THE WEE PICKLE TOW.[32]

A lively young la.s.s had a wee pickle tow, And she thought to try the spinnin' o't; She sat by the fire, and her rock took alow, And that was an ill beginnin' o't.

Loud and shrill was the cry that she utter'd, I ween; The sudden mischanter brought tears to her een; Her face it was fair, but her temper was keen; O dole for the ill beginnin' o't!

She stamp'd on the floor, and her twa hands she wrung, Her bonny sweet mou' she crookit, O!

And fell was the outbreak o' words frae her tongue; Like ane sair demented she lookit, O!

"Foul fa' the inventor o' rock and o' reel!

I hope, gude forgi'e me! he 's now wi' the d--l, He brought us mair trouble than help, wot I weel; O dole for the ill beginnin' o't!

"And now, when they 're spinnin' and kempin' awa', They 'll talk o' my rock and the burnin' o't, While Tibbie, and Mysie, and Maggie, and a', Into some silly joke will be turnin' it: They 'll say I was doited, they 'll say I was fu'; They 'll say I was dowie, and Robin untrue; They 'll say in the fire some luve-powther I threw, And that made the ill beginning o't.

"O curst be the day, and unchancy the hour, When I sat me adown to the spinnin' o't!

Then some evil spirit or warlock had power, And made sic an ill beginnin' o't.

May s.p.u.n.kie my feet to the boggie betray, The lunzie folk steal my new kirtle away, And Robin forsake me for douce Effie Gray, The next time I try the spinnin' o't."

[32] "The Wee Pickle Tow" is an old air, to which the words of this song were written.

THE GOWAN GLITTERS ON THE SWARD.

The gowan glitters on the sward, The lav'rock's in the sky, And collie on my plaid keeps ward, And time is pa.s.sing by.

Oh, no! sad and slow, And lengthen'd on the ground; The shadow of our trysting bush It wears so slowly round.

My sheep-bells tinkle frae the west, My lambs are bleating near; But still the sound that I lo'e best, Alack! I canna hear.

Oh, no! sad and slow, The shadow lingers still; And like a lanely ghaist I stand, And croon upon the hill.

I hear below the water roar, The mill wi' clacking din, And lucky scolding frae the door, To ca' the bairnies in.

Oh, no! sad and slow, These are nae sounds for me; The shadow of our trysting bush It creeps sae drearily!

I coft yestreen, frae chapman Tam, A snood o' bonnie blue, And promised, when our trysting cam', To tie it round her brow.

Oh, no! sad and slow, The mark it winna pa.s.s; The shadow o' that dreary bush Is tether'd on the gra.s.s.

O now I see her on the way!

She 's past the witch's knowe; She 's climbing up the brownie's brae-- My heart is in a lowe.

Oh, no! 'tis not so, 'Tis glamrie I hae seen; The shadow o' that hawthorn bush Will move nae mair till e'en.

My book o' grace I 'll try to read, Though conn'd wi' little skill; When collie barks I 'll raise my head, And find her on the hill.

Oh, no! sad and slow, The time will ne'er be gane; The shadow o' our trysting bush Is fix'd like ony stane.

SAW YE JOHNNIE COMIN'?

"Saw ye Johnnie comin'?" quo' she; "Saw ye Johnnie comin'?

Wi' his blue bonnet on his head, And his doggie rinnin'.

Yestreen, about the gloamin' time, I chanced to see him comin', Whistling merrily the tune That I am a' day hummin'," quo' she; "I am a' day hummin'.

"Fee him, faither, fee him," quo' she; "Fee him, faither, fee him; A' the wark about the house Gaes wi' me when I see him: A' the wark about the house I gang sae lightly through it; And though ye pay some merks o' gear, Hoot! ye winna rue it," quo' she; "No; ye winna rue it."

"What wad I do wi' him, hizzy?

What wad I do wi' him?

He 's ne'er a sark upon his back, And I hae nane to gi'e him."

"I hae twa sarks into my kist, And ane o' them I 'll gi'e him; And for a merk o' mair fee, Oh, dinna stand wi' him," quo' she; "Dinna stand wi' him.

"Weel do I lo'e him," quo' she; "Weel do I lo'e him; The brawest lads about the place Are a' but hav'rels to him.

Oh, fee him, father; lang, I trow, We 've dull and dowie been: He 'll haud the plough, thrash i' the barn, And crack wi' me at e'en," quo' she; "Crack wi' me at e'en."

IT FELL ON A MORNING.[33]

It fell on a morning when we were thrang-- Our kirn was gaun, our cheese was making, And bannocks on the girdle baking-- That ane at the door chapp'd loud and lang; But the auld gudewife, and her Mays sae tight, Of this stirring and din took sma' notice, I ween; For a chap at the door in braid daylight Is no like a chap when heard at e'en.

Then the clocksie auld laird of the warlock glen, Wha stood without, half cow'd, half cheerie.

And yearn'd for a sight of his winsome dearie, Raised up the latch and came crousely ben.

His coat was new, and his owrelay was white, And his hose and his mittens were coozy and bein; But a wooer that comes in braid daylight Is no like a wooer that comes at e'en.

He greeted the carlin' and la.s.ses sae braw, And his bare lyart pow he smoothly straikit, And looked about, like a body half glaikit, On bonny sweet Nanny, the youngest of a': "Ha, ha!" quo' the carlin', "and look ye that way?

Hoot! let nae sic fancies bewilder ye clean-- An elderlin' man, i' the noon o' the day, Should be wiser than youngsters that come at e'en."

"Na, na," quo' the pawky auld wife; "I trow You 'll fash na your head wi' a youthfu' gilly, As wild and as skeigh as a muirland filly; Black Madge is far better and fitter for you."

He hem'd and he haw'd, and he screw'd in his mouth, And he squeezed his blue bonnet his twa hands between; For wooers that come when the sun 's in the south Are mair awkward than wooers that come at e'en.

"Black Madge she is prudent." "What 's that to me?"

"She is eident and sober, has sense in her noddle-- Is douce and respeckit." "I carena a boddle; I 'll baulk na my luve, and my fancy 's free."

Madge toss'd back her head wi' a saucy slight, And Nanny run laughing out to the green; For wooers that come when the sun shines bright Are no like the wooers that come at e'en.

Awa' flung the laird, and loud mutter'd he, "All the daughters of Eve, between Orkney and Tweed, O: Black and fair, young and old, dame, damsel, and widow, May gang, wi' their pride, to the wuddy for me."

But the auld gudewife, and her Mays sae tight, For a' his loud banning cared little, I ween; For a wooer that comes in braid daylight Is no like a wooer that comes at e'en.

[33] This song was contributed by Miss Baillie to "The Harp of Caledonia."

WOO'D, AND MARRIED, AND A'.[34]

The bride she is winsome and bonnie, Her hair it is snooded sae sleek; And faithful and kind is her Johnnie, Yet fast fa' the tears on her cheek.