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I. LOVE I PERSONAL 69 |
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The sheep-herd steeks his faulding slap, And o'er the moorlands whistles shill,
Wi' wild, unequal, wand'ring step, I meet him on the dewy hill.
And when the lark, 'tween light and dark,
Blythe waukens by the daisy's side, And mounts and sings on flittering wings,
A woe-worn ghaist I hameward glide.
Come Winter, with thine angry howl,
And raging, bend the naked tree ; Thy gloom will soothe my cheerless soul,
When Nature all is sad like me !
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No. 68. Tho women s minds like winter winds.
Tune : For o' that.
Tho' women's minds like winter winds
May shift, and turn, an' a' that, The noblest breast adores them maist—
A consequence, I draw that.
Chorus. For o' that, an o' that,
And twice as mickWs o' that, The bonie lass that I loe best, She'll be my ain for o' that I
Great love I bear to a1 the fair,
Their humble slave, an' a' that; But lordly will, I hold it still
A mortal sin to thraw that.
But there is ane aboon the lave
Has wit, and sense, an' a' that; A bonie lass, I like her best,
And wha a crime dare ca' that?
In raplure sweet this hour we meet,
Wi' mutual love an' a' that, But for how lang the flie may stang,
Let inclination law that.
Their tricks an' craft hae put me daft,
They've taen me in an' a' that, But clear your decks, and here's—' The sex1!
I like the jads for a' that! |
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