Complete Songs Of Robert Burns - online book

Share page


	III. LOVE : HUMOROUS 163



	My love, she's but a lassie yet, My love, she's but a lassie yet; We'll let her stand a year or twa, She'll no be hauf sae saucy yet; I rue the day I sought her, O ! I rue the day I sought her, O 1 Wha gets her needna say he's woo'd, But he may say he has bought her, O ! Come draw a drap o' the best o't yet, Come draw a drap o' the best o't yet; Gae seek for pleasure whar ye will, But here I never miss'd it yet. [We're a' dry wi' drinkin o't, We're a' dry wi' drinkin o't; The minister kiss'd the fiddler's wife— He couldna preach for thinkin o't.]
	No. 183. I murder hate by field or flood. (Tune unknown.) I murder hate by field or flood, Tho' glory's name may screen us; In wars at hame I'll spend my blood— Life-giving wars of Venus. The deities that I adore Are social Peace and Plenty ; I'm better pleas'd to make one more, Than be the death of twenty. I would not die like Socrates, For all the fuss of Plato; Nor would I with Leonidas, Nor yet would I with Cato : The zealots of the Church and State Shall ne'er my mortal foes be; But let me have bold Zimri's fate Within the arms of Cozbi.