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III. LOVE : HUMOROUS 167 |
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[Ye're like to the timmer o' yon rotten wood, Ye're like to the bark o' yon rotten tree,
Ye'll slip frae me like a knotless thread,
An' ye'll crack your credit wi' mair nor me !] |
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No. 1.87. Whare are you gaun, my bonie lass.
Tune : A waukrife minnie Scots Musical Museum, 1790, No. 288. |
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'Whare are you gaun, my bonie lass, Whare are you gaun, my hiney?'
She answer'd me right saucilie,— 'An errand for my minnie.'
1 O, whare live ye, my bonie lass, O, whare live ye, my hiney ?'
' By yon burnside, gin ye maun ken, In a wee house wi' my minnie.'
But I foor up the glen at e'en
To see my bonie lassie ; And lang before the grey morn cam
She was na hauf sae saucie.
O, wearie fa' the waukrife cock, And the foumart lay his crawin !
He wauken'd the auld wife frae her sleep A wee blink or the dawin.
An angry wife I wat she raise, And o'er the bed she brocht her;
And wi' a meikle hazel rung
She made her a weel-pay'd dochter.
' O, fare-thee-weel, my bonie lass !
O, fare-thee-weel, my hiney! Thou art a gay and a bonie lass,
But thou hast a waukrife minnie !' |
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