And by our banners march'd Muirhead, And Buittle was na slack; Whase haly priesthood nane could stain, For wha could dye the black? And there was grave squire Cardoness, Sae in the tower o' Cardoness And there led I the Bushby clan, And my son Maitland, wise as brave, The Douglas and the Heron's name, But Douglasses o' weight had we, For building cot-houses sae fam'd, And then Redcastle drew his sword, And last cam creepin Collieston, THE SPINNING O'T Inscription for an altar of Independence, At Kerroughtree, the Seat of Mr Heron,1 THOU of an independent mind, With soul resolv'd, with soul resign'd; Virtue alone who dost revere, Thy own reproach alone dost fear Approach this shrine, and worship here. The Cardin o't, the Spinnin o't.2 I COFT a stane o' haslock woo,a For Johnie is my only jo,b I loe him best of onie yet. Chorus-The cardin o't, the spinnin o't, The warpin o't, the winnin o't; For tho' his locks be lyartd grey, * fine wool from the sheep's throat. 1 Probably of summer 1794, as Mr Scott Douglas argues. b love. • bald. 2 This has an appearance of antiquity. The Cooper o' Cuddy.1 Tune-"Bab at the bowster." Chorus-WE'LL hide the Cooper behint the door, We'll hide the Cooper behint the door, The Cooper o' Cuddy came here awa, He sought them out, he sought them in, They cooper'd at e'en, they cooper'd at morn, And swears that there they sall stan' O. The Lass that made the Bed to Me.2 WHEN Januar' wind was blawing cauld, The mirksome night did me enfauld, a basket. b hoops. 1 Scottish humour of the sort common in the Fabliaux. 2 There is a traditional version. The adventure is attributed to Charles II. c stupid. before Worcester fight, but in that case the conclusion, of course, is impossible. I bow'd fu' low unto this maid, An' bade her make a bed to me; Wi' twa white hands she spread it doun; She put the cup to her rosy lips, And drank "Young man, now sleep ye soun"." Chorus-The bonie lass made the bed to me, The braw lass made the bed to me, The lass that made the bed to me. She snatch'd the candle in her hand, 營業 I put my arms about her neck. The bonie lass, &c. "Haud aff your hands, young man!" she said, Gif ye hae ony luve for me, O wrang na my virginitie." Her hair was like the links o' gowd, Her bosom was the driven snaw, And aye she wist na what to say: Upon the morrow when we raise, I thank'd her for her courtesie; For ye aye shall make the bed to me. She took her mither's holland sheets, Blythe and merry may she be, The lass that made the bed to me. Chorus-The bonie lass made the bed to me, The braw lass made the bed to me; I'll ne'er forget till the day I die, The lass that made the bed to me. |