| |
| IN simmer, when the hay was mawn, | |
| And corn wav’d green in ilka field, | |
| While claver blooms white o’er the lea | |
| And roses blaw in ilka beild! | |
| Blythe Bessie in the milking shiel, | 5 |
| Says—“I’ll be wed, come o’t what will”: | |
| Out spake a dame in wrinkled eild; | |
| “O’ gude advisement comes nae ill. | |
| |
| “It’s ye hae wooers mony ane, | |
| And lassie, ye’re but young ye ken; | 10 |
| Then wait a wee, and cannie wale | |
| A routhie butt, a routhie ben; | |
| There’s Johnie o’ the Buskie-glen, | |
| Fu’ is his barn, fu’ is his byre; | |
| Take this frae me, my bonie hen, | 15 |
| It’s plenty beets the luver’s fire.” | |
| |
| “For Johnie o’ the Buskie-glen, | |
| I dinna care a single flie; | |
| He lo’es sae weel his craps and kye, | |
| He has nae love to spare for me; | 20 |
| But blythe’s the blink o’ Robie’s e’e, | |
| And weel I wat he lo’es me dear: | |
| Ae blink o’ him I wad na gie | |
| For Buskie-glen and a’ his gear.” | |
| |
| “O thoughtless lassie, life’s a faught; | 25 |
| The canniest gate, the strife is sair; | |
| But aye fu’-han’t is fechtin’ best, | |
| A hungry care’s an unco care: | |
| But some will spend and some will spare, | |
| An’ wilfu’ folk maun hae their will; | 30 |
| Syne as ye brew, my maiden fair, | |
| Keep mind that ye maun drink the yill.” | |
| |
| “O gear will buy me rigs o’ land, | |
| And gear will buy me sheep and kye; | |
| But the tender heart o’ leesome love, | 35 |
| The gowd and siller canna buy; | |
| We may be poor—Robie and I— | |
| Light is the burden love lays on; | |
| Content and love brings peace and joy— | |
| What mair hae Queens upon a throne?” | 40 |
| |
