“Thou hast sworn by thy God, my Jeanie”

Allan Cunningham (1784–1842)

THOU hast sworn by thy God, my Jeanie,

By that pretty white hand o’ thine,

And by a’ the lowing stars in heaven,

That thou wad aye be mine!

And I hae sworn by my God, my Jeanie,

And by that kind heart o’ thine,

By a’ the stars sown thick owre heaven,

That thou shalt aye be mine!

Then foul fa’ the hands that wad loose sic bands,

And the heart that wad part sic luve!

But there ’s nae hand can loose the band,

But the finger o’ God abuve.

Though the wee, wee cot maun be my bield,

An’ my claithing ne’er sae mean.

I wad lap me up rich i’ the faulds o’ luve,—

Heaven’s armfu’ o’ my Jean!

Her white arm wad be a pillow to me,

Fu’ safter than the down;

An’ Luve wad winnow owre us his kind, kind wings

An’ sweetly I ’d sleep, an’ soun’.

Come here to me, thou lass o’ my luve!

Come here and kneel wi’ me!

The morn is fu’ o’ the presence o’ God,

An’ I canna pray without thee.

The morn-wind is sweet ’mang the beds o’ new flowers,

The wee birds sing kindlie an’ hie;

Our gudeman leans owre his kail-yard dike,

And a blythe auld bodie is he.

The Book maun be ta’en whan the carle comes hame,

Wi’ the holie psalmodie;

And thou maun speak o’ me to thy God,

And I will speak o’ thee.