The Poetical Works of Hector MacNeill ... A New Edition, Corrected and Enlarged. In Two Volumes |
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 | II. |
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I LOO'D NE'ER A LADDIE BUT ANE. |
 | The Poetical Works of Hector MacNeill |  |
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I LOO'D NE'ER A LADDIE BUT ANE.
I loo'd ne'er a laddie but ane,
He loo'd ne'er a lassie but me;
He's willing to mak me his ain,
And his ain I am willing to be.
He has coft me a rocklay o'blue,
And a pair o'mittens o'green;
The price was a kiss o'my mou',
And I paid him the debt yestreen.
He loo'd ne'er a lassie but me;
He's willing to mak me his ain,
And his ain I am willing to be.
He has coft me a rocklay o'blue,
And a pair o'mittens o'green;
The price was a kiss o'my mou',
And I paid him the debt yestreen.
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Let ithers brag weel o'their gear,
Their land, and their lordly degree;
I carena for ought but my dear,
For he's ilka thing lordlie to me;
His words are sae sugared, sae sweet!
His sense drives ilk fear far awa!
I listen—poor fool! and I greet,
Yet O! sweet are the tears as they fa'!
Their land, and their lordly degree;
I carena for ought but my dear,
For he's ilka thing lordlie to me;
His words are sae sugared, sae sweet!
His sense drives ilk fear far awa!
I listen—poor fool! and I greet,
Yet O! sweet are the tears as they fa'!
‘Dear lassie,’ he cries wi' a jeer,
‘Ne'er heed what the auld anes will say;
Though we've little to brag o'—ne'er fear,
What's gowd to a heart that is wae?
Our laird has baith honours and wealth,
Yet see how he's dwining wi' care;
Now we, tho' we've naithing but health,
Are canty and leil evermair.
‘Ne'er heed what the auld anes will say;
Though we've little to brag o'—ne'er fear,
What's gowd to a heart that is wae?
Our laird has baith honours and wealth,
Yet see how he's dwining wi' care;
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Are canty and leil evermair.
‘O Marion! the heart that is true
Has something mair costly than gear,
Ilk e'en it has naithing to rue;
Ilk morn it has naithing to fear.
Ye warldlings! gae, hoard up your store,
And tremble for fear ought ye tyne:
Guard your treasures wi' lock, bar, and door,
While here in my arms I lock mine!’
Has something mair costly than gear,
Ilk e'en it has naithing to rue;
Ilk morn it has naithing to fear.
Ye warldlings! gae, hoard up your store,
And tremble for fear ought ye tyne:
Guard your treasures wi' lock, bar, and door,
While here in my arms I lock mine!’
He ends wi' a kiss and a smile—
Waes me! can I tak it amiss?
My laddie's unpractised in guile,
He's free ay to daut and to kiss!
Ye lassies, wha loo to torment
Your wooers wi' fause scorn and strife,
Play your pranks—I hae gi'en my consent,
And this night I am Jamie's for life.
Waes me! can I tak it amiss?
My laddie's unpractised in guile,
He's free ay to daut and to kiss!
100
Your wooers wi' fause scorn and strife,
Play your pranks—I hae gi'en my consent,
And this night I am Jamie's for life.
| The Poetical Works of Hector MacNeill | |