The Poetical Works of Hector MacNeill ... A New Edition, Corrected and Enlarged. In Two Volumes |
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COME UNDER MY PLAIDY;
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 | The Poetical Works of Hector MacNeill |  |
127
COME UNDER MY PLAIDY;
OR, MODERN MARRIAGE DELINEATED.
‘Come under my plaidy, the night's gau'n to fa';
Come in frae the cauld blast, the drift and the snaw;
Come under my plaidy, and sit down beside me;
There's room in't, dear lassie! believe me, for twa.
Come under my plaidy, and sit down beside me,
I'll hap ye frae every cauld blast that can blaw:
O come under my plaidy, and sit down beside me,
There's room in't, dear lassie! believe me, for twa.’
Come in frae the cauld blast, the drift and the snaw;
Come under my plaidy, and sit down beside me;
There's room in't, dear lassie! believe me, for twa.
Come under my plaidy, and sit down beside me,
I'll hap ye frae every cauld blast that can blaw:
O come under my plaidy, and sit down beside me,
There's room in't, dear lassie! believe me, for twa.’
128
‘Gae 'wa wi' your plaidy! auld Donald, gae 'wa,
I fear na the cauld blast, the drift nor the snaw;
Gae 'wa wi' your plaidy! I'll no sit beside ye;
Ye may be my gutcher:—auld Donald, gae wa'.
I'm gau'n to meet Johnie, he's young and he's bonie;
He's been at Meg's bridal, sae trig and sae braw!
O nane dances sae lightly! sae gracefu'! sae tightly!
His cheek's like the new rose, his brow's like the snaw!’
I fear na the cauld blast, the drift nor the snaw;
Gae 'wa wi' your plaidy! I'll no sit beside ye;
Ye may be my gutcher:—auld Donald, gae wa'.
I'm gau'n to meet Johnie, he's young and he's bonie;
He's been at Meg's bridal, sae trig and sae braw!
O nane dances sae lightly! sae gracefu'! sae tightly!
His cheek's like the new rose, his brow's like the snaw!’
‘Dear Marion, let that flee stick fast to the wa',
Your Jock's but a gowk, and has naithing ava;
The hale o' his pack he has now on his back,
He's thretty, and I am but threescore and twa.
Be frank now and kindly; I'll busk you aye finely;
To kirk or to market they'll few gang sae braw;
A bein house to bide in, a chaise for to ride in,
And flunkies to tend ye as aft as ye ca.’
Your Jock's but a gowk, and has naithing ava;
The hale o' his pack he has now on his back,
He's thretty, and I am but threescore and twa.
Be frank now and kindly; I'll busk you aye finely;
To kirk or to market they'll few gang sae braw;
A bein house to bide in, a chaise for to ride in,
And flunkies to tend ye as aft as ye ca.’
129
‘My father's ay tauld me, my mither and a',
Ye'd make a gude husband, and keep me ay braw;
It's true I loo Johnie, he's gude and he's bonie,
But, waes me! ye ken he has naething ava!
I hae little tocher; you've made a gude offer;
I'm now mair than twenty; my time is but sma'!
Sae gi' me your plaidy, I'll creep in beside ye,
I thought ye'd been aulder than threescore and twa.’
Ye'd make a gude husband, and keep me ay braw;
It's true I loo Johnie, he's gude and he's bonie,
But, waes me! ye ken he has naething ava!
I hae little tocher; you've made a gude offer;
I'm now mair than twenty; my time is but sma'!
Sae gi' me your plaidy, I'll creep in beside ye,
I thought ye'd been aulder than threescore and twa.’
She crap in ayont him, aside the stane wa',
Whar Johnie was list'ning, and heard her tell a';
The day was appointed!—his proud heart it dunted,
And strack 'gainst his side as if bursting in twa.
He wandered hame weary, the night it was dreary!
And thowless, he tint his gate deep 'mang the snaw;
The howlet was screamin', while Johnie cried ‘Women
Wa'd marry Auld Nick, if he'd keep them ay braw.’
Whar Johnie was list'ning, and heard her tell a';
The day was appointed!—his proud heart it dunted,
And strack 'gainst his side as if bursting in twa.
He wandered hame weary, the night it was dreary!
And thowless, he tint his gate deep 'mang the snaw;
The howlet was screamin', while Johnie cried ‘Women
Wa'd marry Auld Nick, if he'd keep them ay braw.’
130
O the deel's in the lasses! they gang now sae braw,
They'll lie down wi' auld men o' fourscore and twa;
The hale o'their marriage is gowd and a carriage;
Plain luve is the cauldest blast now that can blaw!
They'll lie down wi' auld men o' fourscore and twa;
The hale o'their marriage is gowd and a carriage;
Plain luve is the cauldest blast now that can blaw!
| The Poetical Works of Hector MacNeill | |