A WEARY BODIE'S BLYTHE WHAN THE SUN GANGS DOWN.
1
A weary bodie's blythe whan the sun gangs down,
A weary bodie's blythe whan the sun gangs down:
To smile wi' his wife, and to daute wi' his weans,
Wha wadna be blythe whan the sun gangs down?
2
The simmer sun's lang, an' we've a' toiled sair,
Frae sun-rise to sun-set's a dreigh tack o' care;
But at hame for to daute 'mang our wee bits o' weans,
We think on our toils an' our cares nae mair.
3
The Saturday sun gangs ay sweetest down,
My bonnie boys leave their wark i' the town;
My heart loups light at my ain ingle side,
Whan my kin' blythe bairn-time is a' sitting roun'.
4
The sabbath morning comes, an' warm lowes the sun,
Ilk heart's full o' joy a' the parishen roun';
Round the hip o' the hill comes the sweet psalm tune,
An' the auld fowk a' to the preaching are bowne.
5
The hearts o' the younkers loup lightsome, to see
The gladness which dwalls in their auld grannie's ee;
An' they gather i' the sun,' side the green haw-tree,
Nae new-flown birds are sae mirthsome an' hie.
6
Tho' my sonsie dame's cheeks nae to auld age are prief,
Tho' the roses which blumed there are smit i' the leaf;
Tho' the young blinks o' luve hae a' died in her ee,
She is bonnier an' dearer than ever to me!
7
I mind when I thought the sun didnae shine
On a form half so fair, or a face so divine;
She was wooed in the parlour, and sought in the ha',
But I won her away frae the wit o' them a'.
8
Ance Poortith came in 'yont our hallan to keek,
But my Jeanie was nursing an' singing sae sweet,
That she laid down her powks at anither door-cheek,
An steppit blythely ben her auld shanks for to beek.
9
My hame is the mailen weel stockit an' fu,
My bairns are the flocks an' the herds which I loo;—
My Jeanie is the gold an' delight o' my ee,
She's worth a hale lairdship o' mailens to me!
10
O wha wad fade awa like a flower i' the dew,
An' nae leave a sprout for kind heaven to pu'?
Wha wad rot 'mang the mools, like the stump o' the tree,
Wi' nae shoots the pride o' the forest to be?
