The Poetry of Robert Burns Edited by William Ernest Henley and Thomas F. Henderson |
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MY NANIE, O |
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 | The Poetry of Robert Burns |  |
MY NANIE, O
I
Behind yon hills where Lugar flows'Mang moors an' mosses many, O,
The wintry sun the day has clos'd,
And I'll awa to Nanie, O.
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II
The westlin wind blaws loud an' shill,The night's baith mirk and rainy, O;
But I'll get my plaid, an' out I'll steal,
An' owre the hill to Nanie, O.
III
My Nanie's charming, sweet, an' young;Nae artfu' wiles to win ye, O:
May ill befa' the flattering tongue
That wad beguile my Nanie, O!
IV
Her face is fair, her heart is true;As spotless as she's bonie, O,
The op'ning gowan, wat wi' dew,
Nae purer is than Nanie, O.
V
A country lad is my degree,An' few there be that ken me, O;
But what care I how few they be?
I'm welcome ay to Nanie, O.
VI
My riches a's my penny-fee,An' I maun guide it cannie, O;
But warl's gear ne'er troubles me,
My thoughts are a'—my Nanie, O.
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VII
Our auld guidman delights to viewHis sheep an' kye thrive bonie, O;
But I'm as blythe that hauds his pleugh,
An' has nae care but Nanie, O.
VIII
Come weel, come woe, I care na by;I'll tak what Heav'n will send me, O:
Nae ither care in life have I,
But live, an' love my Nanie, O.
| The Poetry of Robert Burns | |