 | The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") |  |
THE MILLER'S OE.
I gang wi' aits to Sandy's Mill,
Upon my auld grey mare;
As lang's the sack's upon her back,
I dinna ride her bare.
As on I jog my heart it loups
For ane wha's in the ben;
But gin the lassie loes me weel,
I dinna rightly ken.
The water hirsles as it rins,
Aroun' gaes the wheel;
(Ye can hear th' auld mare as she clatters o'er the stanes)
An' hame gaes the meal.
Upon my auld grey mare;
As lang's the sack's upon her back,
I dinna ride her bare.
As on I jog my heart it loups
For ane wha's in the ben;
But gin the lassie loes me weel,
I dinna rightly ken.
The water hirsles as it rins,
Aroun' gaes the wheel;
(Ye can hear th' auld mare as she clatters o'er the stanes)
An' hame gaes the meal.
As lang's I sit on th' auld mare's back,
I'm bauld as a bumbee sma',
But when I meet my dearie sweet,
My bauldness rins awa'.
When doon my sack on the flure I drap,
I steal within the ben;
Gin the miller's oe thinks me her jo,
I dinna rightly ken.
The water hirsles as it rins,
Aroun' gaes the wheel;
(The buckets clatter loud as they a' rise an' fa')
An' hame gaes the meal.
I'm bauld as a bumbee sma',
441
My bauldness rins awa'.
When doon my sack on the flure I drap,
I steal within the ben;
Gin the miller's oe thinks me her jo,
I dinna rightly ken.
The water hirsles as it rins,
Aroun' gaes the wheel;
(The buckets clatter loud as they a' rise an' fa')
An' hame gaes the meal.
To-day I'll gang to mill alane,
An' be na mair afeard;
I've been sae blate, I'll change my gate,
An' bauldly spier my weird.
I've mailin' an' kye, an' gowd forbye,
Na waur than ither men;
An' gin the lassie loes or na,
This day I'll rightly ken.
The water hirsles as it rins,
Aroun' gaes the wheel;
(A chicken-heartit chiel winna win a bonny lass)
An' hame gaes the meal.
An' be na mair afeard;
I've been sae blate, I'll change my gate,
An' bauldly spier my weird.
I've mailin' an' kye, an' gowd forbye,
Na waur than ither men;
An' gin the lassie loes or na,
This day I'll rightly ken.
The water hirsles as it rins,
Aroun' gaes the wheel;
(A chicken-heartit chiel winna win a bonny lass)
An' hame gaes the meal.
Hess Dunning M'Athol.
| The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") | |