 | Poems on several subjects |  |
SONG VI. The Pease Straw.
The country swain that haunts the plain,
Driving the lightsome plow,
At night, tho' tir'd, with love all fir'd,
He views the lassie's brow.
When morning comes, instead of drums,
The flails flap merrilie,
To raise the maids out of their beds,
To shake the pease strae.
Driving the lightsome plow,
At night, tho' tir'd, with love all fir'd,
He views the lassie's brow.
When morning comes, instead of drums,
The flails flap merrilie,
To raise the maids out of their beds,
To shake the pease strae.
Fair Jeany raise, put on her claise;
Syne tun'd her voice to sing:
She sang sae sweet, with notes complete,
Gar'd a' the echoes ring;
And a' the males lay by their flails,
And dance most merrilie,
And bless the hour that she had pow'r
To shake the pease strae.
Syne tun'd her voice to sing:
She sang sae sweet, with notes complete,
Gar'd a' the echoes ring;
And a' the males lay by their flails,
And dance most merrilie,
And bless the hour that she had pow'r
To shake the pease strae.
The musing swain, disturb'd in brain,
Fast to her arms he flew,
And strave a while; then, wi' a smile,
Sweet Jeany, red in hue,
She said right aft, I think you're daft,
That tempts a lassy sae;
Ye'll do me wrang; pray let me gang
And shake the pease strae,
Fast to her arms he flew,
And strave a while; then, wi' a smile,
Sweet Jeany, red in hue,
She said right aft, I think you're daft,
That tempts a lassy sae;
Ye'll do me wrang; pray let me gang
And shake the pease strae,
My heart, said he, sair wounded be,
For thee, my Jeany fair;
Without a jest, I get nae rest;
By bed it proves a snare.
Thy image fine presents me syne,
And takes a' rest me frae;
And whiles I dream, in your esteem,
You reckon me your fae:
For thee, my Jeany fair;
Without a jest, I get nae rest;
By bed it proves a snare.
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And takes a' rest me frae;
And whiles I dream, in your esteem,
You reckon me your fae:
Which is a sign you will be mine;
Dear Jeany, say nae na:
But soon comply, or else I dy,
Sae tell me, but a flaw,
If you can love, for none above
Thee I can fancy sae;
I would be blest, if I but wist
That you would shake my strae.
Dear Jeany, say nae na:
But soon comply, or else I dy,
Sae tell me, but a flaw,
If you can love, for none above
Thee I can fancy sae;
I would be blest, if I but wist
That you would shake my strae.
Then Jeany smil'd; said, You're beguil'd,
I canna' fancy thee:
My minny bauld, she would me scauld;
Sae dinna' die for me.
But yet, I own, I am near grown
A woman: since its sae,
I'll marry thee, syne you'll get me
To shake your pease strae.
I canna' fancy thee:
My minny bauld, she would me scauld;
Sae dinna' die for me.
But yet, I own, I am near grown
A woman: since its sae,
I'll marry thee, syne you'll get me
To shake your pease strae.
| Poems on several subjects | |