The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson ... for the first time fully collected and compared with the original and early editions ... edited ... by the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart ... with portrait, illustrations, &c |
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A SONG. |
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 | The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson |  |
A SONG.
A lad wha ne'er made love to ane,
Had spent lang weary nights his lane,
Had rowth o' gear, and house o's ain,
And beef laid in an a',
Lived at his ease, quite free from strife,
Yet, tired to live a single life,
Resolved at last to get a wife
To sleep wi'm, niest the wa'.
Had spent lang weary nights his lane,
Had rowth o' gear, and house o's ain,
And beef laid in an a',
Lived at his ease, quite free from strife,
Yet, tired to live a single life,
Resolved at last to get a wife
To sleep wi'm, niest the wa'.
Ale-cap wi' lass he ne'er had kis't,
Nor road ere t'her mou' had mis't,
Nae blackfoot he sought to assist
To let him ken the way.
Yet hoo to seek, or whar to gang
To be soon ser'd, and no gang wrang,
Took up his thoughts; he thoughtna lang—
He had nae time to stay.
Nor road ere t'her mou' had mis't,
Nae blackfoot he sought to assist
To let him ken the way.
Yet hoo to seek, or whar to gang
To be soon ser'd, and no gang wrang,
Took up his thoughts; he thoughtna lang—
He had nae time to stay.
Sae down he sits wi' pen and ink,
And twenty names writes in a blink,
The best aye first, as he did think;
Then aff gaes wi' his list
T'the first; then tells his story o'er.—
Says he, I hae got names a score,
And your's is placed them a' before,
Say, will you mak' me blest?
And twenty names writes in a blink,
The best aye first, as he did think;
Then aff gaes wi' his list
T'the first; then tells his story o'er.—
Says he, I hae got names a score,
And your's is placed them a' before,
Say, will you mak' me blest?
Giff ye'll agree to be my nain,
I'll risk wi' you my purse and fame;
Gin ye refuse, out through your name
My pen gaes wi' a dash.
But first I'll hae your “No” or “I,”
Some ane o' the score will not deny;
Will ye accept, or sall I try?
Quo' she—“Ye needna fash!”
I'll risk wi' you my purse and fame;
Gin ye refuse, out through your name
My pen gaes wi' a dash.
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Some ane o' the score will not deny;
Will ye accept, or sall I try?
Quo' she—“Ye needna fash!”
| The poems and literary prose of Alexander Wilson | |