Willie Winkie and Other Songs and Poems By William Miller: Edited, with an Introduction by Robert Ford |
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Ye Cowe a'.
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 | Willie Winkie and Other Songs and Poems |  |
Ye Cowe a'.
I wiled my lass wi' loving words to Kelvin's leafy shade,
And a' that fondest heart can feel, or tongue can tell I said;
But nae reply my lassie gi'ed—I blam'd the waterfa',
Its deavin' soun' my voice did drown—O this cowes a'!
O this cowes a', quo' I, O this cowes a'!
I wonder how the birds can woo—O this cowes a'!
And a' that fondest heart can feel, or tongue can tell I said;
But nae reply my lassie gi'ed—I blam'd the waterfa',
Its deavin' soun' my voice did drown—O this cowes a'!
O this cowes a', quo' I, O this cowes a'!
I wonder how the birds can woo—O this cowes a'!
43
I wiled my lass wi' loving words to Kelvin's solemn grove,
Where silence, in her dewy bowers, hush'd a' sounds but o' love;
Still frae my earnest looks and vows, she turned her head awa',
Nae cheering word the silence heard—O this cowes a'!
O this cowes a', quo' I, O this cowes a'!
To woo I'll try anither way, for this cowes a'!
Where silence, in her dewy bowers, hush'd a' sounds but o' love;
Still frae my earnest looks and vows, she turned her head awa',
Nae cheering word the silence heard—O this cowes a'!
O this cowes a', quo' I, O this cowes a'!
To woo I'll try anither way, for this cowes a'!
I wiled my lass wi' loving words to where the moonlight fell,
Upon a bank of blooming flowers, beside the pear-tree well;
Say, modest moon, did I do wrang to clasp her waist sae sma'
An' steal ae kiss o' honey'd bliss?—O ye cowe a'!
O ye cowe a', quo' she, O ye cowe a'!
Ye micht ha'e speir'd a body's leave—but ye cowe a'!
Upon a bank of blooming flowers, beside the pear-tree well;
Say, modest moon, did I do wrang to clasp her waist sae sma'
An' steal ae kiss o' honey'd bliss?—O ye cowe a'!
O ye cowe a', quo' she, O ye cowe a'!
Ye micht ha'e speir'd a body's leave—but ye cowe a'!
I'll to the clerk, quo' I, sweet lass, on Sunday we'll be cried,
And frae your father's house, next day, ye'll gang a dear lo'ed bride—
Quo' she, I'd need anither week to mak' a gown mair braw—
The gown ye ha'e we'll mak' it do—O ye cowe a'!
O ye cowe a', quo' she, O ye cowe a',
But wilfu' folk maun ha'e their way—O ye ca' a'!
And frae your father's house, next day, ye'll gang a dear lo'ed bride—
Quo' she, I'd need anither week to mak' a gown mair braw—
The gown ye ha'e we'll mak' it do—O ye cowe a'!
O ye cowe a', quo' she, O ye cowe a',
But wilfu' folk maun ha'e their way—O ye ca' a'!
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