Poems and Songs By Robert Gilfillan. Fourth edition. With memoir of the author, and appendix of his latest pieces |
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JANET AN' ME. |
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 | Poems and Songs |  |
130
JANET AN' ME.
O, wha are sae happy as me an' my Janet?
O, wha are sae happy as Janet an' me?
We're baith turning auld, and our walth is sune tauld,
But contentment ye'll find in our cottage sae wee.
She spins the lang day when I'm out wi' the owsen,
She croons i' the house while I sing at the plough;
And aye her blithe smile welcomes me frae my toil,
As up the lang glen I come wearied I trow!
O, wha are sae happy as Janet an' me?
We're baith turning auld, and our walth is sune tauld,
But contentment ye'll find in our cottage sae wee.
She spins the lang day when I'm out wi' the owsen,
She croons i' the house while I sing at the plough;
And aye her blithe smile welcomes me frae my toil,
As up the lang glen I come wearied I trow!
When I'm at a beuk she is mending the cleadin',
She's darnin' the stockings when I sole the shoon;
Our cracks keep us cheery—we work till we're weary,
An' syne we sup sowans when ance we are done.
She's bakin' a scon while I'm smokin' my cutty,
When I'm i' the stable she's milkin' the kye;
I envy not kings when the gloamin' time brings
The canty fireside to my Janet an' I.
She's darnin' the stockings when I sole the shoon;
Our cracks keep us cheery—we work till we're weary,
An' syne we sup sowans when ance we are done.
131
When I'm i' the stable she's milkin' the kye;
I envy not kings when the gloamin' time brings
The canty fireside to my Janet an' I.
Aboon our auld heads we've a decent clay biggin',
That keeps out the cauld when the simmer's awa';
We've twa wabs o' linen, o' Janet's ain spinnin',
As thick as doug-lugs, an' as white as the snaw!
We've a kebbuck or twa, an' some meal i' the girnel,
Yon sow is our ain that plays grumph at the door;
An' something, I've guessed, 's in yon auld painted kist,
That Janet, fell bodie, 's laid up to the fore!
That keeps out the cauld when the simmer's awa';
We've twa wabs o' linen, o' Janet's ain spinnin',
As thick as doug-lugs, an' as white as the snaw!
We've a kebbuck or twa, an' some meal i' the girnel,
Yon sow is our ain that plays grumph at the door;
An' something, I've guessed, 's in yon auld painted kist,
That Janet, fell bodie, 's laid up to the fore!
Nae doubt, we have haen our ain sorrows and troubles,
Aften times pouches toom, and hearts fu' o' care:
But still, wi' our crosses, our sorrows an' losses,
Contentment, be thankit, has aye been our share!
I've an auld roosty sword, that was left by my father,
Whilk ne'er shall be drawn till our king has a fae;
We hae friends ane or twa, that aft gie us a ca',
To laugh when we're happy, or grieve when we're wae.
Aften times pouches toom, and hearts fu' o' care:
But still, wi' our crosses, our sorrows an' losses,
Contentment, be thankit, has aye been our share!
I've an auld roosty sword, that was left by my father,
Whilk ne'er shall be drawn till our king has a fae;
We hae friends ane or twa, that aft gie us a ca',
To laugh when we're happy, or grieve when we're wae.
132
The laird may hae gowd mair than schoolmen can reckon,
An' flunkies to watch ilka glance o' his e'e;
His lady, aye braw, may sit in her ha',
But are they mair happy than Janet an' me?
A' ye, wha ne'er kent the straught road to be happy,
Wha are na content wi' the lot that ye dree,
Come down to the dwallin' of whilk I've been tellin',
Ye'se learn't, by lookin' at Janet an' me!
An' flunkies to watch ilka glance o' his e'e;
His lady, aye braw, may sit in her ha',
But are they mair happy than Janet an' me?
A' ye, wha ne'er kent the straught road to be happy,
Wha are na content wi' the lot that ye dree,
Come down to the dwallin' of whilk I've been tellin',
Ye'se learn't, by lookin' at Janet an' me!
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