Songs Chiefly in the Rural Language of Scotland. By Allan Cunningham |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
THE WANTON WIFE.
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| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
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| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
| XLIII. |
| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
| XLVIII. |
 | Songs |  |
THE WANTON WIFE.
SONG III.
1
Nith trembling to the reaper's sang,Warm glitter'd in the morning sun,
And murmur'd up the lonesome glen,
Where wife of wanton wit did wonne.
Her tongue wagg'd with unholy wit,
Unstint by kirk or gospel ban';
7
Green growing o'er her old goodman.
2
Her old goodman drapp'd in at e'en,With harvest hook, sore toil'd was he;
Small was his cog, and cauld his kale,
But anger never rais'd his e'e.
He bless'd the little, and was blythe,
While dame with clam'rous tongue began;
“O sorrow clap yere old bald pow,
And dance w'ye to the mools goodman.”
3
He hang his bonnet on the pin,And down he lay in dole and pine;
While she sat singing in the nook,
And touting at the rosie wine.
The lark, mid morning's silver gray,
That wont to cheer him work-ward gaun,
Next morning miss'd amang the dew,
The blythe and dainty old goodman.
4
The third morn dew on flow'r and tree,Gan glorious in the sun to glow,
When sang the wanton wife to mark,
His feet gaun foremost o'er the knowe.
The first flight of the winter rime,
That on the kirkyard sward had faun,
The wanton wife skift off the grave,
A kirking with her new goodman.
8
5
A dainty dame I wot she was,High brent, and burnish'd was her brow,
'Mang lint locks curling, and her lips
Twin daisies dawn'd through honey dew.
And light and lovesome in the dance,
When hall was het, or kirn was wan;
Her hands two drifts of virgin snow,
In cold December's bosom faun.
6
But, long e're winter's winds blew by,She skirled in her lonesome howe;
Her new goodman with hazle rung,
Began to kame her wanton powe.
Her hearth was sloken'd out with care,
Toom grew her chest, and cauld her pan;
And dreech and dowie waxed the night,
Ere beltane with her new goodman.
7
She dreary sits 'tween naked walls,Her cheeks ne'er dimpling into mirth,
Half happed haurling out of doors,
And hunger haunted at her hearth.
And see the tears thick in her locks,
Warm happing down her haffets wan;—
But, think her bitterness of soul,
In sorrow for her old goodman.
| Songs | |