The Lass o' Ecclefechan

Ne'er break your heart for ae rebute,
But think upon it still, jo;
Then gin the lassie winna do't,
Ye'll fin' anither will, jo.

The Lass of Ecclefechan

TUNE-"Jack o' Latin."

AT ye me, O gat ye me,

"GAT

O gat ye me wi' naething?

Rock and reel, and spinnin' wheel,
A mickle quarter basin.

Bye attour, my gutcher has

A heich house and a laigh ane,

A' forbye, my bonnie sel,

The toss of Ecclefechan."

"O haud your tongue now, Lucky Laing,
O haud your tongue and jauner;

I held the gate till you I met,
Syne I began to wander :

I tint my whistle and my sang,

I tint my peace and pleasure;

But your green graff, now, Lucky Laing,
Wad airt me to my treasure."

O Lassie, art thou Sleepin' yet?

TUNE-"Let me in this ae night."

LASSIE, art thou sleepin' yet?

Or art thou wakin', I would wit? For love has bound me hand and fit, And I would fain be in, jo.

CHORUS.

O let me in this ae night,
This ae, ae, ae night;
For pity's sake this ae night,
O rise and let me in, jo.

Thou hear'st the winter wind and weet,
Nae star blinks thro' the driving sleet;
Tak pity on my weary feet,

And shield me frae the rain, jo.
O let me in, etc.

The bitter blast that round me blaws,
Unheeded howls, unheeded fa's;
The cauldness o' thy heart's the cause
Of a' my grief and pain, jo.
O let me in, etc.

HER ANSWER.

O tell na me o' wind and rain,
Upbraid na me wi' cauld disdain!
Gae back the gate ye cam again,
I winna let you in, jo.

CHORUS.

I tell you now this ae night,
This ae, ae, ae night;
And ance for a' this ae night,
I winna let you in, jo.

The snellest blast, at mirkest hours,
That round the pathless wand'rer pours,
Is nocht to what poor she endures
That's trusted faithless man, jo.
I tell you now, etc.

I'll aye ca' in by yon Toun

The sweetest flower that deck'd the mead,

Now trodden like the vilest weed;

Let simple maid the lesson read,
The weird may be her ain, jo.
I tell you now, etc.

The bird that charm'd his summer-day
Is now the cruel fowler's prey;
Let witless, trusting woman say
How aft her fate's the same, jo.
I tell you now, etc.

I'll aye ca' in by yon Toun

'HERE'S nane sall ken, there's nane sall

TH

guess,

What brings me back the gate again,

But she, my fairest faithfu' lass,

And stownlins we sall meet again.

CHORUS.

I'll aye ca' in by yon toun,

And by yon garden green again;
I'll aye ca' in by yon toun,

And see my bonnie Jean again.

She'll wander by the aiken tree
When trystin'-time draws near again;
And when her lovely form I see,
O haith! she's doubly dear again!
I'll aye ca' in, etc.

O, wat ye wha's in yon Toun ?

TUNE-" The bonnie Lass in yon town."

WOW haply down yon gay green shaw,

Now

She wanders by yon spreading tree: How blest, ye flow'rs that round her blaw, Ye catch the glances o' her e'e!

CHORUS.

O, wat ye wha's in yon toun
Ye see the e'enin' sun upon?
The dearest maid's in yon toun,
That e'enin' sun is shining on.

How blest, ye birds that round her sing,
And welcome in the blooming year,
And doubly welcome be the spring,
The season to my Jeanie dear!
O, wat ye, etc.

The sun blinks blythe on yon town,
And on yon bonnie braes of Ayr;

But my delight in yon town,

And dearest bliss, is Jeanie fair.
O, wat ye, etc.

Without my love, not a' the charms
O' Paradise could yield me joy;
But gie me Jeanie in my arms,
And welcome Lapland's dreary sky!
O, wat ye, etc.

My cave wad be a lover's bower,
Tho' raging winter rent the air;

And she a lovely little flower,

That I wad tent and shelter there.
O, wat ye, etc.

The Cardin' o't

O sweet is she in yon toun,

Yon sinkin' sun's gane doun upon;
A fairer than's in yon toun,

His setting beam ne'er shone upon.
O, wat ye, etc.

If angry fate is sworn my foe,

And suffering I am doom'd to bear;
I careless quit all else below,

But spare me, spare me Jeanie dear!
O, wat ye, etc.

For while life's dearest blood is warm,
Ae thought frae her shall ne'er depart,
And she-as fairest is her form,

She has the truest, kindest heart.
O, wat ye, etc.

The Cardin' o't

I

TUNE-"Salt Fish and Dumplings."

COFT a stane o' haslock woo',
To make a coat to Johnny o't;

For Johnny is my only jo,

I lo'e him best of onie yet.
The cardin' o't, the spinnin' o't;
The warpin' o't, the winnin' o't;
When ilka ell cost me a groat,

The tailor staw the lynin' o't.

For though his locks be lyart grey,
And though his brow be beld aboon;

Yet I hae seen him on a day,

The pride of a' the parishen.
The cardin' o't, the spinnin' o't;
The warpin' o't, the winnin' o't;
When ilka ell cost me a groat,
The tailor staw the lynin' o't.