Hector Macneil
¶[1746-1818]
I Lo'ed Ne'er a Laddie But an E
¶I LO'ED ne'er a laddie but ane,He lo'es na a lassie but me;He's willing to mak' me his ain,And his ain I am willing to be.He coft 1 me a rokelay 2 o' blue,And a pair o' mittens o' green;He vowed that he'd ever be true,And I plighted my troth yestreen.
¶Let ithers brag weel o' their gear, 3Their land and their lordly degree;I carena for aught but my dear,For he's ilka thing lordly to me.His words are sae sugared, sae sweet,His sense drives ilk 4 fear far awa';I listen, puir fool, and I greet,Yet how sweet are the tears as they fa'!
¶'Dear lassie,' he cries wi' a jeer,'Ne'er heed what the auld anes will say:[577]Though we've little to brag o', ne'er fear,What's gowd to a heart that is wae?Our laird has baith honours and wealth,Yet see how he's dwining 5 wi' care;Now we, though we've naething but health,Are cantie 6 and leal 7 evermair.
p. 577¶'O Menie, the heart that is trueHas something mair costly than gear;Ilk e'en it has naething to rue,Ilk morn it has naething to fear.Ye warldlings, gae hoard up your store,And tremble for fear aught ye tyne; 8Guard your treasures wi' lock, bar, and door,While here in my arms I lock mine!'
¶He ends wi' a kiss and a smiles—Wae's me, can I tak' it amiss?My laddie's unpractised in guile,He's free aye to daut 9 and to kiss.Ye lasses wha' lo'e to tormentYour wooers wi' fause scorn and strife,Play your pranks; I ha'e gi'en my consent,And this night I am Jamie's for life.
Come Under My Plaidie
¶'COME under my plaidie, the night's gaun to fa';Come in frae the cauld blast, the drift, and the snaw:Come under my plaidie, and sit down beside me,There's room in't, dear lassie, believe me, for twa.Come under my plaidie, and sit down beside me,
¶I'll hap 1 ye frae every cauld blast that can blaw:
¶Oh, come under my plaidie, and sit down beside me!There's room in't, dear lassie, believe me, for twa.'
¶'Gae 'wa wi' your plaidie, auld Donald, gae 'wa!I fearna the cauld blast, the drift, nor the snaw;Gae 'wa wi' your plaidie; I'll no sit beside ye,Ye may be a gutcher, 2 auld Donald, gae 'wa.[578]I'm gaun to meet Johnnie—he's young and he's bonnie;He's been at Meg's bridal, fu' trig 3 and fu' braw: 4Oh, nane dances sae lightly, sae gracefu', sae tightly;His cheek's like the new rose, his brow's like the snaw.'
p. 578¶'Dear Marion, let that flee stick fast to the wa';Your Jock's but a gowk, 5 and has naething ava;The hale 6 o' his pack he has now on his back:He's thretty, and I am but threescore and twa.Be frank now and kindly: I'll busk 7 ye aye finely,To kirk or to market there'll few gang sae braw;A bien 8 house to bide in, a chaise for to ride in,And flunkies to 'tend ye as aft as ye ca'.'
¶'My father's aye tauld me, my mither an a',Ye'd mak' a gude husband, and keep me aye braw:It's true I lo'e Johnnie—he's gude and he's bonnie,But, wae's me! ye ken he has naething ava.I ha'e little tocher: 9 you've made a good offer:I'm now mair than twenty—my time is but sma';Sae, gi'e me your plaidie, I'll creep in beside ye,I thocht ye'd been aulder than threescore and twa.'
¶She crap in ayont him, aside the stane wa'.Where Johnnie was list'nin, and heard her tell a';The day was appointed: his proud heart it dunted, 1 0And strack 'gainst his side as if bursting in twa.He wandered hame weary: the night it was dreary;And, thowless, 11 he tint 1 2 his gate 'mang the deep snaw:The owlet was screamin'; while Johnnie cried, 'WomenWad marry Auld Nick if he'd keep them aye braw!'