I tauld ye ear', I tauld ye late, That lassie wad trapan ye, O; An' ilka word ye boud to say When left alane wi' Annie, O! Take my advice this night for aince, Or beauty's tongue will ban ye, O, An' sey your leal auld mother's skill Ayont the muir wi' Annie, O. He'll no wake, he'll no wake, He'll no wake wi' Annie, O, Nor sit his lane o'er night wi' ane The night it was a simmer night, An' wasna that right dowie, O? He maun wake, he maun wake, Neist morning at his mother's knee An' aye he clasp'd her kindly, O. I'll aye wake wi' Annie, O, Sae sweet, sae kind, an' canny, O!” THE LASS O' CARLISLE. I WROTE this daftlike song off-hand one day to fill up a page of a letter which was to go to Fraser by post, being averse to his paying for any blank paper. I did not deem it worthy of publication anywhere else; but after its having appeared in print, why, let it have a place here. I'LL sing ye a wee bit sang, A sang i' the aulden style, It is of a bonny young lass Wha lived in merry Carlisle. An' O but this lass was bonny, Sing hey, hickerty dickerty, The lass that has gowd an' beauty Has naething on earth to fear! This lassie had plenty o' wooers, As beauty an' wealth should hae; This lassie she took her a man, An' then she could get nae mae. This lassie had plenty o' weans, That keepit her hands astir; And then she dee'd and was buried, An' there was an end of her. Sing hey, hickerty dickerty, Hickerty dickerty dan, The best thing in life is to make The maist o't that we can! MY LOVE SHE'S BUT A LASSIE YET WAS written at the request of Mr Thomson, to the old air bearing that name. But after the verses were written, he would not have them, because they were not good enough. "He did not like any verses," he said, "that had the lines ending with O's, and joes, and yets, &c. as they were very poor expedients for making up the measure and rhyme." He was quite right; but what was a poor fellow to do, tied to a triple rhyme like this?—The song was afterwards published in the Literary Journal. My love she's but a lassie yet, A lightsome lovely lassie yet; It scarce wad do To sit an' woo Down by the stream sae glassy yet. |