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So thief am I, as some alledge,
Tho’ sore hath cold and hunger try’d me;
I pluck the haw-berry from the hedge,
When human aid is oft deny’d me.
But hush, my babe! tho’ large the load
Of woes that we are doom’d to carry,
Witihn some cold grave's bleak abode
You'll sweetly sleep with Wand’ring Mary
You'll sweetly sleep, &c.
Tho’ sore hath cold and hunger try’d me;
I pluck the haw-berry from the hedge,
When human aid is oft deny’d me.
But hush, my babe! tho’ large the load
Of woes that we are doom’d to carry,
Witihn some cold grave's bleak abode
You'll sweetly sleep with Wand’ring Mary
You'll sweetly sleep, &c.
I lo’ed ne’er a laddie but ane.
I lo’ed ne’er a laddie but ane.
He lo’ed ne’er a laddie but me:
He’s willing to mak me his ain,
And his ain I am willing to be.
He has coft me a rocklay o’ blue,
And a pair o’ mittens o’ green;
The price was a kiss o’ my mou’,
And I paid him the debt yestreen.
He lo’ed ne’er a laddie but me:
He’s willing to mak me his ain,
And his ain I am willing to be.
He has coft me a rocklay o’ blue,
And a pair o’ mittens o’ green;
The price was a kiss o’ my mou’,
And I paid him the debt yestreen.
Dear Lassie, he cries wi' a jeer,
Ne’er heed what the auld anes will say;
Tho’ 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 wi’ care:
Now we, tho’ we’ve naithing but health,
And cantie and loil evermair:
Ne’er heed what the auld anes will say;
Tho’ 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 wi’ care:
Now we, tho’ we’ve naithing but health,
And cantie and loil evermair:
