( 3 )
The weather is cauld and my claithing is thin;
The ews are new clipped, they winna bught in;
They winna bught in though I shou'd die,
O yellow-hair’d laddie, be kind to me;
They winna bught in, &c.
The goodwife cries butt the house, Jenny, come ben,
The cheese is to mak, and the butter's to kirn,
Though butter, and cheese, and a' shou'd sour,
I'll crack and kiss wi’ my love ae ha'f hour;
It's ae ha'f hour, and we’s e’en mak it three,
For the yellow-hair'd laddie my husband shall be.
¤*¤*¤*¤*¤*¤*¤*¤*¤*¤*¤
ROGER AND DOLLY.
To its own proper Tune.
AS Dolly was milking of the cows,
Young Roger came tripping it over the plain,
And made unto her most delicate bows,
And then he went tripping it back again.
My pretty sweet Roger, come back again,
My pretty sweet Roger, come back again,
For it is your company that I do lack,
Or else my poor heart will break in twain.
I winna come back, nor I canna come back;
I wonot, I cannot; no, no, not I:
And if 'tis my company that you do lack,
You may lack it until the day you die.
Oh! do you not mind the curds and cream,
And many a bottle of good March beer?
When you was going along with your team?
And then it was Dolly my own sweet dear.
But I winna come back, nor I canna come back, &c.
