The Book of Scottish Song/Though dowie's the Winter

Though dowie's the Winter.

[Alexander Laing.—First printed in the "British Minstrel" edited by Mr. John Struthers, and published by Khull, Blackie, & Co., 1821.]

Though dowie's the winter sae gloomie an' drear,
O happy we've been through the dead o' the year;
An' blythe to sic bield as the burnie brae gave;
O mony a nicht ha'e we stoun frae the lave.
Now the spring-time has tane the lang e'enings awa',
We maunna be seen an' less aften I'll ca',
But May-day is coming—our wedding an' a',
Sae weary na, lassie, though I gang awa'.

Our gigglet young lasses are sairly mista'en,
They ken at the place wi' his honour I've been,
An' ta'en the plough-haudin' o' bonnie Broomlee,
But they kenna wha's coming to haud it wi' me.
They ken i' the e'enings I'm aften frae hame;
They say wi' a lass, 'cause I look na to them;
They jamph an' they jeer, an' they banter at me,
An' twenty they've guess'd o', but never guess'd thee.

I'll sing the haill day, when your dwellin' I'm near;
I'll whistle when ploughin' as far's you can hear,
An' aye when I see you, gin nae bodie see,
I'll blink to my lassie—my lassie to me.
An' aye till that time baith at kirk an' at fair,
In taiken o' true love, dear lassie, ye'll wear
The green-tartan rockley, my keepsake to thee—
An' I the white owerlay ye gifted to me.

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