8 But at twal at night, when the moon shines bright, My dear I'll come and see thee; O STEER HER UP. Tune-"O steer her up, and haud her gaun.” O STEER her up, and haud her gaun,— And gin she winna take a man, O steer her up, and be na blate, And time nae langer spill, jo : O AYE MY WIFE SHE DANG ME.* Tune-"My wife she dang me." O AYE my wife she dang me, Gude faith, she'll soon o'ergang ye. And fool I was I married; But never honest man's intent As cursedly miscarried. * When Burns wrote the above, he had probably in his recollection the old words to which the air was originally united. I was twenty years a bachelor, But I never could contented be But I hadna lang married been Till she began to bang me, And near dang out my very een, And sware she would gae hang me. Ae day I at a wedding was And dancing on the green; And on the flure she dang me, But when I did get up again, Then fast awa ran I; My wife she chas'd me owre the plain But I soon tipped her the wink, And said nae mair ye'se bang me, I'll drink nae mair o' your sour drink M. Some sairie comfort still at last, And aft my wife did bang me; Gude faith, she'll soon o'ergang ye. OH, WERT THOU IN THE CAULD BLAST. Tune-"Lass o' Livistone." OH, wert thou in the cauld blast, On yonder lea, on yonder lea, My plaidie to the angry airt, I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee: Or did misfortune's bitter storms Around thee blaw, around thee blaw, Thy bield should be my bosom, Or were I in the wildest waste, Sae black and bare, sae black and bare, If thou wert there, if thou wert there: Or were I monarch o' the globe, Wi' thee to reign, wi' thee to reign, The brightest jewel in my crown H O WHA IS SHE THAT LO'ES ME. Tune-"Morag." O WHA is she that lo'es me, O that's the queen of womankind, If thou shalt meet a lassie In grace and beauty charming, O that's the queen o' womankind, If thou hadst heard her talking, And thy attentions plighted, That ilka body talking, But her by thee is slighted, O that's the lassie o' my heart, If thou hast met this fair one; When frae her thou hast parted, If every other fair one, But her, thou hast deserted, O that's the lassie o' my heart, O LAY THY LOOF IN MINE, LASS. Tune-" Cordwainer's March." O LAY thy loof in mine, lass, There's monie a lass has broke my rest, For ever to remain. O lay thy loof in mine, lass, In mine, lass, in mine, lass; And swear on thy white hand, lass, That thou wilt be my ain. |