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Burns, Robert, 1759-1796

"Poems and Songs of Robert Burns"


The bonie lass, &c.
Upon the morrow when we raise,
I thank'd her for her courtesie;
But aye she blush'd and aye she sigh'd,
And said, "Alas, ye've ruin'd me."
I claps'd her waist, and kiss'd her syne,
While the tear stood twinkling in her e'e;
I said, my lassie, dinna cry.
For ye aye shall make the bed to me.
The bonie lass, &c.
She took her mither's holland sheets,
An' made them a' in sarks to me;
Blythe and merry may she be,
The lass that made the bed to me.
Chorus--The bonie lass made the bed to me,
The braw lass made the bed to me.
I'll ne'er forget till the day I die,
The lass that made the bed to me.


Had I The Wyte? She Bade Me
Had I the wyte, had I the wyte,
Had I the wyte? she bade me;
She watch'd me by the hie-gate side,
And up the loan she shaw'd me.
And when I wadna venture in,
A coward loon she ca'd me:
Had Kirk an' State been in the gate,
I'd lighted when she bade me.
Sae craftilie she took me ben,
And bade me mak nae clatter;
"For our ramgunshoch, glum gudeman
Is o'er ayont the water.


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