d-twenty years
A man and wife together;
At length from me her course she steer'd,
And gone I know not whither:
Would I could guess, I do profess,
I speak, and do not flatter,
Of all the woman in the world,
I never could come at her.
III.
Her body is bestowed well,
A handsome grave does hide her;
But sure her soul is not in hell,
The deil would ne'er abide her.
I rather think she is aloft,
And imitating thunder;
For why,--methinks I hear her voice
Tearing the clouds asunder.
* * * * *
XXXIV.
COME DOWN THE BACK STAIRS.
Tune--"_Whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad._"
[The air of this song was composed by John Bruce, a Dumfries fiddler.
Burns gave another and happier version to the work of Thomson: this
was written for the Museum of Johnson, where it was first published.]
CHORUS.
O whistle, and I'll come
To you, my lad;
O whistle, and I'll come
To you, my lad:
Tho' father and mither
Should baith gae mad,
O whistle, and I'll come
To you, my lad.
Come down the back stairs
When ye come to court me;
Come down the back stairs
When ye come to court me;
Come down the back stairs,
And let naebody see,
And come as ye were na
Coming to me.
* * * * *
XXXV.
I AM MY MAMMY'S AE BAIRN.
Tune--"_I'm o'er young to marry yet._"
[The title, and part of the chorus only of this song, are old; the
rest is by Burns, and was written for Johnson.]
I.
I am my mammy's ae bairn,
Wi' unco folk I weary, Sir;
And lying in a man's bed,
I'm fley'd it make me eerie, Sir.
I'm o'er young to marry yet;
I'm o'er young to marry yet;
I'm o'er young--'twad be a sin
To tak' me frae my mammy yet.
II.
Hallowmas is come and gane,
The nights are lang in winter, Sir;
And you an' I in ae bed,
In trouth, I dare na venture, Sir.
III.
Fu' loud and shrill the frosty wind,
Blaws through the leafless timmer, Sir;
But, if ye come this gate again,
I'll aulder be gin simmer, Sir.
I'm o'er young to marry yet;
I'm o'er young to marry yet;
I'm o'er young, 'twad be a sin
To tak me frae my mammy yet.
* * * *
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