| Lyrics: | THE COUNTRY LASS
In simmer, when the hay was mawn
And corn wav'd green in ilka
field,
While claver blooms white o'er the ley
And roses blaw in ilka bield
Blythe
Bessie in the milking shiel
Says;-'I'll be wed, come o't what will!'
Out spake a dame in
wrinkled eild
'O guid advisement comes nae ill.
'lt's ye hae wooers monie
ane,
And lassie, ye're but young, ye ken!
Then wait a wee, and cannie wale
A routhie
butt, a routhie ben.
There's Johnie o the Buskie-Glen,
Fu is his barn, fu is his
byre.
Tak this frae me, my bonie hen:
It's plenty beets the luver's fire!
For Johnie
o the Buskie-Glen
I dinna care a single flie:
He lo'es sae weel his craps and kye,
He
has nae love to spare for me.
But blythe's the blink o Robie's e'e,
And weel I wat he
lo'es me dear:
Ae blink o him I wad na gie
For Buskie-Glen and a'his gear.
O
thoughtless lassie, life's a faught!
The canniest gate, the strife is sair.
But ay
fu-han't is fechin best
A hungry care an unco care
But some will spend and some will
spare
An wilfu folk maun hae their will
Syne as ye brew, ny maiden fair,
keep mind
that Ye maun drink the yill!
'O, gear will buy me rigs o land,
And gear will buy me
sheep and kye!
gut the tender heart o leesome loove
The gowd and siller canna buy!
We
may be poor, Robie and I
Light is the burden luve lays on;
Content and loove brings peace
and joy:
What mair hae Queens upon a throne?
@Scots @love
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CNTYLAS
ARB
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