The Siller Croun

Susanna Blamire

And ye shall walk in silk attire,

And siller hae to spare,

Gin ye’ll consent to be his bride,

Nor think o’ Donald mair.

O wha wad buy a silken goun

Wi’ a poor broken heart!

Or what’s to me a siller croun,

Gin frae my love I part!

The mind wha’s every wish is pure

Far dearer is to me;

And ere I’m forc’d to break my faith,

I’ll lay me down an’ dee!

For I hae pledg’d my virgin troth

Brave Donald’s fate to share;

And he has gi’en to me his heart,

Wi’ a’ its virtues rare.

His gentle manners wan my heart,

He gratefu’ took the gift;

Could I but think to seek it back,

It wad be waur than theft!

For langest life can ne’er repay

The love he bears to me;

And ere I’m forc’d to break my troth,

I’ll lay me doun an’ dee.

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How can I keep my maidenhead,
My maidenhead, my maidenhead;
How can I keep my maidenhead,
Among sae mony men, O.

The Captain bad a guinea for’t,
A guinea for’t, a guinea for’t,
The Captain bad a guinea for’t,
The Colonel he bad ten, O.

But I’ll do as my minnie did,
My minnie did, my minnie did,
But I’ll do as my minnie did,
For siller I’ll hae nane, O.

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235

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Tam Glen by Robert Burns

My heart is a-breaking, dear Tittie,
Some counsel unto me come len';
To anger them a' is a pity,
But what will I do wi' Tam Glen?

I'm thinking, wi' sic a braw fellow,
In poortith I might mak a fen':
What care I in riches to wallow,
If I mauna marry Tam Glen?

There's Lowrie, the laird o' Dumeller,
"Guid-day to you,"—brute! he comes ben:
He brags and he blaws o' his siller,
But when will he dance like Tam Glen?

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121

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Tam O 'Shanter by Robert Burns

When chapman billies leave the street,
And drouthy neebors neebors meet,
As market-days are wearing late,
And folk begin to tak the gate;
While we sit bousin, at the nappy,
And gettin fou and unco happy,
We think na on the lang Scots miles,
The mosses, waters, slaps, and stiles,
That lie between us and our hame,
Whare sits our sulky, sullen dame,
Gathering her brows like gathering storm,
Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.

This truth fand honest Tam o' Shanter,
As he frae Ayr ae night did canter:

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111

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