No More Learning

The girdin brak, the beast cam down,
I tint my curch, and baith my shoon;
Ah! Duncan, ye're an unco loon--
Wae on the bad girdin o't!

III.

But, Duncan, gin ye'll keep your aith--
Ha, ha, the girdin o't!
I'se bless you wi' my hindmost breath--
Ha, ha, the girdin o't!
Duncan, gin ye'll keep your aith,
The beast again can bear us baith,
And auld Mess John will mend the skaith,
And clout the bad girdin o't.

* * * * *




L.

THE PLOUGHMAN.

Tune--"_Up wi' the ploughman. _"

[The old words, of which these in the Museum are an altered and
amended version, are in the collection of Herd. ]


I.

The ploughman he's a bonnie lad,
His mind is ever true, jo,
His garters knit below his knee,
His bonnet it is blue, jo.
Then up wi' him my ploughman lad,
And hey my merry ploughman!
Of a' the trades that I do ken,
Commend me to the ploughman.

II.
My ploughman he comes hame at e'en,
He's aften wat and weary;
Cast off the wat, put on the dry,
And gae to bed, my dearie!

III.

I will wash my ploughman's hose,
And I will dress his o'erlay;
I will mak my ploughman's bed,
And cheer him late and early.

IV.

I hae been east, I hae been west,
I hae been at Saint Johnston;
The bonniest sight that e'er I saw
Was the ploughman laddie dancin'.

V.

Snaw-white stockins on his legs,
And siller buckles glancin';
A gude blue bonnet on his head--
And O, but he was handsome!

VI.

Commend me to the barn-yard,
And the corn-mou, man;
I never gat my coggie fou,
Till I met wi' the ploughman.
Up wi' him my ploughman lad,
And hey my merry ploughman!
Of a' the trades that I do ken,
Commend me to the ploughman.

* * * * *




LI.

LANDLADY, COUNT THE LAWIN.

Tune--"_Hey tutti, taiti. _"

[Of this song, the first and second verses are by Burns: the closing
verse belongs to a strain threatening Britain with an invasion from
the iron-handed Charles XII. of Sweden, to avenge his own wrongs and
restore the line of the Stuarts.