No More Learning

THE CARDIN' O'T.

Tune--"_Salt-fish and dumplings. _"

["This song," says Sir Harris Nicolas, "is in the Musical Museum, but
not with Burns's name to it. " It was given by Burns to Johnson in his
own handwriting. ]


I.

I coft a stane o' haslock woo',
To make a wat to Johnny o't;
For Johnny is my only jo,
I lo'e him best of ony yet.
The cardin' o't, the spinnin' o't,
The warpin' o't, the winnin' o't;
When ilka ell cost me a groat,
The tailor staw the lynin o't.

II.

For though his locks be lyart gray,
And tho' his brow be beld aboon;
Yet I hae seen him on a day,
The pride of a' the parishen.
The cardin' o't, the spinnin' o't,
The warpin' o't, the winnin' o't;
When ilka ell cost me a groat,
The tailor staw the lynin o't.

* * * * *




CLIX.

WHEN JANUAR' WIND.

Tune--"_The lass that made the bed for me. _"

[Burns found an old, clever, but not very decorous strain, recording
an adventure which Charles the Second, while under Presbyterian rule
in Scotland, had with a young lady of the house of Port Letham, and
exercising his taste and skill upon it, produced the present--still
too free song, for the Museum. ]


I.
When Januar' wind was blawing cauld,
As to the north I took my way,
The mirksome night did me enfauld,
I knew na where to lodge till day.

II.

By my good luck a maid I met,
Just in the middle o' my care;
And kindly she did me invite
To walk into a chamber fair.

III.

I bow'd fu' low unto this maid,
And thank'd her for her courtesie;
I bow'd fu' low unto this maid,
And bade her mak a bed to me.

IV.

She made the bed baith large and wide,
Wi' twa white hands she spread it down;
She put the cup to her rosy lips,
And drank, "Young man, now sleep ye soun'. "

V.

She snatch'd the candle in her hand,
And frae my chamber went wi' speed;
But I call'd her quickly back again
To lay some mair below my head.

VI.

A cod she laid below my head,
And served me wi' due respect;
And to salute her wi' a kiss,
I put my arms about her neck.

VII.

"Haud aff your hands, young man," she says,
"And dinna sae uncivil be:
If ye hae onto love for me,
O wrang na my virginitie! "

VIII.

Her hair was like the links o' gowd,
Her teeth were like the ivorie;
Her cheeks like lilies dipt in wine,
The lass that made the bed to me.

IX.