“Black Madge she is
prudent.” “What ’s that to me?”
“She is
eident and sober, has sense in her noddle—
Is douce and respeckit.”
“I carena a boddle;
I ’ll baulk na my luve,
and my fancy ’s free.”
Madge toss’d
back her head wi’ a saucy slight,
And Nanny run laughing out
to the green;
For wooers that
come when the sun shines bright
Are no like the wooers that
come at e’en.
Awa’ flung the laird,
and loud mutter’d he,
“All the
daughters of Eve, between Orkney and Tweed, O:
Black and fair,
young and old, dame, damsel, and widow,
May gang, wi’ their
pride, to the wuddy for me.”
But the auld gudewife,
and her Mays sae tight,
For a’ his loud banning
cared little, I ween;
For a wooer that
comes in braid daylight
Is no like a wooer that comes
at e’en.
[33] This song was contributed by Miss Baillie to “The Harp of Caledonia.”
WOO’D, AND MARRIED, AND A’.[34]
The bride she is winsome and
bonnie,
Her hair it is
snooded sae sleek;
And faithful and kind is her
Johnnie,
Yet fast fa’
the tears on her cheek.
New pearlings are cause o’
her sorrow—
New pearlings
and plenishing too;
The bride that has a’
to borrow
Has e’en
right muckle ado.
Woo’d,
and married, and a’;
Woo’d,
and married, and a’;
And
is na she very weel aff,
To
be woo’d, and married, and a’?
Her mither then hastily spak—
“The lassie
is glaikit wi’ pride;
In my pouches I hadna a plack
The day that I
was a bride.
E’en tak to your wheel
and be clever,
And draw out your
thread in the sun;
The gear that is gifted, it
never
Will last like
the gear that is won.
Woo’d,
and married, an’ a’,
Tocher
and havings sae sma’;
I
think ye are very weel aff
To
be woo’d, and married, and a’.”
“Toot, toot!”
quo’ the gray-headed faither;
“She ’s
less of a bride than a bairn;
She ’s ta’en like
a cowt frae the heather,
Wi’ sense
and discretion to learn.
Half husband, I trow, and
half daddy,
As humour inconstantly
leans;
A chiel maun be constant and
steady,
That yokes wi’
a mate in her teens.
Kerchief
to cover so neat,
Locks
the winds used to blaw;
I
’m baith like to laugh and to greet,
When
I think o’ her married at a’.”
Then out spak the wily bridegroom,
Weel waled were
his wordies, I ween,—
“I ’m rich, though
my coffer be toom,
Wi’ the
blinks o’ your bonnie blue een;
I ‘m prouder o’
thee by my side,
Though thy ruffles
or ribbons be few,
Than if Kate o’ the