Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/523
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ALLISTER McALLISTER.
505
Why wish we warfare? Wherefore welcome were
Xerxes, Ximenes, Xanthus, Xaviere?
Yield ye, youths, ye yeomen,—yield your yell;
Zeno's, Zarpeter's, Zoroaster's zeal,
And all attracting—arms against appeal.
Xerxes, Ximenes, Xanthus, Xaviere?
Yield ye, youths, ye yeomen,—yield your yell;
Zeno's, Zarpeter's, Zoroaster's zeal,
And all attracting—arms against appeal.
Jocky Said to Jenny.
Jocky said to Jenny, "Jenny wilt thou wed?"
"Ne'er a fit," quo' Jenny, "for my tocher-gude;
For my tocher-gude, I winna marry thee."
"E'en's ye like," quo' Johnnie, "ye may let it be!
"Ne'er a fit," quo' Jenny, "for my tocher-gude;
For my tocher-gude, I winna marry thee."
"E'en's ye like," quo' Johnnie, "ye may let it be!
"I hae gowd and gear, I hae land eneuch;
I hae seven good owsen gangin' in a pleuch;
Gangin' in a pleuch, and linkin' ower the lea:
And gin ye winna tak' me, I can let ye be!
I hae seven good owsen gangin' in a pleuch;
Gangin' in a pleuch, and linkin' ower the lea:
And gin ye winna tak' me, I can let ye be!
"I hae a gude ha' house, a barn, and a byre,
A stack afore the door; I'll mak' a ranting fire:
I'll mak' a ranting fire, and merry shall we be:
And gin ye winna tak' me, I can let ye be.
A stack afore the door; I'll mak' a ranting fire:
I'll mak' a ranting fire, and merry shall we be:
And gin ye winna tak' me, I can let ye be.
Jenny said to Jocky, "Gin ye winna tell,
Ye shall be the lad; I'll be the lass mysel':
Ye're a bonnie lad, and I'm a lassie free;
Ye're welcomer to tak' me than to let me be."
Ye shall be the lad; I'll be the lass mysel':
Ye're a bonnie lad, and I'm a lassie free;
Ye're welcomer to tak' me than to let me be."
Allister McAllister.
O Allister McAllister,
Your chanter sets us a' astir,
Then to your pipes an' blaw wi' birr,
We'll dance the Highland fling.
Now Allister has tuned his pipes,
And thrang as bumbees frae their bykes,
The lads and lasses loup the dykes
And gather on the green.
O Allister McAllister, &c.
Your chanter sets us a' astir,
Then to your pipes an' blaw wi' birr,
We'll dance the Highland fling.
Now Allister has tuned his pipes,
And thrang as bumbees frae their bykes,
The lads and lasses loup the dykes
And gather on the green.
O Allister McAllister, &c.
The miller Rab was fidgin' fain
To dance the Highland fling his lane,
He lap and danced wi' might and main,
The like was never seen.
To dance the Highland fling his lane,
He lap and danced wi' might and main,
The like was never seen.