Merry Muses of Caledonia by Robert Burns
Ye'se Get a Hole to Hide It In
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- Bu səhifədəki naviqasiya:
- Hes Hoyed Me oot o Lauderdale
- Madgie Cam to My Bed-Stock
- How can I Keep my Maidenheid
- Oor Gudewifes Sae Modest
- O Gat Ye Me wi Naething
- Nine Inch will Please a Lady
- The Lassie Gathrin Nits
- When Princes an Prelates
- Green Growe the Rashes, O
- While Prose-Work an Rhymes
- I Rede You Beware o the Ripples
- Act Sederunt o the Session
Ye'se Get a Hole to Hide It In O will ye speak at oor toun, As ye come frae the fair? An ye'se get a hole to hide it in, Ye'se get a hole to hide it in; Will ye speak at oor toun As ye come frae the fair, Ye'se get a hole to hide it in , Will haud it a' an mair. O haud awa your hand, Sir, Ye gar me ay think shame; An ye'se get a hole to hide it in; Ye'se get a hole to hide it in; O haud awa your hand, Sir, Ye gar me ay think shame; An ye'se get a hole to hide it in, An think yoursel at hame. O will ye let abee, Sir; Toots! nou, ye've rivt my sark, An ye'se get a hole to hide it in, Ye'se get a hole to hide it in; O will ye let abee, Sir; Toots! nou, ye've reft my sark; An ye'se get a hole to hide it in, Whare ye mey work your wark. O haud awa your hand, Sir, Ye're like to pit me daft; An ye'se get a hole to hide it in, Ye'se get a hole to hide it in; O haed awa your hand, Sir, Ye're like to put me daft; An ye'se get a hole to hide it in, To keep it warm an saft. O haed it in your hand, Sir, Till I get up my claes, An ye'se get a hole to hide it in, Ye'se get a hole to hide it in; O haed it in your hand, Sir, Till I get up my claes; An ye'se get a hole to hide it in, To keep it frae the flaes. Jenny Macraw Jenny Macraw was a bird o the gemme, An mony a shot haed been lowsed at her wame; Be't a lang bearin airae, or the sherp-rattlin hail, Still, whirr! she flew aff wi the shot in her tail. Jenny Macraw to the mountains she's gaen, Their leagues an their covenants a' she haes taen; My heid nou, an hert nou, qo she, are at rest, An for my puir cunt, let the deil dae his best. Jenny Macraw on a midsummer morn, She cut aff her cunt an she hang't on a thorn; There she loot it hing for a year an a day, But, oh! how leuked her erse when her cunt was awa. Jockey was a Bonny Lad My jockey is a bonny lad, A denty lad, a merry lad, A neat sweet pretty little lad, An juist the lad for me. For when we ower the meidows stray, He's ay sae lively ay sae gay, An aft richt canty dis he say, There's nane he loes like me. An he's ay huggin ay dawtin, Ay clappin, ay pressin, Ay squeezin, ay kissin, An winna let me be. I met my lad the ither day, Friskin throu a field o hey, Says he, dear Jenny, will ye stey, An crack a while wi me. Na, Jockey lad, I daurna stey, My mither she'd miss me awa; Syne she'll flyte an scaud a' day, An play the diel wi me. But Jockey still continued, Hoot! Jockey, see my hair is doun, An leuk you've torn a' my goun, An how will I gae throu the toun, Dear laddie tell to me.
But wi my neck an bosom played; Tho I intreated, begged an prayed Him no to touzle me. But Jockey still continued Huggin, dawtin, clappin, squeezin, An ay kissin, kissin, kissin, Till doun cam we. As braithless an fatigued I lay, In his airms amang the hey, My bluid fast throu my veins did play As he lay huggin me; I thocht my braith wou'd never last, For Jockey danced sae devilish fast; But what cam ower, I trow, at last,
O a' his jumpin an his prance, An confessed ithoot romance, He was fain to let me be. Johnie Scott Whare will we get a coat to Johnie Scott, Amang us maidens a'? Whare will we get a coat to Johnie Scott, To mak the laddie braw: There's your cunt-hair, an there's my cunt-hair, An we'll twine it wondrous sma'; An if waft be scarce, we'll cowe oor erse, To mak him kilt an a'. He's Hoyed Me oot o Lauderdale There lived a lady in Lauderdale, She loe'd a fiddler fine; She loe'd him in her chaumer, She held him in her mind; She made his bed at her bed-stock, She said he was her brither; But she's hoyed him oot o Lauderdale, His fiddle an a' thegither. First when I cam to Lauderdale, I haed a fiddle guid, My soundin-pin stuid like the aik That growes in Lauder-wud; But nou my soundin-pin's gaen doun, An tint the fit forever; She's hoyed me oot o Lauderdale, My fiddle an a' thegither. First when I cam to Lauderdale, Your Ladyship can declare, I played a bow, a noble bow, As e'er was strung wi hair; But downa do's come ower me nou, An your Ladyship winna consider; She's hoyed me oot o Lauderdale, My fiddle an a' thegither. The Linkin Laddie Waes me that e'er I made your bed! Waes me that e'er I saw ye! For nou I've lost my maidenheid, An I ken na how they ca' ye. My name's weel kend in my ain countrie, They ca' me the linkin laddie; An ye haed na been as willin as I, Shame fa' them wad e'er hae bade ye. The Lass o Liviston The bonny lass o Liviston, Her name ye ken, her name ye ken; An ay the welcomer ye'll be, The farther ben, the farther ben, An she haes it written in her contract To lie her lane, to lie her lane, An I hae written in my contract To claw her wame, to claw her wame. The bonny lass o Liviston, She's berry broun, she's berry broun; An ye winna true her lovely locks, Gae farther doun, gae farther doun. She haes a black an a rollin ee, An a dimplit chin, an a dimplit chin; An no to pree her rosy lips, Wad be a sin, wad be a sin. The bonny lass o Liviston, Cam in to me, cam in to me; I wat wi baith ends o the busk, I made me free, I made me free. I laid her feet to my bed-stock, Her heid to the wa', her heid to the wa'; An I gied her her wee coat in her teeth, Her sark an a', her sark an a'. Madgie Cam to My Bed-Stock Madgie cam to my bed-stock, To see gif I was waukin; I pat my haun atweesh her feet, An fand her wee bit maukin.
An pentle was the ladle; Ballocks were the servin-men That waited at the table. Fal, lal, &c. O Saw ye my Maggie? Saw ye my maggie? Saw ye my Maggie? Saw ye my Maggie? Comin ower the lea? What mark haes your Maggie, What mark haes your Maggie , What mark haes your Maggie, That ane mey ken her be? My Maggie haes a mark, Ye'll finnd it in the dark, It's in below her sark, A little abuin her knee. What wealth haes your Maggie, What wealth haes your Maggie, What wealth haes your Maggie, In tocher, gear, or fee? My Maggie haes a treasure, A hidden mine o pleasure, I'll howk it at my leisure, It's alane for me. How loe ye your Maggy, How loe ye your Maggy, How loe ye your Maggy, An loe nane but she? Ein that tell oor wishes, Eager glowin kisses, Then diviner blisses, In holy ecstacy!-- How meet you your Maggie, How meet you your Maggie, How meet you your Maggie, When nane's to hear or see? Heevenly joys before me, Rapture tremblin ower me, Maggie I adore thee, On my bended knee!!! How can I Keep my Maidenheid? How can I keep my maidenheid, My maidenheid, my maidenheid; How can I keep my maidenheid, Amang 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 dae as my minnie did, My minnie did, my minnie did; But I'll dae as my minnie did, For siller I'll hae nane, O. I'll gie it to a bonnie lad, A bonnie lad, a bonnie lad; I'll gie it to a bonnie lad, For juist as guid again, O. An auld moulie maidenheid, A maidenheid, a maidenheid; An auld moulie maidenheid, The weary wark I ken, O. The stretchin o't, the strivin o't, The borin o't, the rivin o't, An ay the dooble drivin o't, The farther ye gang ben, O. Bonnie Mary Chorus-- Come cowe me, minnie, come cowe me; Come cowe me, minnie, come cowe me; The hair o my erse is grown into my cunt, An they canna win too, to mowe me. When Mary cam ower the Border, When Mary cam ower the Border; As eith 'twas approachin the cunt o a hurchin, Her erse was in sic a disorder.-- But wanton Wattie cam west on't, But wanton Wattie cam west on't, He did it sae tickle, he left nae as meikle 'S a spider wad bigget a nest on't.-- An was nae Wattie a Clinker, He m-w'd frae the Queen to the tinkler Then sat doun, in grief, like the Macedon chief For want o mae warlds to conquer.-- An O, what a jewel was Mary! An O, what a jewel was Mary! Her face it was fine, & her bosom divine, An her cunt it was theekit wi glory.-- Come cowe &c. Muirland Meg Amang oor young lassies there's Muirland Meg, She'll beg or she work, & she'll play or she beg, At thirteen her maidenheid flew to the gate, An the door o her cage stands open yet.-- Her kittle black een they wad thirl you throu. Her rose-bud lips cry, kiss me nou; The curls & links o her bonnie black heir,-- Wad put you in mind that the lassie haes mair.-- An armfu o love is her bosom sae plump, A span o delyte is her middle sae jimp; A taper, white leg, & a thumpin thie, An a fiddle near by, an ye play a wee!-- Love's her delyte, & kissin's her treasure; She'll stick at nae price, & ye gie her guid measure, As lang's a sheep-fit, & as girt's a goose-egg, An that's the measure o Muirland Meg. Oor Gudewife's Sae Modest Oor gudewife's sae modest, When she is set at meat, A laverock's leg, or a tittlin's wing, Is mair than she can eat; But, when she's in her bed at e'en, Between me an the wa'; She is a glutton deevil, She swallaes cocks an a'. The Modiewark The modiewark haes duin me ill, An below my apron haes biggit a hill; I maun consult some learned clerk Aboot this wanton modiewark. An O the wanton modiewark, The weary wanton modiewark; I maun consult some learned clerk Aboot this wanton modiewark. O first it gat between my taes, Oot ower my gairter neest it gaes; At length it crap below my sark, The weary wanton modiewark. This modiewark, tho it be blin'; If ance its nose you lat it in, Then to the hilts, within a crack It's oot o sicht, the modiewark. When Marjorie was made a bride, An Willy lay doun by her side, Syne nocht was hard, when a' was dark, But kickin at the modiewark. Wha'll Mow Me Nou? O, I hae tint my rosy cheek, Likewice my waste sae sma'; O wae gae by the sodger lown, The sodger did it a'. O wha'll mowe me nou, my jo, An wha'll mowe me nou: A sodger wi his bandileers Haes banged my belly fou. Nou I maun thole the scornfu sneer O mony a saucy quine; When, curse upon her godly face! Her cunt's as merry's mine. Oor dame hauds up her wanton tail, As due as she gaes lie; An she misca's a young thing, The trade if she but try. Oor dame can lae her ain guidman, An mowe for glutton greed; An yet misca' a puir thing, That's mowin for its breid. Alake! sac sweet a tree as love, Sic bitter fruit should bear! Alake, that e'er a merry erse, Should draw a sauty teir. But deevil damn the lousy loon, Denies the bairn he got! Or lea's the merry erse he loe'd, To wier a ragged coat! O Gat Ye Me wi Naething? Gat ye me, O gat ye me, An gat ye me wi naething? A rock, a reel, a spinnin wheel, A guid black cunt was ae thing. A tocher fine, ower muckle far, When sic a scullion gat it; Indeed, ower rnuckle far, gudewife, For that was ay the faut o't. But haed your tongue nou, Luckie Lang, O haed your tongue an jander, I held the gate till you I met, Syne I began to wander; I tint my whistle an my sang, I tint my peace an pleasure, But your green grave nou, Luckie Lang, Wad airt me to my treasure. Nine Inch will Please a Lady "Come rede me, dame, come tell me, dame, "My dame come tell me truly, "What length o graith, when weel ca'd hame, "Will sair a wumman duly?" The carlin clew her wanton tail, Her wanton tail sae ready-- I learned a sang in Annandale, Nine inch will please a lady.-- But for a koontrie cunt like mine, In sooth, we're nae sae gentle; We'll tak tway thoum-breid to the nine, An that's a sonsy pentle: O Leeze me on my Chairlie lad, I'll ne'er forget my Chairlie! Tway roarin handfus an a daud, He nidge't it in fou rarely.-- But weary fa' the laithron doup, An mey it ne'er be thrivin! It's no the length that maks me lowp, But it's the dooble drivin.-- Come nidge me, Tam, come nidge me, Tam, Come nidge me ower the nyvel! Come lowse & lug your batterin ram, An thrash him at my gyvel! The Lassie Gath'rin Nits There was a lass, an a bonnie lass, A gath'rin nits did gang; She pou'd them hiegh, she pou'd them laich, She pou'd them whare they hang. Till tired at length, she laid her doun, An sleept the wud amang;
Three lusty lads an strang. The first did kiss her rosy lips, He thocht it was nae wrang; The saicont lowsed her bodice fair, Laced up wi London whang. An what the third did to the lass, I's no put in this sang; But the lassie waukened in a fricht, An says, I hae sleept lang. The Patriarch As honest Jacob on a nicht, Wi his beloved beauty, Was duly laid on wedlock's bed, An noddin at his duty. Tal de dal &c. "How lang, she says, ye fumblin wretch, "Will ye be fuckin at it? "My eldest wean micht dee o age, "Before that ye could get it. "Ye pech an grane, an groazle there, "An mak an unco splutter, "An I maun lie an thole you here, "An fient a hair the better." Then he, in wrath, put up his graith, "The deevil's in the hizzie! "I mowe you as I mowe the lave, "An nicht an day I'm bisy. "I've bairned the servant gypsies baith, "Forby your titty Leah; "Ye barren jad, ye put me mad, "What mair can I dae wi you. "There's ne'er a mowe I've gien the lave, "But ye hae got a dizzen; "An damn'd a ane ye'se get again, "Altho your cunt should gizzen." Then Rachel calm, as ony lamb, She claps him on the waulies; Qo she, "ne'er fash a wumman's clash, "In trowth ye mowe me braulies. "My dear 'tis true, for mony a mowe, "I'm your ungratefu debtor, "But ance again, I dinna ken, "We'll aiblens happen better." Then honest man! wi little wark, The patriarch, he cuist the sark, An up an till't like fire! When Princes an Prelates When princes & prelates & het-heided zealots A' Europe hae set in a lowe, The puir man lies doun, nor envies a croun, An comforts himsel wi a mowe.-- Chorus-- An why shouldna puir folk mowe, mowe, mowe, An why shouldna puir folk mowe: The great folk hae siller, & hooses & lands, Puir bodies hae naething but mowe.-- When Br-nsw-ck's great Prince cam a cruisin to Fr-nce, Republican billies to cowe, Bauld Br-nsw-ck's great Prince wad hae shawn better sense, At hame wi his Princess to mowe.-- An why should na &c. Oot ower the Rhine prood Pr-ss-a wad shine, To spend his best bluid he did vow; But Frederic haed better ne'er forded the watter, But spent as he docht in a mowe.-- An why &c. By sea & by shore! the Emperor swore, In Paris he'd kick up a row; But Paris sae ready juist leuch at the laddie An bade him gae tak him a mowe.-- An why &c. Auld Kate laid her claws on puir Stanislaus, An Poland haes bent like a bow: Mey the deil in her erse ram a huge pr-ck o bress! An damn her in hell wi a mowe! But truce wi commotions & new-fangled notions, A bumper I trust you'll allou: Here's George oor guid king & Charlotte his queen An lang mey they tak a guid mowe! Cumnock Psalms As I leuked ower yon castle wa', I spied a grey goose & a gled; They haed a fecht between them twa, An O, as their twa hurdies gade.-- Chorus Wi a hey ding it in, & a how ding it in, An hey ding it in, it's lang to day: Tal laretal, tallarietal Tal larietal, tal larie tay.
Between them twa they made a mowe, An ilka fart that the carlin gae, It's fower o them wad fill a bowe. Wi a hey ding it in &c. Temper your tail, Carlin, he cried, Temper your tail by Venus' law; Dooble your dunts, the dame replied, Wha the deil can hinder the wind to blaw! Wi a hey &c. For were ye in my saidle set, An were ye weel girt in my gear, If the wind o my erse blaw you oot o my cunt, Ye'lI never be reckoned a man o weir.-- Wi a hey &c. He placed his Jacob whare she did piss, An his ballocks whare the wind did blaw, An he grippet her fast by the goosset o the erse An he gae her cunt the common law. Wi a hey &c. Green Growe the Rashes, O A Fragment-- Chorus Green growe the rashes O, Green growe the rashes O, The lasses they hae wimble bores, The widaes they hae gashes O. In sober oors I am a priest; A hero when I'm tipsey, O; But I'm a king an every thing, When wi a wanton Gipsey, O. Green growe & c. 'twas late yestreen I met wi ane, An wow, but she was gentle, O! Ae haun she par roon' my cravat, The tither to my pentle O. Green growe &c. I docht na speak-yet was na fleyed-- My hert played duntie, duntie, O; An ceremony laid aside, I fairly fun' her cuntie, O.--
An how she trowed the wabster, O, She loot me see her carrot cunt, An sell'd it for a labster, O. Green growe the rashes, O, Green growe the rashes, O, The lassies they hae wimble-bores, The widaes they hae gashes, O. Mistress Mary cowed her thing, Because she wad be gentle, O, An span the fleece upon a rock, To waft a Hieland mantle, O. An heard ye o the coat o airms, The Lyon brocht oor lady, O, The crest was, couchant, sable cunt, The motto-" ready, ready ," O. An ken ye Leezie Lundie, O. The godly Leezie Lundie, O, She mowes like reek throu a' the week, But finger fucks on Sunday, O. While Prose-Work an Rhymes A Ballad While Prose-work & rhymes Are hunted for crimes, An things are--the deevil kens how; Aware o my rhymes, In these kittle times, The subject I chuise is a mowe. Some cry, Constitution! Some cry, Revolution! An Politics kick up a rowe; But Prince & Republic, Agree on the Subject, No treason is in a guid mowe. Th' Episcopal lawn, An Presbyter band, Hae lang been to ither a cowe; But still the prood Prelate, An Presbyter zealot Agree in an orthodox mowe. Puir Juistice, 'tis hinted-- Ill natur'dly squinted, The Process--but mumowee'll allou-- Puir Juistice haes ever For cunt haed a favor, While Juistice could tak a guid mowe. Nou fill to the brim-- To her, & to him, Wha willinly dae what they dow; An ne'er a puir wench Want a freend at a pinch, Whase failin is only a mowe.
I rede you beware o the ripples, young man; Tho the saidle be saft, ye needna ride aft, For fear that the girdin beguile ye, young man. I rede you beware o the ripples, young man, I rede you beware o the ripples, young man; Tho muisic be pleasure, tak muisic in measure, Or ye mey want win' i' your whistle, young man. I rede you beware o the ripples, young man, I rede you beware o the ripples, young man; Whate'er ye bestow, dae less than ye dow, The mair will be thocht o your kindness, young man. I rede you beware o the ripples, young man, I rede you beware o the ripples, young man; Gif you wad be strang, an wish to live lang, Dance less wi your erse to the kipples, young man. Act Sederunt o the Session A Scots Ballad-- In Edinburgh toun they've made a law, In Edinburgh at the Coort o Session That standin pr-cks are fauteors a', An guilty o a hiech transgression.-- Chorus Act Sederunt o the Session, Descreet o the Coort o Session, That standin pr-cks are fauteors a', An guilty o a hiech transgression. An they've provided dungeons deep. Ilk lass haes ane in her possession; Until the wretches wail an weep, They there shall lie for their transgression.-- Chorus Act Sederunt o the Session, Decreet o the Coort o Session, The rogues in pourin tears shall weep, By act Sederunt o the Session.-- There Cam a Soger There cam a soger here to stey, He swore he wadna steer me; But, lang before the brak o day, He cuddled-muddled near me: He set a stiff thing to my wame, I docht na bide the bends o't; But lang before the grey morn cam, I soupled baith the ends o't.-- Yüklə 231,5 Kb. Dostları ilə paylaş:
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