Classic Poem

CHORUS .

U P stairs, down stairs,
Timber stairs fear me;
I 'm laith to ly a' night my lane,
And Johny's bed sae near me.

O mither dear! I 'gin to fear,
Tho' I 'm baith good and bonny,
I winna keep; for in my sleep
I start and dream of Johny.
When Johny then comes down the glen
To woo me, dinna hinder;
But with content gi'e your consent,
For we twa ne'er can sinder.

Better to marry than miscarry,
For shame and skaith 's the clink o't;
To thole the dool, to mount the stool,
I downa bide to think o't:
Sae while 'tis time, I 'll shun the crime,
That gars poor Epps gae whinging,
With hainches fow, and een sae blew,
To a' the bedrals bindging.

Had Eppy's apron bidden down,
The kirk had ne'er a kend it;
But when the word 's gane thro' the town,
Alake! how can she mend it?
Now Tam man face the minister,
And she man mount the pillar;
And that 's the way that they man gae,
For poor folk has na siller.

Now ha'd ye'r tongue, my daughter young,
Replied the kindly mither;
Get Johny's hand in haly band,
Syne wap ye'r wealth together.
I 'm o' the mind, if he be kind,
Ye 'll do your part discreetly,
And prove a wife will gar his life
And barrel run right sweetly.