Classic Poem

The Laird of Drum is a wooing gane,
All in a morning early,
And there he spied a weel-far'd may,
She was shearing at her barley.

‘Will you fancy me, my bonny may,
And will you fancy me? O
And will you come and be Lady Drum,
And let your shearing a be?’ O

‘It 's I winna fancy you, kind sir,
I winna fancy thee;
For I 'm too low to be lady o Drum,
And your whore I would scorn to be.’

‘Ye 'll cast aff the robes of gray,
And put on the silk and the scarlet,
And here to you I 'll make a vow
Ye 'se neither be whore nor harlot.’

‘I winna cast aff the robes o gray,
To put on the silk and the scarlet,
But I 'll wear the colour of the ewe,
For they set me better than a' that.

‘But ye 'll do you doun to my father dear,
Keeping sheep on yonder hill,
And the first ae thing that he bids me I 'll do,
For I wirk aye at his will.’

He 's done him doun to her father dear,
Keeping sheep on yonder hill:
‘Ye hae a pretty creature for your daughter;
Dear me! but I like her well.’

‘It 's she can neither read nor write,
She was never brought up at the squeel;
She canna wash your china cups,
Nor yet mak a dish o tea.

‘But well can she do a' ither thing,
For I learnt the girly mysell;
She 'll fill in your barn, and winnow your corn,
She 'll gang to your kill and your mill,
And, time o need, she 'll saddle your steed,
And draw your boots hersell.’

‘Wha will bake my bridal bread,
And wha will brew my ale?
Wha will welcome my lady in?
For it 's more than I can tell.’

There was four-and-twenty gentlemen
Stood a' in the yetts o Drum,
But there was nane o them lifted their hats
To welcome the young lady in.

But up spake his ae brither,
Says, Brither, ye hae done wrang;
Ye have married a wife this day
A lauch to a' our kin.

‘I 've married ane to win my bread,
But ye married ane to spend;
But as lang's I 'm able to walk to the yetts o Drum
On me she may depend.

‘The last lady that I did wed
Was far above my command;
I durst not enter the bower where she was
But my hat low in my hand.’

When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
And a' man bound for bed,
The Laird o Drum and the shepherd's dother
In one bed they were laid.

‘If ye were come o noble bleed
An were as high as me,
We could gang to the yetts o Drum
Amangst gueed companie.’

‘I tald you ere we was wed
I was oer low for thee,
But now we are wedd and in ae bed laid,
And you must be content wi me.

‘For an ye were dead, an I were dead,
And laid in the dust low down,
When we were baith turnd up again
Wha could ken your mould frae mine?’