Four Songs (Newton-Stewart)/Annandale Robin

by Anonymous

Text divider from 'Four Songs', an undated chapbook printed in Newton-Stewart

ANNANDALE ROBIN.

Young Robin had been at the market,
And hired himsel wi' Craigfast;
Forbye the wee drap in his noddle,
Had got a' the wages he asked,
He, wha had been touned out wi' tenants,
Would soon be head man to the laird—
A point at baith shearing and mawin,
And bigs a' the ricks i' the yard.

It's right ay for lads to live canty
And lasses till they get a man;
For fouks to be social and sober,
And ay as content as they can.

The moor-hags were wide—but he stenn'd them
He staptnae for stick nor for stane
Till down by the scroggs o' Congailly,
He met bonny Bet a' her lane.
Ae luck on the back o' anither;
He lang wished her kindness to seek;
Nae scene could be sweeter for wooin,
What time was he fitter to speak?
It's right ay for lads to live canty, &c.

Stay still, tell us where ye've been daundering,
For me I ha'e been at the town,
See sic a braw knowe there fornent us,
Would maist tempt a saint to sit down.
Hech me! but its lang since I saw you,
And vow! ye're grown gaudy and grand;
The chiels will so pester and plague ye,
For peace sake ye maun tak a man."
  It's right ay for lads to live canty, &c.

But Bet looket blate like and bashfu,
She sighed and said naething ava;
Hang her head—rowed a strae roun her finger,
Gar'd Robin ay closer to draw.
He prest her, he courted, he clapped,
Snapt a kiss, for it weel on was dark;
Whan, to crown a' his hopes in a hurry,
She haflins said ay in a hark.
  It's right ay for lads to live canty, &c.

Ay lyin ane's lane soon grows dowie;
So Robin thought lang for a spouse;
Farewell to the freaks o' the market,
The lang wage and braw gentle house.
The auld folks were couthy and kindly,
The bridal was hurried aff han:
Sae kindly they cuddled thegither,
But houses, or haddin, or lan.
  It's right ay for lads to live canty, &c.

But wha can tell how things may alter
Or what half a year brings about;
For Robin turned dowffer and duller,
As Betty began to speak out.
She cries out for this and for that thing,
Like a bell thro' his lug her tongue twangs,
And ay siken matches she might haen,
While he sits as dumb as the tangs.
  It's right ay for ane to live canty, &c.