Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Bide ye yet

Bide Ye yet.

Gin I had a wee house and a canty wee fire,A bonnie wee wifie to praise and admire,A bonnie wee yardie beside a wee burn,Fareweel to the bodies that yammar and mourn.   Sae bide ye yet, and bide ye yet,   Ye little ken what will betide me yet,   Some bonnie wee body mar be my lot.   And I'll aye be canty wi' thinkin' o't.

When I gang afield and come hame at e'en,I'll get my wee wifie fu' neat and in' clean;And a bonnie wee bairnie upon her knee,That will cry papa or daddy to me.         Sae bide ye yet, &c.

I carena a button for sackfu's o' cash,Let wizened auld bachelors think o' sic trash;Gie me my wee wifie upon my knee,A kiss o' her mon' is worth thousands to me.         Sae bide ye yet, &c.

And if there should happen ever to beA difference atween my wifie an' me,In hearty good humour, although she be teased,I'll kiss her and clap her until she be pleased.         Sae bide ye yet, &c.