Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Jamie o' the Glen

Jamie O' The Glen.

Auld Rob, the laird o' muckle land, To woo me was na very blate,But spite o' a' his gear he fand He came to woo a day owre late.   A lad sae blythe, sae fu' o' glee,    My heart did never ken,   And nane can gie sic oy to me    As Jamie o' the glen.

My minnie grat like daft, and raired, To gar me wi' her will comply,But still I wadna' hae the laird, Wi' a' his ousen, sheep, and kye.   A lad sae blythe, &c.

Ah, what are silks and satins braw? What's a' his warldly gear to me?They're daft that cast themselves awa' Where nae content or love can be.   A lad sae blythe, &c.

I couldna bide the silly clash Came hourly frae the gawky laird!And sae, to stop his gab and fash, Wi' Jamie to the kirk repaired.   A lad sae blythe, &c.

Now ilka summer's day sae lang, And winter's clad wi' frost and snaw,A tunefn' lilt and bonnie sang, Aye keep dull care and strife awa'.   A lad sae blythe, &c.