5
When I mount the creepie chair,
Wha will sit beside me there?
Gie me Rob, I seek nae mair,
The rantin dog the daddie o’t.—
Wha will crack to me my lane?
Wha will make me fidgin fain?
Wha will kiss me o’er again?
The rantin dog the daddie o’t.—
GILDEROY.
Gilderoy was a bonny boy,
Had roses till his shoon;
His stockings were of silken soy,
Wi’ garters hanging doun.
It was, I ween, a comlie sight
To see so trim a boy:
He was my joy and heart’s delight.
My handsome Gilderoy.
O sic twa charming een he had!
Breath sweet as ony rose:
He never ware a highland plaid,
But costly silken clothes.
He gain’d the love of ladies gay,
Nane e’er to him was coy:
Ah, wae is me, I mourn the day
For my dear Gilderoy.
My Gilderoy and I were born
Baith in ae toun together:
