Cats like milk,
And dogs like broo,
Lads like lasses weel,
And lasses lads too.
We're a' noddin' &c.
II.
[Verses furnished by Allan Cunningham to Thomson's Select Melodies of Scotland.]
Our gudewife's awa',
Now's the time to woo
For the lads like lasses,
And the lasses lads too.
The moon's beaming bright,
And the gowan 's in dew,
And my love 's by my side,
And we're a' happy now.
And we're a' noddin',
Nid, nid noddin',
And we're a' noddin',
At our house at hame.
I have wale of loves,—
Nannie rich and fair,
Bessie brown and bonnie,
And Kate wi' curling hair;
And Bell young and proud,
Wi' gold aboon her brow,
But my Jean has twa e'en
That glow'r me through and through.
And we're a' noddin', &c.
Sair she slights the lads,
Three lie like to dee,
Four in sorrow listed,
And five flew to the sea.
Nigh her chamber door
A' night they watch in dool,
Ae kind word frae my love
Would charm frae yule to yule.
And we're a' noddin', &c.
Our gudewife 's come hame,
Now mute maun I woo;
My true love's bright glances
Shine a' the chamber through;
O, sweet is her voice,
When she sings at her wark,
Sweet the touch of her hand,
And her vows in the dark.
And we're a' noddin', &c.
III.
[Verses to the same air—author unknown. The tune admits of considerable latitude as to the measure of the line.]
Gude'en to ye, kimmer,
And are ye alane?
O, come and see how blythe are we,
For Jamie he's cam' hame,
And O, but he's been lang awa',
And O, my heart was sair
As I sobbed out a lang fareweel—
Maybe to meet nae mair.
Noo we're a' noddin', &c.
O, sair ha'e I fought,
Ear' and late did I toil,
My bairnies for to feed and cleed—
My comfort was their smile;
When I thocht on Jamie far awa',
An' o' his love sae fain,
A bodin' thrill cam' through my heart
We'd maybe meet again.
Noo we're a' noddin', &c.
When he knocket at the door,
I thocht I kent the rap,
And little Katie cried,
"My daddie he's cam' back,"
A stoun gaed through my anxious breast
As thochtfully I sat,
I raise, I gazed, fell in his arms,
And bursted out and grat.
Noo we're a' noddin', &c.
Tibbie Dunbar.
[Written by Burns, in 1789, for Johnson's Museum, to a tune called Johnnie M'Gill, from the name of its composer, John M'Gill, musician, Girvan, Ayrshire. According to other accounts, the tune is said to be Irish.]
O, wilt thou go wi' me,
Sweet Tibbie Dunbar
O, wilt thou go wi' me,
Sweet Tibbie Dunbar?
Wilt thou ride on a horse,
Or be drawn in a car,
Or walk by my side,
O sweet Tibbie Dunbar?
