But them despise who're soon defeat,
And with a simple face give way
To a repulse; then, be not blate,
Push bauldly on and win the day.
These maidens, innocently young,
Say aften what they never mean;
Ne'er mind their pretty lying tongue,
But tent the language of their een;
If these agree, and she persist
To answer all your love with hate,
Seek elsewhere to be better blest,
And let her sigh when 'tis too late.
O, as I was kist.
[This fragment is given in Herd's collection, but is of older date. In Johnson's Museum, it is said to have been composed on an amour of John Duke of Argyle. This John was Jeanie Deans's duke; and as he is said to have been the author of the song beginning "Argyle is my name," probably he wrote this ditty also. From the line in the last verse,
"Up the Gallowgate, down the Green,"
one might suppose the scene of the song to belong to Glasgow, but their are other localities (Aberdeen for example,) which can boast of "Gallowgates" and "Greens." The tune, "O, as I was kist yestreen," was originally called "Lumps o' Pudding," which name was transferred to another old air, adopted by Gay for the finale in his "Beggar's Opera," "Thus I stand like a Turk," &c. It is well known that one object Gay had in "The Beggar's Opera" was to supplant the Italian opera, by the introduction of good old English and Scottish tunes. An Italian speaking of this, said, with great indignation and scorn, "Saire, this dam Signor Gay try to pelt my countrymen out of England with 'Lumps of Pudding.'"]
O, as I was kist yestreen!
O, as I was kist yestreen!
I'll never forget till the day that I dee,
Sae mony braw kisses his grace ga'e me!
My father was sleeping, my mother was out,
And I was my lane, and in cam' the duke:
I'll never forget till the day that I dee,
Sae mony braw kisses his grace ga'e me.
Kist yestreen, kist yestreen,
Up the Gallowgate, down the Green:
I'll never forget till the day that I dee,
Sae mony braw kisses his grace ga'e me.
The Lasses a’ leugh.
[Air, "Kist yestreen."—The first stanza of this song was a fragment which Tannahill left: the rest was added by Alex. Rodger.]
The lasses a' leugh, and the carlin flate,
But Maggie was sitting fu' ourie and blate,
The auld silly gawkie, she couldna contain,
How brawly she was kist yestreen;
Kist yestreen, kist yestreen,
How brawly she was kist yestreen;
She blethered it round to her fae an' her freen,
How brawly she was kist yestreen.
She loosed the white napkin frae 'bout her dun neck,
An' cried, The big sorrow tak' lang Geordie Fleck!
D'ye see what a scart I gat frae a preen,
By his towsling an' kissing at me yestreen;
At me yestreen, at me yestreen.
By his towsling an' kissing at me yestreen;
I canna conceive what the fallow could mean,
By his kissing sae meikle at me yestreen.
Then she pu'd up her sleeve an' shawed a blae mark,
Quo' she, I gat that frae young Davy our clark,
But the creature had surely forgat himsel' clean,
Then he nipt me sae hard for a kiss yestreen,
For a kiss yestreen, for a kiss yestreen,
When he nipt me sae hard for a kiss yestreen;
I wonder what keepit my nails frae his een,
When he nipt me sae hard for a kiss yestreen.
Then she held up her cheek, an' cried. Foul fa' the laird,
Just leuk what I gat wi' his black birsie beard,
The vile filthy body! was e'er the like seen?
To rub me sae sair for a kiss yestreen;
For a kiss yestreen, for a kiss yestreen;
To rub me sae sair for a kiss yestreen,
I'm sure that nae woman o' judgment need green
To be rubbit, like me, for a kiss yestreen.
