The Book of Scottish Song/A lassie cam' to our gate
A lassie cam' to our gate.
[The author of this song, and of several others which we shall have occasion to quote in the course of this work, was Robert Allan of Kilbarchan, in Renfrewshire. He was intimate with Tannahill and R. A. Smith, and wrote a number of pieces for the latter's "Scottish Minstrel" and other musical publications, some of which have become popular. He also published a collection of his poems at Glasgow in 1836. After spending a lengthened and much respected life in his native village, (his employment being that of a weaver and manufacturer's agent,) he was induced to emigrate to the United States of America, where some of his relations had established themselves. Accordingly, he sailed from Greenock, for New York, on the 28th April, 1841, but had not long landed in America when he was carried off by a bilious fever, under which he had been labouring during the latter portion of the passage. His death took place on the 7th June, 1841, exactly eight days after his arrival in New York. His funeral was attended by a number of his countrymen and of Americans. At the time of his death his age was about 67.]
A lassie cam' to our gate, yestreen,
An' low she curtsied down;
She was lovelier far an' fairer to see
Than a' our ladies roun'.
O whare do ye wend, my sweet winsome doo?
An' whare may your dwelling be?
But her heart, I trow, was liken to break,
An' the tear-drap dim'd her e'e.
I ha'ena a hame, quo' the bonnie lassie—
I ha'ena a hame nor ha',
Fain here wad I rest my weary feet,
For the night begins to fa'.
I took her into our tapestry ha',
An' we drank the ruddy wine:
An' aye I strave, but fand my heart
Fast bound wi' love's silken twine.
I ween'd she might be the fairies' queen,
She was sae jimp and sma';
And the tear that dim'd her bonnie blue e'e
Fell owre twa heaps o' snaw.
O whare do ye wend, my sweet winsome doo?
An' whare may your dwelling be?
Can the winter's rain an' the winter's wind
Blaw cauld on sic as ye?
I ha'ena a hame, quo' the bonnie lassie—
I ha'ena a ha' nor hame;
My father was ane o' "Charlie's" men,
An' him I daurna name.
Whate'er be your kith, whate'er be your kin,
Frae this ye mauna gae;
An' gin ye'll consent to be my ain,
Nae marrow ye shall ha'e.
Sweet maiden, tak' the siller cup,
Sae fu' o' the damask wine,
An' press it to your cherrie lip,
For ye shall aye be mine.
An' drink, sweet doo, young Charlie's health,
An' a' your kin sae dear,
Culloden has dim'd mony an e'e
Wi' mony a saut, saut tear.