The Book of Scottish Song/Janet and Me

Janet and Me.

[Robert Gilfillan.]

O, wha are sae happy as me and my Janet?
O, wha are sae happy as Janet and me
We're baith turning auld, and our walth is soon tauld,
But contentment ye'll find in our cottage sae wee.
She spins the lang day when I'm out wi' the owsen,
She croons i' the house while I sing at the plough;
And aye her blythe smile welcomes me frae my toil,
As up the lang glen I come wearied, I trow!

When I'm at a beuk she is mending the cleading,
She's darning the stockings when I sole the shoon;
Our cracks keep us cheery—we work till we're weary;
And syne we sup sowans when ance we are done.
She's baking a scone while I'm smoking my cutty,
While I'm in the stable she's milking the kye;
I envy not kings when the gloaming time brings
The canty fireside to my Janet and I!

Aboon our auld heads we've a decent clay bigging,
That keeps out the cauld when the simmers awa';
We've twa wabs o' linen, o' Janet's ain spinning,
As thick as dog-lugs, and as white as the snaw!
We've a kebbuck or twa, and some meal i' the gimel;
Yon sow is our ain that plays grunt at the door;
An' something, I've guess'd, 'sin yon auld painted kist,
That Janet, fell bodie, 's laid up to the fore!

Nae doubt, we have haen our ain sorrows and troubles,
Aften times pouches toom, and hearts fu' o' care;
But still, wi' our crosses, our sorrows and losses,
Contentment, be thankit, has aye been our share;
I've an auld rusty sword, that was left by my father,
Whilk ne'er shall be drawn till our king has a fae;
We ha'e friends ane or twa, that aft gi'e us a ca',
To laugh when we're happy, or grieve when we're wae.

The laird may ha'e gowd mair than schoolmen can reckon,
An' flunkies to watch ilka glance o' his e'e;
His lady, aye braw, may sit in her ha',
But are they mair happy than Janet and me?
A' ye wha ne'er kent the straight road to be happy,
Wha are nae content wi' the lot that ye dree,
Come down to the dwellin' of whilk I've been telling,
Ye'se learn it by looking at Janet an' me!

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