The Merry Muses of Caledonia/Andrew and his Cutty Gun
ANDREW AND HIS CUTTY GUN.
| An old song which Burns describes as "the work of a master." Burns's purified version is well known. An amended version will be found in Herd's collection (1776). |
Blythe, blythe, blythe was she,
Blythe was she but and ben,
And weel she loved it in her neeve,
But better when it slippit in.
Blythe. blythe, &c.
When a' the lave gaed to their bed,
And I sat up to clean the shoon,
O wha think ye came jumpin' ben,
But Andrew and his cutty gun.
Blythe. blythe, &c.
Or e'er I wist he laid me back,
And up my gamon to my chin,
And ne'er a word to me he spak,
But liltit out his cutty gun.
Blythe. blythe, &c.
The bawsent bitch she left her whelps,
And hunted round us at the fun,
As Andrew dougled wi' his doup,
And fired at me his cutty gun.
Blythe. blythe, &c.
O some delight in cutty-stoup,
And some delight in cutty-mum,
But my delight's an arselins coup,
Wi' Andrew and his cutty gun.
Blythe. blythe, &c.