Text divider from 'The Whistling Daughter', a chapbook printed in Glasgow in 1802
THE WHISTLING DAUGHTER.
Omammy, mammy, I long to be a bride,To have a lusty young man to ly by my side; For it is well known, I am a woman grown,And 'tis a pity one so pretty as I should ly alone.
O daughter I was fifteen before that I was wed,And I was ne'er tired of my sweet maidenhead.O mammy that may be, but 'tis not so with me,I’m young and airy, almost weary, I can't ly alone.
O daughter, daughter, I'll pull your courage down, And with hard labour pull off your sack & gown,And send you each day to the fields a making hay,O daughter, loving daughter, then perhaps you may.
I pray don't send me to the fields, for young menAre tempting, I perhaps may yield to the thingI would not do, nor dare not for to name,But tell me, loving mother, what can young men mean.
Whistle, daughter, whistle, & you shall have a sheep,I cannot whistle, mother, nor neither can I sleep,My maidenhead, I swear, it fills my heart with care,'Tis a burden, heavy burden, more than I can bear.
Whistle, daughter, whistle, & you shall have a cow I cannot whistle, mother, neither will I now,My maidenhead, I swear, it fills my heart with care,'Tis a burden, heavy burden, more than I can bear.
Whistle, daughter, whistle, and you shall have a man,Tol de rol dary, don't you hear I can,Silence, hussey what makes you whistle now?'Cause mam, l love a man better than sheep or cow.
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