Book-bot.com - read famous books online for free

Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume XXIV. by Revised by Alexander Leighton
page 166 of 406 (40%)
And aye some prickles on ilka rose.

Young lasses I think are something like fillies
Let out in a field to idle and eat,
To graze by the gowans and drink by the willows,
And never to dream of a bridle _a bit_.

It's no what ye eat, it's no what you drink, dears,
It's no your bonnets, or ribbons, or skirts,
The trinkets ye wear, or the siller ye clink, dears--
There's something, I wean, far nearer your hearts.

Your thoughts are mair of him you will marry,
What the colour may be of his hair,
Whether aye cheery, or sometimes chary,
What his complexion, or dark or fair.

But men they are gude, and men they are ill, dears,
You may get the leal or the lazy loon;
A lover is aft like a gilded pill, dears,
The bitter comes after it's gulpèd doon.

I fear ye hae little of power to choose him,
The husband is settled for you abune;
But you've power in holy bands to noose him
_Before ye let him tak' aff his shune_.

For a maid who is silly and stoops to folly,
And finds ower late that she is betrayed,
I ken nae cure for her melancholy
DigitalOcean Referral Badge