THE pawky auld carle came o’er the lee,
Wi’ many good e’ens and days to me,
Saying, goodwife, for your courtesie,
Will ye lodge a silly poor man?
The night was cauld, the carle was wat,
And down ayont the ingle he sat;
My daughter’s shoulders he ‘gan to clap,
And cadgily ranted and sang.
O wow! quo’ he, were I as free,
As first when I saw this country,
How blyth and merry wad I be?
And I wad never think lang.
He grew canty, and she grew fain;
But little did her auld minny ken
What thir slee twa togither were say’n,
When wooing they were sae thrang.
And O! quo’ he, ann ye were as black,
As e’er the crown of my dady’s hat,
‘Tis I wad lay thee by my back,
And awa’ wi’ me thou shou’d gang.
And O! quoth she, ann I were as white,
As e’er the snaw lay on the dike,
I’d clead me braw, and lady like,
And awa’ with thee I’d gang.
Between the twa was made a plot;
They raise a wee before the cock,
And wylily they shot the lock,
And fast to the bent are they gạne.
Up the morn the auld wife raise,
And at her leisure pat on her claise;
Syne to the servants bed she gaes,
To speer for thy silly poor man.
She gaed to the bed where the beggar lay,
The strae was cauld, he was away,
She clapt her hands, cry’d, waladay,
For some of our gear will be gane.
Some ran to coffers, and some to kists,
But nought was stown that cou’d be mist,
She danc’d her lane, cry’d, praise be blest,
I have lodg’d a leal poor man.
Since nathing’s awa’, as we can learn,
The kirn’s to kirn, and milk to earn,
Gae butt the house, lass, and waken my bairn,
And bid her come quickly ben.
The servant gade where the daughter lay,
The sheets was cauld, she was away,
And fast to her goodwife can say,
She’s aff with the gaberlunzie-man.
O fy gar ride, and fy gar rin,
And haste ye find these traitors again;
For she’s be burnt, and he’s be slain,
The wearifu’ gaberlunzie-man.
Some rade upo’ horse, some ran a fit,
The wife was wood, and out o’ her wit:
She cou’d na gang, nor yet cou’d she sit,
But ay she curs’d and she ban’d.
Mean time far hind out o’er the lee,
Fu’ snug in a glen, where nane cou’d see,
The twa, with kindly sport and glee,
Cut frae a new cheese a whang:
The priving was good, it pleas’d them baith,
To lo’e her for ay, he ga’e her his aith.
Quo’ she, to leave thee I will be laith,
My winsome gaberlunzie-man.
O kend my minny I were wi’ you,
Illfardly wad she crook her mou,
Sic a poor man she’d never trow,
After the gaberlunzie-man,
My dear, quo’ he, ye’re yet o’er young,
And ha’ na learn’d the beggars tongue,
To follow me frae town to town,
And carry the Gaberlunzie on.
Wi’ cauk and keel I’ll win your bread,
And spindles and whorles for them wha need,
Whilk is a gentle trade indeed,
To carry the gaberlunzie – O.
I’ll bow my leg, and crook my knee,
And draw a black clout o’er my eye,
A cripple or blind they will ca’ me,
While we shall be merry, and sing.
– New Words by Different Hands.