Robert Burns (Роберт Бернс)

I’m Owre Young to Marry Yet

I AM my mammie’s ae bairn,
  Wi’ unco folk I weary, Sir;
And lying in a man’s bed,
  I’m fley’d wad mak me eerie, Sir.

    I’m owre young, I’m owre young,
      I’m owre young to marry yet;
    I’m owre young, ‘twad be a sin
      To tak me frae my mammie yet.

My mammie coft me a new gown,
  The kirk maun hae the gracing o’t;
Were I to lie wi’ you, kind Sir,
  I’m fear’d ye’d spoil the lacing o’t.

Hallowmas is come and gane,
  The nights are lang in winter, Sir;
And you an’ I in ae bed,
  In troth I dare na venture, Sir.

Fu’ loud and shrill the frosty wind
  Blaws thro’ the leafless timmer, Sir;
But if ye come this gate again,
  I’ll aulder be gin simmer, Sir.

1. Canst Thou Leave Me Thus?
2. As Down the Burn They Took Their Way
3. Stay My Charmer
4. Epistle to John Lapraix, An Old Scottish Bard
5. How Lang and Dreary

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 2725

Последние стихотворения

To English version