Poem by Robert Burns

* * *

THERE’S news, lasses, news,
  Gude news I’ve to tell!
There’s a boat fu’ o’ lads
  Come to our town to sell.
    The wean wants a cradle,
      An’ the cradle wants a cod.
    An’ I’ll no gang to my bed
      Until I get a nod.

Father, quo’ she, Mither, quo’ she,
  Do what ye can,
I’ll no gang to my bed
  Till I get a man.
    I hae as gude a craft rig
      As made o’ yird and stane;
    And waly fa’ the ley-crap
      For I maun till’d again.

1. Their Groves O’ sweet Myrtle
2. The Bonnie Wee Thing
3. As Down the Burn They Took Their Way
4. Stay My Charmer
5. The Humble Petition of Bruar Water

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