Anonymous


Ettrick Banks



[This favourite old song is of unknown antiquity and authorship. It appears in the Tea Table Miscellany, (1724—1733) but belongs to an earlier period than that. The Ettrick is a river in Selkirkshire, but, from the allusions of the song, the lover of the nymph seems to have resided on the banks of Loch Erne in Perthshire.]

On Ettrick banks, ae simmer's night,
     ⁠At gloamin', when the sheep drave hame,
I met my lassie, braw and tight,
     ⁠Come wading barefoot a' her lane.
My heart grew light;—I ran,—I flang
⁠     My arms about her lily neck,
And kiss'd and clapp'd her there fu' lang,
     ⁠My words they were na monie feck.

I said, My lassie, will ye gang
     ⁠To the Highland hills, the Erse to learn?
I'll gi'e thee baith a cow and ewe,
     ⁠When ye come to the brig o' Earn:
At Leith auld meal comes in, neer fash,
⁠     And herrings at the Broomielaw;
Cheer up your heart, my bonnie lass,
     ⁠There's gear to win ye never saw.

A' day when we ha'e wrought eneugh,
     ⁠When winter frosts and snaw begin
Soon as the sun gaes west the loch,
     ⁠At night when ye sit down to spin,
I'll screw my pipes, and play a spring:
⁠     And thus the weary night will end,
Till the tender kid and lamb-time bring
⁠     Our pleasant simmer back again.

Syne, when the trees are in their bloom,
⁠     And gowans glent o'er ilka fiel',
I'll meet my lass amang the broom,
     ⁠And lead you to my simmer shiel.
Then, far frae a' their scomfu' din,
⁠     That mak' the kindly heart their sport,
We'll laugh, and kiss, and dance, and sing,
     ⁠And gar the langest day seem short.






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