Robert Burns

The Lass That Made the Bed to Me

WHEN Januar’ wind was blawing cauld,
  As to the north I took my way,
The mirksome night did me enfauld,
  I knew na where to lodge till day.

By my good luck a maid I met,
  Just in the middle o’ my care;
And kindly she did me invite
  To walk into a chamber fair.

I bow’d fu’ low unto this maid,
  And thank’d her for her courtesie;
I bow’d fu’ low unto this maid,
  And bade her mak a bed to me.

She made the bed baith large and wide,
  Wi’ twa white hands she spread it down;
She put the cup to her rosy lips,
  And drank, ‘Young man, now sleep ye soun.’

She snatch’d the candle in her hand,
  And frae my chamber went wi’ speed;
But I call’d her quickly back again
  To lay some mair below my head.

A cod she laid below my head,
  And served me wi’ due respect;
And to salute her wi’ a kiss,
  I put my arms about her neck.

‘Haud aff your hands, young man,’ she says,
  ‘And dinna sae uncivil be:
If ye hae ony love for me,
  O wrang na my virginitie!’

Her hair was like the links o’ gowd,
  Her teeth were like the ivorie;
Her cheeks like lilies dipt in wine,
  The lass that made the bed to me.

Her bosom was the driven snaw,
  Twa drifted heaps sae fair to see;
Her limbs the polish’d marble stane,
  The lass that made the bed to me.

I kiss’d her owre and owre again,
  And aye she wist na what to say;
I laid her between me and the wa’,-
  The lassie thought na lang till day.

Upon the morrow when we rose,
  I thank’d her for her courtesie;
But aye she blush’d, and aye she sigh’d
  And said ‘Alas! ye’ve ruin’d me.’

I clasp’d her waist, and kiss’d her syne,
  While the tear stood twinkling in her ee,
I said ‘My lassie, dinna cry,
  For ye aye shall make the bed to me.’

She took her mither’s Holland sheets,
  And made them a’ in sarks to me:
Blythe and merry may she be,
  The lass that made the bed to me.

The bonnie lass made the bed to me,
  The braw lass made the bed to me:
I’ll ne’er forget till the day I die,
  The lass that made the bed to me!