Page:Merry Muses of Caledonia.djvu/89

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( 83 )

ANDREW AND HIS CUTTY GUN.

An old song which Burns describes as "the work of a master." Burns's purified version is well known. An amended version will be found in Herd's collection (1776).

Blythe, blythe, blythe was she,
 Blythe was she but and ben,
And weel she loved it in her neeve,
 But better when it slippit in.

Blythe. blythe, &c.


When a' the lave gaed to their bed,
 And I sat up to clean the shoon,
O wha think ye came jumpin' ben,
 But Andrew and his cutty gun.

Blythe. blythe, &c.


Or e'er I wist he laid me back,
 And up my gamon to my chin,
And ne'er a word to me he spak,
 But liltit out his cutty gun.

Blythe. blythe, &c.


The bawsent bitch she left her whelps,
 And hunted round us at the fun,
As Andrew dougled wi' his doup,
 And fired at me his cutty gun.

Blythe. blythe, &c.


O some delight in cutty-stoup,
 And some delight in cutty-mum,
But my delight's an arselins coup,
 Wi' Andrew and his cutty gun.

Blythe. blythe, &c.