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I’d cheerfully wander o’er mountain an’ plain,—
Wad face our bauld faes by the land or the main,
Or toil wi' the slaves that are far o’er the sea,
Gin that bonnie lassie wad smile upo’ me!"
"Weel, weel, do I ken her:—it’s sweet Nancy Bean!
A lassie whase beauties are no easy seen—
For, like a fine beuk, or a picture sae rare,
The aft’ner you see her, ye’ll love her the mair.
But whate’er ye think o’ er ye never should tell,
An’ like a wise man keep your thochts to yersel’;
Nor trust to a frien’, tho’ he vow that he’s sae,
For nearest o’ kin aften proves the warst fae.
Just quietly gang doun i’ the gleamin’ sae gray,
An’ speak o’er the news ye ha’e heard thro’the day–
O’er weddin’s an’ births that ha’e been i’ the glen:
An’ if you’re made welcome—let naebody ken!
Smile aye as ye crack o’er the jokes that you tell,
But never ance speak o’ your neebours or sel’;
An’ mak your tales short, an’as queer as you may—
Ye’ll aiblins be lucky—there’s nae ane can say!
I’ve ken’d Nancy lang, an’ her mither an’ a’,
On whom, could she help it, the blast wadna blaw;
She toils late an’ early to comfort her days—
To humour her freaks, an’ her auld-fashion’d ways.
On Sabbaths, I’m sure, ’twad delight you to see
How kindly an’ slowly they wind o’er the lea,
Amang the wild brakens, an’ down by the Dean
Where stands the auld kirk i’ the meadow sae green—
