Page:Posthumous poems (IA posthumousswinb00swin).pdf/50

O gin ye come like a land robber,
 Full soon shall ye hang;
But gin ye come like a woman's lover,
 Full sweetly ye shall gang.

O it was never for no hate,
 For lord's love nor for fee:
But a' the weird that is me on
 It was a' for your body.

Gin ye set nae scorn by me, Randal,
 To dree a weird and a pain,
It's no Lord Scales my auld husband
 That shall depart us twain.

Gin this be sooth of you, Randal,
 That ye have good will to play;
It's no Lord Scales my auld husband
 Shall be better of us twey.

For I hae reapers to the land,
 And sailors to the sea;
And I hae maidens to my bower
 That wait by three and three;
And it's no Lord Scales my auld husband
 Shall part my will and me.

The first draw rapes upon the ship
 Between the sea and the sea sand;
The neist they lie in the lang corn,
 Wi' the reaphooks to their hand;

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