The Book of Scottish Song/Deil tak' the wars

Deil tak' the wars.

[The fine old Scotch air that goes by this name will be found in Playford's collection of Scotch tunes published in 1693. The words are supposed to be by Tom D'Urfey. They appear in the first edition of his "Pills to Purge Melancholy".]

Deil tak' the wars that hurried Billy from me,
⁠Who to love me just had sworn;
They made him captain sure to undo me:
⁠Woe's me he'll ne'er return.
A thousand loons abroad will fight him,
⁠He from thousands ne'er will run,
Day and night I did invite him,
⁠To stay at home from sword and gun.
⁠I us'd alluring graces,
⁠With muckle kind embraces,
Now sighing, then crying, tears dropping fall;
⁠And had he my soft arms
⁠Preferr'd to war's alarms,
My love grown mad, all for my bonnie lad,
I fear in my fit I had granted all.

I wash'd and I patch'd, to mak' me look provoking,
⁠Snares that they told me would catch the men,
And on my head a huge commode sat poking,
⁠Which made me show as tall again;
For a new gown too I paid muckle money,
⁠Which with golden flow'rs did shine;
My love well might think me gay and bonny,
⁠No Scots lass was e'er so fine.
⁠My petticoat I spotted,
⁠Fringe too with thread I knotted,
Lace shoes, and silk hose, garter full over knee;
⁠But oh! the fatal thought,
⁠To Billy these are nought;
Who rode to town, and rifled with dragoons,
When he, silly loon, might have plunder'd me.

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