The Book of Scottish Song/The Carle

The Carle.

[From Ramsay's Tea-Table Miscellany. There is an older version of the same song given in Thomson's Orpheus Caledonius, published in 1725.]

The carle he cam' ower the craft,
⁠Wi' his beard new-shaven;
He looked at me as he'd been daft,—
⁠The carle trowed that I wad ha'e him.
Hout awa'! I winna ha'e him!
⁠Na, forsooth, I winna ha'e him!
For a' his beard new-shaven,
⁠Ne'er a bit o' me will ha'e him.

A siller brooch he ga'e me neist,
⁠To fasten on my curchie nookit.
I wore 't a wee upon my breist,
⁠But soon, alake! the tongue o't crookit;
And sae may his; I winna ha'e him!
⁠Na, forsooth, I winna ha'e him!
Twice-a-bairn's a lassie's jest;
⁠Sae ony fool for me may ha'e him.

The carle has nae fault but ane;
⁠For he has land and dollars plenty;
But, waes me for him, skin and bane
⁠Is no for a plump lass of twenty.
Hout awa', I winna ha'e him!
⁠Na, forsooth, I winna ha'e him!
What signifies his dirty riggs,
⁠And cash, without a man wi' them?

But should my cankert daddie gar
⁠Me tak' him 'gainst my inclination,
I warm the fumbler to beware
⁠That antlers dinna claim their station.
Hout awa'! I winna ha'e him!
⁠Na, forsooth, I winna ha'e him!
I'm fleyed to crack the holy band,
⁠Sae lawty says, I should na hae him.

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