The Book of Scottish Song/The Lass o' Gowrie
The Lass o’ Gowrie.
[Modern Version.]
Upon a simmer afternoon,
A wee before the sun gade down,
My lassie, in a braw new gown,
Cam' o'er the hills to Gowrie.
The rose-bud, ting'd with morning show'r,
Blooms fresh within the sunny bow'r,
But Katie was the fairest flower
That ever bloom'd in Gowrie.
Nae thought had I to do her wrang,
But round her waist my arms I flang,
And said, My dearie, will ye gang,
To see the Carse o' Gowrie?
I'll tak' ye to my father's ha',
In yon green fields beside the shaw;
I'll mak' you lady o' them a',
The brawest wife in Gowrie.
A silken gown o' siller gray,
My mither coft last new-year's day,
And buskit me frae tap to tae,
To keep me out o' Gowrie.
Daft Will, short syne, cam' courting Nell,
And wan the lass, but what befel,
Or whare she's gane, she kens hersel',
She staid na lang in Gowrie.
Sic thoughts, dear Katie, ill combine
Wi' beauty rare, and wit like thine;
Except yoursel', my bonnie quean,
I care for nought in Gowrie.
Since first I saw you in the sheal,
To you my heart's been true and leal;
The darkest night I fear nae de'il,
Warlock, or witch, in Gowrie.
Saft kisses on her lips I laid,
The blush upon her cheeks soon spread
She whisper'd modestly, and said,
O Pate, I'll stay in Gowrie!
The auld folks soon ga'e their consent,
Syne for Mess John they quickly sent,
Wha ty'd them to their heart's content,
And now she's Lady Gowrie.