He will win a shilling,
Or he spend a groat:
Dusty was the coat,
Dusty was the colour,
Dusty was the kiss
That I gat frae the Miller.
Hey, the dusty Miller,
And his dusty sack;
Leeze me on the calling
Fills the dusty peck:
Fills the dusty peck,
Brings the dusty siller;
I wad gie my coatie
For the dusty Miller.
Similar Posts
O SAW ye bonnie Lesley
She ‘s gane, like Alexander,To spread her conquests farther.To see her is to love her,And love but her for ever;For Nature made her what she is,And ne’er made sic anither!Thou art a queen, fair Lesley,Thy subjects we, before thee:Thou art divine, fair Lesley,The hearts o’ men adore thee.The Deil he couldna scaith thee,Or aught that…
IN se’enteen hunder’n forty-nine,
An’ coost it in a corner;But wilily he chang’d his plan,An’ shap’d it something like a man,An’ ca’d it Andrew Turner.
A’ THE lads o’ Thorniebank,
They’ll step in an’ tak a pintWi’ Lady Onlie, honest Lucky.Chorus.—Lady Onlie, honest Lucky,Brews gude ale at shore o’ Bucky;I wish her sale for her gude ale,The best on a’ the shore o’ Bucky.Her house sae bien, her curch sae cleanI wat she is a daintie chuckie;And cheery blinks the ingle-gleedO’ Lady Onlie, honest Lucky!Lady…
Upon a simmer Sunday morn,
I walked forth to view the cornAn’ snuff the caller air.The risin’ sun owre Galston muirsWi’ glorious light was glintin,The hares were hirplin down the furrs,The lav’rocks they were chantinFu’ sweet that day.As lightsomely I glowr’d abroadTo see a scene sae gay,Three hizzies, early at the road,Cam skelpin up the way.Twa had manteeles o’ dolefu’…
If ye gae up to yon hill-tap,
She kens her father is a laird,And she forsooth’s a leddy.There Sophy tight, a lassie bright,Besides a handsome fortune:Wha canna win her in a night,Has little art in courtin’.Gae down by Faile, and taste the ale,And tak a look o’ Mysie;She’s dour and din, a deil within,But aiblins she may please ye.If she be shy,…
The winter it is past, and the summer comes at last
Now ev’ry thing is glad, while I am very sad,Since my true love is parted from me.The rose upon the breer, by the waters running clear,May have charms for the linnet or the bee;Their little loves are blest, and their little hearts at rest,But my true love is parted from me.