Poems & songs . el, Or whether twas a bauk-en,Or whether it was Andrew Bell,She didna wait on talkin To spier that night. Wee Jenny to her grannie says, Will ye go wi me, grannie 1Ill eat the apple at the glass,1I gat frae Uncle Johnnie : She fufft her pipe wi sic a lunt,In wrath she was sae vaprin,She notict na an aizle bruntHer braw new worset apron Out thro that night. Ye little skelpie-limmers face !How daur you try sic sportin,As seek the foul thief ony place,For him to spae your fortune ]Nae doubt but ye may get a sight ! Great cause ye hae to fear it;For mony a ane has gotten a fright,A
Poems & songs . el, Or whether twas a bauk-en,Or whether it was Andrew Bell,She didna wait on talkin To spier that night. Wee Jenny to her grannie says, Will ye go wi me, grannie 1Ill eat the apple at the glass,1I gat frae Uncle Johnnie : She fufft her pipe wi sic a lunt,In wrath she was sae vaprin,She notict na an aizle bruntHer braw new worset apron Out thro that night. Ye little skelpie-limmers face !How daur you try sic sportin,As seek the foul thief ony place,For him to spae your fortune ]Nae doubt but ye may get a sight ! Great cause ye hae to fear it;For mony a ane has gotten a fright,An livd an did deleerit On sic a night. Ae hairst afore the Sherramoor,—I mindt as weels yestreen,I was a gilpey then, Im sure I wasna past fyfteen ;The simmer had been cauld an wat, An stuff was unco green ;An aye a rantin kirn we gat,An just on Halloween It fell that night. So POEMS BY ROBERT BURNS. Our stibble-rig was Rab MGraen,A clever, sturdy fallow :Hes sin gat Eppie Sim wi wean,That livd in Achmacalla :. He gat hemp-seed, * I mind it weel,An he made unco light ot; But mony a day was by himsel,He was sae sairly frighted That very night. HALLOWEEN. Then up gat fechtin Jamie Fleck, An he swoor by his conscience,That he could saw hemp-seed a peck; For it was a but auld guidman raught down the pock, An out a handfu gied him ;Syne bad him slip frae mang the folk, Some time when nae ane seed him,An tryt that night. He marches thro amang the stacks, Tho he was something sturtin;The graip he for a harrow taks, An haurls at his curpin ;An evry now an then he says, Hemp seed, I saw thee,An her that is to be my lass,Come after me, an draw thee As fast this night. He whistled up Lord Lennox march, To keep his courage cheerie;Altho his hair began to arch, He was sae fieyd an eerie;Till presently he hears a squeak, An then a grane an gruntle ;He by his shouther gae a keek, An tumbld wi a wintle Out-owre that night. He roard a horrid murder-shout, In dreadfu desperation !
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Keywords: ., bookauthorburnsrob, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookyear1875
