OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Tak your auld cloak about ye (3)/Hey For a Lass Wi' a Tocher

HEY FOR A LASS WI‘ A TOCHER
AWA wi‘ your witchcraft o‘ beasty's alarms, The slender bit beauty yon grasp in your arms: O, gie me the lass that has acres o‘ charms, O, gie me the lass wi‘ the weel stockit farms.
Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher; Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher; Then hey for a lass wi' a'tocher, The nice yellow guineas for me.
Your beauty's a flower, in the morning that blows, and withers the faster, the faster it grows; But the rapturous charm o‘ the bonie green knowe, Ilk spring they're new deckit wi‘ bonie white yewes, Then hey, &c.
And e'en when this beauty your bosom has blest, The brightest o' beauty may cloy, when possest, But the sweet yellow dailings wi' Geordie imprest, The longer ye hae them, the mair they're carest. Then hey,&c.
# Seven Select Songs/Hey for a lass wi' a tocher

HEY FOR A LASS WI' A TOCHER.
# Neil Gow's Fareweel (1821, Glasgow)/Hey for a Lass Wi' a Tocher

HEY FOR A LASS WI’ A TOCHER.
# Tak your auld cloak about ye (3)

Tak your auld Cloak about ye;
To which are added,
The Bonny Brucked Lassie,
Donald's visit to auld Reekie,
When I meet wi' a Friend,
Hey for a Lass wi' a Tocher,
Sandy o'er the Lee,
Should I Die.
STIRLING
Printed for the Booksellers.
* Tak Your Auld Cloak About Ye
* The Bonny Brucket Lassie
* Donald's Visit to Auld Reekie
* When I Meet Wi' A Friend
* Hey For a Lass Wi' a Tocher
* Sandy O'er the Lee
* Should I Die
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Parting Moments

* "Parting moments", in Last May a braw wooer (1819), a chapbook printed in Edinburgh
* "Parting Moments", in A Most Choice Collection of Popular Songs, a chapbook printed in Edinburgh
# The Book of Scottish Song/Last May a braw Wooer

Last May a braw Wooer.
[Burns wrote his first version of this clever characteristic song in 1787, for the second volume of Johnson's Museum, but, through some means or other, it was not inserted there. In 1795, he revised it, and sent it to Gteorge Thomson's collection, where it appeared, and speedily became popular. Johnson afterwards produced the original version of the song in the sixth volume of his Museum. There is not much difference between Johnson's and Thomson's version. We here follow the latter, with the exception of one line in last verse but one, where we keep by Johnson's reading. It is the line—
"And how my auld shoon fitted her shauchled feet,"
which Thomson reads thus—
"And how her new shoon fit her auld shauchled feet,"
But as "auld shoon" is a common phrase for a discarded lover who pays his addresses to another, the sarcasm, according to Johnson's reading, is the more biting. The song is sung to an old tune called "The Queen of the Lothians," to which there are also old words, beginning.
The Queen o' the Lothians cam' cruising to Fife, Fal de ral, lal de ral, lairo, To see gin a wooer wad tak her for life, Sing hey! fal lal de ral, lal de ral, lal de ral, Hey! fal lal de ral, lairo.
—But we need not quote any more of this.]
Last May a braw wooer cam' down the lang glen, And sair wi' his love he did deave me; I said there was naething I hated like men; The deuce gae wi' him to believe me, believe me, The deuce gae wi' him to believe me!
He spak' o' the darts o' my bonnie black e'en, And vow'd for my love he was deein', I said he micht dee when he liked for Jean; The guid forgi'e me for leein', for leein', The guid forgi'e me for leein!
A weel-stockit mailin', himsel' for the laird, And marriage aff-hand, were his proffer. I never loot on that I kenn'd it or cared; But thocht I micht ha'e a waur offer, waur offer, But thocht I micht ha'e a waur offer.
But what wad ye think, in a fortnicht or less— The deil's in his taste to gang near her!— He up the lang loan to my black cousin Bess— Guess ye how, the jaud! I could bear her, could bear her, Guess ye how, the jaud! I could bear her:
But a' the next week, as I fretted wi' care, I gaed to the tryst o' Dalgarnock; And wha but my braw fickle wooer was there? Wha glowr'd as he had seen a warlock, a warlock, Wha glowr'd as he had seen a warlock.
Out ower my left shouther I gi'ed him a blink, Lest neebors micht say I was saucy; My wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink, And vow'd I was his dear lassie, dear lassie, And vow'd I was his dear lassie.
I speir'd for my cousin, fu' couthie and sweet, Gin she had recover'd her hearin'? And how my auld shoon fitted her shauchled feet? Gude sauf us! how he fell a-swearin', a-swearin', Gude sauf us! how he fell a-swearin'.
He begged, for gudesake! I wad be his wife, Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrow; Sae, e'en to preserve the puir body in life, I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow, I think I maun wed him to-morrow.
# The Poetical Works of Robert Burns/Last May a Braw Wooer

LAST MAY A BRAW WOOER.
TUNE—'LOTHIAN LASSIE.'
# Neil Gow's Fareweel (1821, Glasgow)/The Braw Wooer

THE BRAW WOOER.
Tune— The Lothian Lassie.
Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen, And sair wi’ his love he did deave me; I said there was naething I hated like men, The deuce tak him to believe me, believe me, The deuce tak him to believe me.
He spak o‘ the daris o’ my bonnie black een. And vow’d for my love he was diein; I said he might die when he liket for Jean, The Lord forgie me for lien, for lien, The Lord forgie me for Iien!
A weel stockit mailen, himsel for the laird. And marriage aff hand was the proffer; I never loot on that I kent it, or car’d, But thought I might get a waur offer, waur effer, But thought I might get a waur offer.
But what do ye think? in a fortnight or less, (The deil’s in his taste to gang near her!) He up the lang loan to my black cousin Bess; Guess ye how, the jad ! I could bear her, could bear her, Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her.
Sae a’ the niest week as I fretted wi‘ care, I gade to the tryst o‘ Dalgarnock, And wha but my braw fickle wooer was there, I glowr’d as I’d seen a warlock, a warlock; I glowr’d as I’d seen a warlock
​But owre my left shouther I gied him a blink, Lest neibours might say I was saucy; My wooer he caper’d as he’d been in drink, And vow’d I was his dear lassie, dear lassie, And vow’d I was his dear lassie.
I spier’d for my cousin, fu’ cuthie and sweet, Gin she had recover’d her hearin. And how my auld shoon fitted her shachel’d feet, But, heavens! how he fell a swearin, a swearin, But, heavens! how he fell a swearin.
He begged, for Gudesake! I wad be his wife, Or else I wad kill him wi’ sorrow; So e’en to preserve the poor body in life, I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow, I think I maun wed him to-morrow.
finis.
# The Farmer/Last May a Braw Wooer

LAST MAY A BRAW WOOER.
Last May a braw wooer came down the rang glen And sair wi’ his love did he deava me; I said there was naething I hated like men, The deuce gae wi'm to believe me, to believe me The deuce gae wi’m to believe me.
He spoke o' the darts in my bonnie black e'en And vow'd for my love he was dying; I said he might die when he liked for Jean, The Lord forgie me for lying, for lying, The Lord forgie me for lying.
​A wee stocked mailen himsell for the laird And marriage aff hand were his proffers, I never loot on that I kend or I car’d, But thought I might get waur offers, waur offers But thought I might get waur offers.
But what wad you think? in a fortnight or less, The deil tak his taste to gae uear her! He up the lang Loan to my black cousin Bess, Guess ye how, the jade ! I could bear her, could bear her, Guess ye how the jade! I could bear her.
But a' the (illegible text)eist week as I fretted wi' care, I gaed to the tryst o' Dolgarnock, And wha but my fine fickle lover was there, I glowr’d as I'd seen a warlock, a warlock, I glowr’d as I'd seen a warlock.
But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink, Lest neebaurs might say I was saucy, My woner he caper’d as he’d bean in drink, And vow’d I was his dear lassie, dear lassie, And vow’d I was h s dear lassie.
I spier'd for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet, Gin she had recover’d her hearin' ​And how hot new shoon fit her auld shacheld feet, But heavens how he fell a swearin a swearin, But heavens how he fell a swearin.
He begged me for gudesake I wad be his wife, Or else I wad kill him wi’ sorrow: So e'en to preserve the poor pody in life I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow, I think I maun wed him to-morrow.
# Hills o' Gallowa/Last May a Braw Wooer

LAST MAY A BRAW WOOER.
Last May a braw wooer came down the lang glen, And sair wi' his love did he deave me;
He spake o' the darts in my bonny black e'en, And vow'd for my love he was dying? I said he might die when he liked for Jean, The Lord forgie me for lying, for lying, The Lord forgie me for lying.
A weel stocked mailen, himsel' for the laird, And marriage aff-hand were his proffers, I never loot on that I kend or I car'd, But thought I might hae waur offers, waur offert, But thought I might get waur offers.
But what wad you think? in a fortnight or less, The deil tak his taste to gae hear her! He up the lang loan to my black cousin Bess, Guess ye how, the jade! I could bear her could bear her, Guess ye how the jade! I could bear her.
But a' the neist week I fretted wi' care, I gaed to the tryst o' Delgarnock, And wha but my fine fickle lover was there, I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock, a warlock, I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock.
But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink, Lest neebours might say I was saucy,
My wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink, And vow'd I was his dear lassie dear lassie, And vow'd I was his dear lassie.
I spier'd for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet, Gin she had recover'd her hearin, And now her new shoon fit her auld shaeheld feet, But, heavens, how he fell a swearin, a swearin, But, heavens, how he fell a swearin.
He begged me for gudesake I wad be his wife, Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrow; So e'en to preserve the poor body in life, I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow, I think I maun wed him to-morrow.
# Last May a Braw Wooer (1819, Edinburgh)/Last May a braw wooer

LAST MAY A BRAW WOOER.
Tune—The Lothian Lassie.
Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang gles, And sair wi' his love he did deave me; I said there was naething I hated like men, The deuce tak him to believe me, believe me, The deuce tak him to believe me. He spak o' the darts o' my bennie black een And vowed for my love he was diein: I said he might die when he liket for Jean, The Lord forgie me for liein, for liein. The Lord forgie me for liein!
A weel stockit maileu, himsel for the laird, And marriage aft-hand was the proffer, I never loet on that I kent it or cared, But thought I might get a waur offer, waur offer, But thought I might get a waur offer.
But what do ye think? in o fortnight or less, [The deil's in his taste to gang hear her!] He up the lang lean to my black cousin Bess, ​Guess ye how the jade! I could bear her, could bear her, Guess ye how the jade! I could bear her,
Sae a' the neist week as I fretted wi' care, I gaed to the tryst o' Dalgarnock And wha but ray braw fickle wooer was there, I glowr'd as I d seen a warlock, a warlock, I giowr'd as I'd seen a warlock.
But owre my left shouther I gied him a blink, Lest neighbours might say I was saucy; My wooer he capered as he'd been in drink; And vowed I was his dear lassie dear lassie. And vowed I was his dear lassie.
I spier'd for my cousin fu' couthie and sweet, Gin she had recovered her hearin, And how my auld shoon fitted her shackeled feet, But heavens, how he fell a swearin, a swearin But heavens, how he fell a swearin
He begged, fer Gudesake! I wad be his wife, Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrow; So e'en to preserve the poor body in lif I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow, I think I maun wed him to-morrow.
# Last May a Braw Wooer (1819, Edinburgh)/Mucking o Geordie's byre

MUCKING O GEORDIE'S BYRE.
As I went over yon meadow, And carelessly passing alang, I listened wi' pleasure to Jenny, While mournfufy singing this sang:
The mucking o' Geordie's byre, And the shooling the gruip sae clean. Has aft gart sae spend the night sleepless, And brought the saut tears frae my cen.
It was nae my father's intention, Not was it my mither's desire, ​That e'er I should fyle my fingers Wi' the mucking o' Geordie's byre. The mucking, &c.
Tho' the roads were ever sae dirty, Or the day gae scoury and foul, I wad aye be ganging wi' Geordie, I liked it far better than school. The muckihg, &c.
My brither abuses me daily, For being wi' Geordie sae free; My sister she ca's me hoedwinked, Because he's below my degree. The mucking, &c.
But weel do I like my young Geordie, Although he was cunning and slee; He ca's me his dear and his honey, And I'm sure my Geordie loo's me. The muckiug, &c.
# Last May a Braw Wooer (1819, Edinburgh)

The order of the songs is different from that given on the title page.
Last May a braw Wooer.
Mucking o Geordie’s Byre.
MARY’S' DREAM.
PARTING MOMENTS.
ROSY MORN.
EDINBURGH: PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.
1819.
* Last May a Braw Wooer
* Mary's Dream
* Parting Moments
* Mucking o Geordie's Byre
* Rosy Morn
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Last May a Braw Wooer (1819, Edinburgh)/Mary's dream

MARYS DREAM.
The lovely moon had climbed the h Where eagles big aboon the Dee, And like the looks of a lovely dame, Brought joy to every body's ee; A' but Mary deep in sleep, Her thoughts on Sandie far at sea; A voice drapt saftly on her ear, 'Sweet Mary, weep nae mair for me.'
She lifted up her waukening een, To see from whence the voice might be, And there she saw her Sandie stand. Pale, bending on her his hollow ee! 'O Mary, dear, lament nae mair. I'm in death's thraws below the sea; Thy weeping makes me sad in bliss, Sae, Mary, weep nae mair for me,
'The wind slept when we left the bay, But soon it waked, and raised the main, And God he bore up down the deep, Who strave wi' him but ⟨strave⟩ in vain He stretch'd his arm and took me up, Tho' laith I was to gang but thee; I look frae heaven aboon the storm, Sae, Mary, weep nae mair for me.
​'Take aff thae bride sheets frae thy bed, Which thou hast faulded down for me; Unrobe thee of thy earthly stole— I'll meet with thee in heaven hie.' Three times the grey cock flapt his wing, To mark the morning lift her'ee, And thrice the passing spirit said, 'Sweet Mary, weep nae mair for me?'
# Mary's Dream (1812)/Mary's Dream

Mary’s Dream.
By Alexander Lowe.
The moon had climb’d the highest hill That rises o’er the source of Dee, And from the eastern summit shed Her silver light on tower and tree, When Mary laid her down to sleep— Her thoughts on Sandy, far at sea, Then soft and low a voice was heard, Saying, “Mary, weep no more for me.”
She from her pillow gently rais’d Her head, to ask who there might be, And saw young Sandy shiv’ring stand, With pallid cheek and hollow eye— “O Mary dear! cold is my clay, It lies beneath a stormy sea; Far, far from thee I sleep in death, So, Mary, weep no more for me!
“Three stormy nights and stormy days We toss’d upon the raging main, And long we strove our bark to save, But all our striving was in vain: Even then, when horror clill’d my blood, My heart was fill’d with love to thee; The storm is past, and I at rest, So, Mary, weep no more for me!
​“O madien dear! thyself prepare, We soon shall meet upon that shore Where Love is free from doubt or care, And thou and I shall part no more.” Loud crow’d the cock, the shadow fled, No more of Sandy could she see; But soft the passing spirit said, “O Mary, weep no more for me!”
# Six most excellent songs/Allen-a-Dale

SONGS,
ALLEN-A-DALE.
Allen-a-dale has no faggot for burning, Allen a-dale has no furrow for turning, Allen-a-dale has no fleece for the spinning; Yet Allen-a-dale has red gold for the winning. Come read me my riddle, come hearken my tale, And tell me the craft of bold Allen-a-dale.
The Baron of Ravensworth prances in pride, And he views his domain upon Arkindale side, The mere for his net, and the lamb for his game, The chase for the wild, and the park for the tame; Yet the fish of the lake, and the deer of the vale, Are less free to Lord Dacre as Allen-a-dale.
Allen-a-dale was ne’er belted a knight, Tho’ his spur be as sharp,and his blade be as bright; Allen-a-dale is no baron or lord, Yet twenty tall yeomen will draw at his word; And the best of our nobles his bonnet will veil, Who at Rerecross or Stanmore meets Allen-a-dale.
Allen-a-dale to his wooing is come; The mother she asked of his household and home; ​‘Tho’ the castle of Richmond stands fair on the hill, My hall,’ quoth bold Allen, ‘shows gallanter still; ’Tis the blue vault of heaven, with its crescent so pale, And with all its bright spangles!’ said Allan-a-dale
The father was steel, and the mother was stone, They lifted the latch and bade him begone. But loud on the morrow their wail and their cry; He had laughed on the lass with his bonnie black eye; And she fled to the forest to hear a love-tale. And the youth it was told by was Allen-a-dale.
# Six most excellent songs/Mary, weep nae mair for me

MARY WEEP NAE MAIR FOR ME.
The lovely moon had climbed the hill, Where eagles big aboon the Dee, And like the looks of a lovely dame, Brought joy to every body’s ee; O’ but sweet Mary, deep in sleep, Her thoughts on Sandy far at sea, A voice drapt saftly on her ear, Sweet Mary, weep nae mair for me,
She lifted up her waukening een, To see from whence the voice might be, And there she saw her Sandy stand, Pale, bending on her hallow knee; ​O Mary, dear, lament nae mair.
I'm in death’s thraws below the sea Thy weeping makes me sad in bliss, Sae, Mary, weep nae mair for me!
The wind slept when we left the bay, But soon it waked and raised the main, And God he bore us down the deep, Who wi’ him but strave in vain! He stretched his arm, and took me up, Though laith I was to gang but thee I look frae heaven aboon the storm, Sae, Mary, weep nae mair for me.
Take off these bride sheets frae thy bed, Which thou hast faulded down for me; Unrobe thee of thy earthly store, I’ll meet wi’ thee in heaven hie. Three times the gray cock clapt his wing, To mark the morning lift her ee, And then the parting spirit said, Sweet Mary, weep nae mair for me.
# Six most excellent songs/The youthful squire

THE YOUTHFUL SQUIRE.
My father had no child but me,
And all his care continually, Was for to have me married well, But under fortune’s frown I fell. For to an old miser he wedded me, His age it was three score and three, And I myself about seventeen; I wish his face, I ne’er had seen. For when that I abroad do go To meet a friend to chat, or so; If any man should salute me, It more increases his jealousy. A youthful squire did drink to me, I pledg’d with him my modesty Thought it no harm, yet ne’ertheless, My husband did my shoulders dress. And when that we do go to bed, To reap the joys for which we wed; He does so kick and pinch me too, That he my limbs leaves black and blue. Next morning when that I arose, I straight in haste put on my clothes, And as he lay asleep in bed, I with a laddle broke his head. He took a stick and at me run, I took another———so begun. And round the room did beat him well, Until upon his knees he fell. For every blow I gave him ten, And ask’d would he jealous be again No, no, no, no, my loving wife, If you will now but spare my life.
# The Soldier's Departure/Mary's Dream

MARY'S DREAM.
FINIS.
# The Musical Charmer/Mary's Dream

MARY’s DREAM.
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# Rigs o' barley (1821)/Up in the morning early

UP IN THE MORNING EARLY.
Cauld blaws the wind frae north to south, And drift is driving sairly; The sheep are couring i' the heugh, O sirs! it's winter fairly. Now up in the morning's no for me, Up in the morning early; I'd rather gang supperless to my bed, Than rise in the morning early.
​Rude rairs the blast amang the woods, The branches tirlin barely;
Amang the chimney-taps it thuds, And frost is nippin sairly.
Now up in the morning's no for me, Up in the morning early;
To sit a' the night I'd rather agree, Than rise in the morning early.
The sun peeps o'er the southlan' hill, Like ony timorous carlie;
Just blinks a wee, then sinks again, And that we find severely.
Now up in the morning's no for me, Up in the morning early;
When snaw blaws into the chimley cheek Wha'd rise in the morning early.
Nae linties lilt on hedge or bush, Poor things, they suffer sairly;
In cauldrife quarters a' the night, A'day they feed but sparely.
Now up in the morning's no for me, Up in the morning early;
No fate can be waur, in winter time, Than rise in the morning early.
​A cosey house and canty wife, Keeps ay a body cheerly; And pantry stow'd wi' meal and maut, It answers unco rarely. But up in the morning, na, na na, Up in the morning early; The gowans maun glent on bank & brae When I rise in the morning early.
# Rigs o' barley (1821)/Lassie wi' the raven locks

LASSIE WI' THE RAVEN LOCKS.
Lassie wi' the raven locks, Charming lassie, Highland lassie; Gladly wad I tend thy flocks, Bonnie Highland Mary, O. Where Echaig joins the briny tide, ​And Cowal's hills spread far and wide, Alang the winding banks of Clyde, I met wi' Highland Mary, O. Lassie wi' &c.
Her foot so neatly mark'd the sand, An' gently wav'd her lily hand, As, slow, she trac'd the sea-beat strand, The lovely Highland Mary, O. Lassie wi', &c.
How mildly glanc'd her hazel ee! Like sun-beams on the dewie lea:——— It stowlins, wyl'd the heart frae me, The witching smile of Mary O. Lassie wi', &c.
Her eyebrows of a jetty-hue; Her lips like rose-buds moist wi' dew; A sweeter face ne'er bless'd in view Than youthfu' Highland Mary's O. Lassie wi', &c.
Tho' pure the flow'rs that blaw unseen Amang her native woodlands green, Yet purer far the heart I ween, Of artless, Highland Mary, O. Lassie wi', &c.
​Let others range from isle to isle, Where never-ending simmers smile:——— Mair dear the groves o' Ballochyle, That shelter Highland Mary O. Lassie wi', &c.
I'd, cheerfu', toil frae dawn o' day, O'er yon lone glen and ferny brae, Could I but get, by gloaming grey, Ae blythsome blink of Mary, O.
O may nae cloud the sun o'ercast, To chill this flow'ret's snawie breast! Nae reptile's breath untimely blast The op'ning bloom of Mary, O. Lassie wi', &c.
# Rigs o' barley (1821)/Rigs o' barley

THE RIGS O' BARLEY.
It was upon a Lammas night, When corn rings are bonnie, Beneath the moon's unclouded light I hied awa to Annie:
The time flew by wi' tentless heed, 'Till 'tween the late and early; Wi' sma' persuasion she agreed To see me thro' the barley. Corn rigs, and barley rigs, And corn rigs are bonnie: I'll ne'er forget the happy night Amang the rigs wi' Annie.
The sky was blue, the wind was still, The moon was shining clearlie; I set her down wi' right gude will, Amang the rigs o' barley: I kent her heart was a' my ain; I lov'd her most sincerely; I kiss'd her o'er and o'er again Amang the rigs o' barley. Corn rigs, &c.
​I lock'd her in my fond embrace; Her heart was beating rarely: My blessings on that happy place, Amang the rigs o' barley! But by the moon and stars so bright, That shone that hour so clearly! She ay shall bless that happy night Amang the rigs o' barley! Corn rigs, &c.
I hae been blythe wi' comrades dear; I hae been merry drinking; I hae been joyfu' gath'ring gear; I hae been happy thinking: But a' the pleasures e'er I saw, Tho' three times doubled fairly, That happy night was worth them a' Amang the rigs o' barley. Corn rigs, &c.
# Lament for Abercrombie

There are differences between the titles given on title page and those at the head of each song. Where this is the case, the latter have been used.
Lament for Abercrombie;
To which are added,
The Harper of Mull.
John Anderson my jo John.
Wood of Craigie lea.
Let drunkards.
STIRLING:
PRINTED. BY W. MACNIE.
* Lament for Abercrombie
* The Harper of Mull
* John Anderson my jo John
* Wood of Craigie Lea
* Let Drunkards Sing
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse