Classic Poem

" Oh, will ye fancy me, fair maid?
Oh, will ye fancy me? O
Or will ye go to be ladye o the Drum,
An let a' your shearin abe? O
An let a' your shearin abe? O
An let a' your shearin abe?" O

" I can neither read nor write,
Nor neer been brocht up at schule;
But I can do all other things,
An keep a hoose richt weel.

" My faither he 's a puir shepherd-man,
Herds his hogs on yonder hill;
Gin ye will go get his consent,
Then I 'll be at your call."

He has gane to her father,
That herds hogs on yonder hill;
He said, " You 've got a pretty daughter,
I 'd fain tak her to my sel."

" She can neither read nor write,
Was neer brocht up at schule;
But she can do all other things,
An I learnt aye the lassie my sel.

" She 'll milk your cows, she 'll carry your corn,
She 'll gang to the mill or the kiln;
She 'll saddle your steed at any time of need,
And she 'll brush up your boots hersel."

" It 's who will bake my bridal bread?
Or who will brew my ale?
Or who will welcome this bonnie lassie in?
For it 's more than I can tell."

There 's four-and-twenty gentlemen
Stand doun at the gate o the Drum;
Not one of them all would take off his hat
For to welcome the bonnie lassie in.

. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
" Oh, brother, you 've married a wife this day
A disgrace to all our kin."

" Oh, brother, I 've married a wife to win,
And ye 've got one to spen,
And as long as the bonnie lassie walks out and in
She shall aye be the ladye o the Drum."

When all was done, and no bells rung,
And all men bound for their bed,
The laird and the shepherd's bonnie daughter
In one bed they were laid.

" Though I 'm not of as noble blood,
Nor yet of as high degree,
Now I lie locked in your arms two,
And you must be contented wi me.

" If you were dead, and I were dead,
And baith laid in one grave,
If we were baith to be raised up again,
Wha would ken your dust frae mine?