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159. Song—My Lord a-Hunting he is gane

by
 Chorus.
—MY lady’s gown, there’s gairs upon’t, And gowden flowers sae rare upon’t; But Jenny’s jimps and jirkinet, My lord thinks meikle mair upon’t.
My lord a-hunting he is gone, But hounds or hawks wi’ him are nane; By Colin’s cottage lies his game, If Colin’s Jenny be at hame.
My lady’s gown, &c.
My lady’s white, my lady’s red, And kith and kin o’ Cassillis’ blude; But her ten-pund lands o’ tocher gude; Were a’ the charms his lordship lo’ed.
My lady’s gown, &c.
Out o’er yon muir, out o’er yon moss, Whare gor-cocks thro’ the heather pass, There wons auld Colin’s bonie lass, A lily in a wilderness.
My lady’s gown, &c.
Sae sweetly move her genty limbs, Like music notes o’lovers’ hymns: The diamond-dew in her een sae blue, Where laughing love sae wanton swims.
My lady’s gown, &c.
My lady’s dink, my lady’s drest, The flower and fancy o’ the west; But the lassie than a man lo’es best, O that’s the lass to mak him blest.
My lady’s gown, &c.

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