513. Song—Steer her up and haud her gaun

 O STEER her up, an’ haud her gaun,
 Her mither’s at the mill, jo;
An’ gin she winna tak a man,
 E’en let her tak her will, jo.
First shore her wi’ a gentle kiss,
 And ca’ anither gill, jo;
An’ gin she tak the thing amiss,
 E’en let her flyte her fill, jo.


O steer her up, an’ be na blate,
 An’ gin she tak it ill, jo,
Then leave the lassie till her fate,
 And time nae langer spill, jo:
Ne’er break your heart for ae rebute,
 But think upon it still, jo:
That gin the lassie winna do’t,
 Ye’ll find anither will, jo.

Email Poem |