Poetry Archives

I like ye weel upo Sundays, Nannie,
  I’ yer goon and yer ribbons and a’;
But I like ye better on Mondays, Nannie,
  Whan ye’re no sae buskit and braw.

For whan we’re sittin sae douce, Nannie,
  Wi’ the lave o’ the worshippin fowk,
That aneth the haly hoose, Nannie,
  Ye micht hear a moudiwarp howk,

It will come into my heid, Nannie,
  O’ yer braws ye are thinkin a wee;
No alane o’ the Bible-seed, Nannie,
  Nor the minister nor me!

Syne hame athort the green, Nannie,
  Ye gang wi’ a toss o’ yer chin;
And there walks a shadow atween ’s, Nannie,
  A dark ane though it be thin!

But noo, whan I see ye gang, Nannie,
  Eident at what’s to be dune,
Liltin a haiveless sang, Nannie,
  I wud kiss yer verra shune!

Wi’ yer silken net on yer hair, Nannie,
  I’ yer bonnie blue petticoat,
Wi’ yer kin’ly arms a’ bare, Nannie,
  On yer ilka motion I doat.

For, oh, but ye’re canty and free, Nannie,
  Airy o’ hert and o’ fit!
A star-beam glents frae yer ee, Nannie—
  O’ yersel ye’re no thinkin a bit!

Fillin the cogue frae the coo, Nannie,
  Skimmin the yallow ream,
Pourin awa the het broo, Nannie,
  Lichtin the lampie’s leme,

Turnin or steppin alang, Nannie,
  Liftin and layin doon,
Settin richt what’s aye gaein wrang, Nannie,
  Yer motion’s baith dance and tune!

I’ the hoose ye’re a licht and a law, Nannie,
  A servan like him ‘at’s abune:
Oh, a woman’s bonniest o’ a’, Nannie,
  Doin what maun be dune!

Cled i’ yer Sunday claes, Nannie,
  Fair kythe ye to mony an ee;
But cled i’ yer ilka-day’s, Nannie,
  Ye draw the hert frae me!