Wilt thou be my Dearie and Contented wi' little, & cantie wi' mair
Wilt thou be my Dearie ----
Tune, The Sutor's dochter
Wilt thou be my Dearie:
When sorrow wrings thy gentle heart,
Wilt thou let me chear thee:
By the treasures of my soul!
That's the love I bear thee!
I swear & vow, that only thou
Shalt ever be my Dearie --
Only thou I swear & vow,
Shalt ever be my Dearie. ----
Lassie, say thou lo'es me;
Or if thou wilt na be my ain,
Say na thou'lt refuse me:
If it winna, canna be,
Thou for thine may chuse me,
Let me, Lassie, quickly die,
Trusting that thou lo'es me --
Lassie, let me quickly die,
Trusting that thou lo'es me.----
_____________
Tune, The Sutor's dochter
Wilt thou be my Dearie:
When sorrow wrings thy gentle heart,
Wilt thou let me chear thee:
By the treasures of my soul!
That's the love I bear thee!
I swear & vow, that only thou
Shalt ever be my Dearie --
Only thou I swear & vow,
Shalt ever be my Dearie. ----
Lassie, say thou lo'es me;
Or if thou wilt na be my ain,
Say na thou'lt refuse me:
If it winna, canna be,
Thou for thine may chuse me,
Let me, Lassie, quickly die,
Trusting that thou lo'es me --
Lassie, let me quickly die,
Trusting that thou lo'es me.----
_____________
A Scots lilt, new off the airns, the the tune
of, Lumps o' puddins ----
Contented wi' little, & cantie wi' mair,
Whene'er I forgather wi' Sorrow & Care,
I gie them a skelp, as they're creepin alang,
Wi' a cog o' gude swats & an auld Scottish sang. --
I whyles claw the elbow o' troublesome thought,
But Man is a Soger, & Life is a Faught;
My mirth & good humour are coin in my pouch,
And my freedom's my lairdship nae monarch dare touch
A towmont o' trouble, should that be my fa',
A night o' gude fellowship sowthers it a':
When at the blyth end of our journey at last,
Wha the deil ever thinks o' the road he has past. --
Blind Chance, let her snapper & stoyte on her way
Be't to me, be't frae me, e'en let the jad gae;
Come ease or come travail, come pleasure or pain,
My warst wesh word is, 'Welcome, & welcome again!'
RB
newly composed & this is the first copy
6th April 1795
of, Lumps o' puddins ----
Contented wi' little, & cantie wi' mair,
Whene'er I forgather wi' Sorrow & Care,
I gie them a skelp, as they're creepin alang,
Wi' a cog o' gude swats & an auld Scottish sang. --
I whyles claw the elbow o' troublesome thought,
But Man is a Soger, & Life is a Faught;
My mirth & good humour are coin in my pouch,
And my freedom's my lairdship nae monarch dare touch
A towmont o' trouble, should that be my fa',
A night o' gude fellowship sowthers it a':
When at the blyth end of our journey at last,
Wha the deil ever thinks o' the road he has past. --
Blind Chance, let her snapper & stoyte on her way
Be't to me, be't frae me, e'en let the jad gae;
Come ease or come travail, come pleasure or pain,
My warst wesh word is, 'Welcome, & welcome again!'
RB
newly composed & this is the first copy
6th April 1795

Key details
- Archive number
- NTS/02/25/BRN/02/87
- Alt. number
- 3.6245
- Date
- November 1794
- On display
- No
- Creator
- Burns, Robert (Author)
Archive information
Themes
Hierarchy
-
Robert Burns, collection of poems and songs
(
a sub-fonds is a subdivision in the archival material)
- Wilt thou be my Dearie and Contented wi' little, & cantie wi' mair