Merry Muses of Caledonia by Robert Burns

We're A' Gaun Southie, O
Callum cam to Campbell's coort,

An saw ye e'er the mak o't;

Payed twenty shillins for a thing,

An never got a straik o't.

We're a' gaun southie, O.

We're a' gaun there;

An we're a' gaun to Mauchlin fair,

To sell oor pickle hair.

Payed twenty shillins for a quine,

Her name was Kirsty Lauchlan;

But Callum teuk her by the cunt,

Before the laird o Mauchline.

Callum cam to Kirsty's door,

Says, Kirsty are ye sleepin?

No sae soun as ye wad trow,

Ye'se get the thing ye're seekin.

Callum haed a peck o meal,

Says, Kirsty, will ye draik it?

She whippet aff her wee white-coat,

An birket at it nakit.

Bonnie lassie, braw lassie,

Will ye hae a soger?

Then she teuk up her duddie sark,

An he shot in his Roger.

Kind kimmer Kirsty,

I be wi a' my hert, O,

An when there's ony pentles gaun,

She'll ay get a pairt, O.

Ode to Spring
When maukin bucks, at early fucks,

In dewy gress are seen, Sir;

An birds, on bous, tak aff their mowes,

Amang the leaves sae green, Sir;

Latona's son leuks liquorish on Dame Natur's grand impetus,

Till his p-gae rise, then westward flees

To r-ger Madame Thetis.
Yon wanderin rill that marks the hill,

An glances ower the brae, Sir,

Glides by a bower where mony a flouer

Sheds fragrance on the day, Sir;

There Damon lay, wi Sylvia gay,

To love they thocht no crime, Sir;

The wild-birds sang, the echoes rang,

While Damon's a-se beat time, Sir.--

First, wi the thrush, his thrust & push

Haed compass lairge & lang, Sir;

The blackbird next, his tunefu text,

Was bolder, clear & strang, Sir;

The linnet's lay cam then in play,

An the lark that soared abuin, Sir;

Till Damon, fierce, mistimed his a-,

An f-'d quite oot o tune, Sir.--

Supper isna Ready
Roseberry to his lady says,

"My hinnie an my succour,

"O shall we dae the thing you ken,

"Or shall we tak oor supper?"

Fal, lal, &c.
Wi modest face, sae fou o grace,

Replied the bonny lady;

"My noble lord dae as you please,

"But supper is na ready."

Fal, lal, &c.

Tail Todle
Oor gudewife held ower to Fife,

For to buy a coal-riddle;

Lang or she cam back again,

Tammie gart my tail todle.

Tail todle, tail todle;

Tammie gart my tail todle;

At my erse wi diddle doddle,

Tammie gart my tail todle.

When I'm deid I'm oot o date;

When I'm seek I'm fou o trouble;

When I'm weel I step aboot,

An Tammie gars my tail todle.

Jenny Jack she gae a plack,

Helen Wallace gae a boddle,

Qo the bride, it's ower little

For to mend a broken doddle.

He Till't an She Till't
He till't, an she till't,

An a' to mak a lad again;

The auld beld carl,

Whan he wan on did nod again;

An he dang, an she flang,

An a' to mak a laddie o't;

But he bored an she roared,

An coudna mak a lassie o't.

Toddlin Hame

By David McCulloch o Ardwell, Galloway

When wice Solomon was young man o micht,

He was canty, & liked a lass ilka nicht;

But when he grew auld that he was na in trim,

He cried oot, "In faith, Sirs! I dout it's a sin!"

Toddlin hame, toddlin hame,

Sae roond as a neep we gang toddlin hame.--

But we're no come to that time o life yet, ye ken;

The bottle's hauf-oot - but we'll fill it again:

As for Solomon's douts, wha the deevil cares for't!

He's a damned churlish fallow that likes to spill sport.

Toddlin &c.
A bicker that's gizzened, it's nae worth a doit;

Keep it wat, it will haud in--it winna let oot:

A chiel that's ay sober, is damned ill to ken;

Keep him wat wi guid drink-& ye'll finnd him oot then.--

Toddlin &c.
Mey oor hoose be weel theekit, oor pantry ay fou,

Wi rowth in oor cellar for weetin oor mou;

Wi a ticht, caller hizzie, as keen as oursels,

Ay ready to souple the whistle & bells!!!

Toddlin hame &c.

The Trogger

As I cam doun by Annan side,

Intendin for the border,

Amang the Scroggie banks an braes

Wha met I but a trogger.
He laid me doun upon my back,

I thocht he was but jokin,

Till he was in me to the hilts,

O the deevil tak sic troggin!

What could I say, what could I dae,

I banned an sair misca'd him,

But whiltie-whaltie gaed his erse,

The mair that I forbad him:

He stell'd his fit against a stane,

An doubled ilka stroke in,

Till I gaed daft amang his hands,

O the deevil tak sic troggin!

Then up we raise, an teuk the road,

An in by Ecclefechan,

Where the brandy-stoup we gart it clink,

An the strang-beer ream the quech in

Bedown the bents o Bonshaw braes,

We teuk the partin yokin;

But I've clawed a sairy cunt sinsyne,

O the deevil tak sic troggin!

There was Twa Wifes
There was twa wifes, an twa witty wifes,

As e'er played houghmagandie,

An they cuist oot, upon a time,

Oot ower a drink o brandy;

Up Maggy rose, an forth she gaes,

An she leaves auld Mary flytin,

An she farted by the byre-en'

For she was gaun a-shitin.

She farted by the byre-en'

She farted by the stable;

An thick an nimble were her steps

As fast as she was able:

Till at yon dyke-back the hurly brak,

But raxin for some dockins,

The beans an pease cam doun her thies,

An she cackit a' her stockins.

Wad ye dae That?

Gudewife, when your gudeman's frae hame,

Micht I but be sae bauld,

As come to your bed-chaumer,

When winter nichts are cauld;

As come to your bed-chaumer,

When nichts are cauld an wat,

An lie in your gudeman's steed, Wad ye dae that?

Young man, an ye should be sae kind,

When oor gudeman's frae hame,

As come to my bed-chaumer,

Where I am laid my lane;

An lie in oor gudeman's steed,

I will tell you what,

He fucks me five times ilka nicht, Wad ye dae that?

Wap an Row

Chorus-(Note, the sang begins wi the Chorus)

Wap & row, wap & row,

Wap & row the feetie o't

I thocht I was a maiden fair,

Till I heard the greetie o't.--

My daddie was a fiddler fine,

My minnie she made mantie, O,

An I mysel a thumpin quine,

An tried the rantie-tantie O.

Wap an row &c.

Here's His Health In Watter
Altho my back be at the wa,

An tho he be the fautor;

Altho my back be at the wa',

I'll drink his health in watter.

O wae gae by his wanton sides,

Sae brawly's he coud flatter.

I for his sake am slichted sair,

An dree the kintra clatter;

But let them say whate'er they like,

Yet, here's his health in watter.

He follaed me baith oot an in,

Throu a' the nooks o Killie;

He follaed me baith oot an in,

Wi a stiff stanin p-llie.

But when he gat atween my legs,

We made an unco splatter;

An haith, I trow, I soupled it,

Tho bauldly he did blatter;

But nou my back is at the wa',

Yet here's his health in watter.

Wha the Deil can Hinder the Wind to Blaw?

It fell aboot the blythe new-year,

When days are short an nichts are lang,

Ae bonnie nicht, the starns were clear,

An frost beneath my fit-steed rang;
I heard a carlin cry, "relief!"

Atweesh her trams a birkie lay;

But he wan a quarter in her beef,

For a' the jirts the carlin gae.

She heaved to; an he strak frae,

As he wad nailed the carlin throu;

An ilka fart the carlin gae,

It wad hae filled a pockie fou;

Temper your tail, the young man cried,

Temper your tail by Venus' law!

Dooble your dunts, the dame replied,

Wha the deil can hinder the wind to blaw?

I'll Tell You a Tale o a Wife
I'll tell you a tale o a Wife,

An she was a Whig an a Saunt;

She lived a maist sanctified life,

But whyles she was fashed wi her cunt.--

Fal lal &c.
Puir wumman! she gaed to the Priest,

An till him she made her complaint;

"There's naething that troubles my breest

"Sae sair as the sins o my cunt.--

"Sin that I was herdin at hame,

"Till nou I'm three score & ayont,

"I own it wi sin & wi shame

I've led a sad life wi my cunt.--

He bade her to clear up her brou,

An no be discouraged upon 't;

For holy guid weemen enow

Were mony times waur't wi their cunt.--

It's nocht but Beelzebub's are,

But that's the mair sign o a saunt,

He kens that ye're pure at the hert,

Sae levels his dairts at your cunt.--

What signifies Morals & Works,

Oor works are no wordy a runt!

It's Faith that is soond, orthodox

That covers the fauts o your cunt.--

Were ye o the Reprobate race

Created to sin & be brunt,

O then it wad alter the case

If ye should gae wrang wi your cunt.--

But you that is Caa'd & Free

Elekit & chuisen a saunt,

Will't brak the Eternal Decree

Whatever ye dae wi your cunt?--

An nou wi a sanctified kiss

Let's kneel & renew covenant:

It's this--an it's this--an it's this--

That settles the pride o your cunt.--

Devotion blew up to a flame;

No wirds can dae juistice upon't;

The honest auld wumman gaed hame

Rejoicin an clawin her cunt.--

Then hiech to her memory chairge;

An mey he wha taks it affront,

Still ride in Love's channel at lairge,

An never mak port in a cunt!!!

Ye Hae Lien Wrang, Lassie
Your rosy cheeks are turned sae wan,

Ye're greener than the gress, lassie,

Your coatie's shorter by a span,

Yet deil an inch the less, lassie.

Ye hae lien wrang, lassie,

Ye've lien a' wrang,

Ye've lien in some unco bed,

An wi some unco man.

Ye've loot the pownie ower the dyke,

An he's been in the corn, lassie;

For ay the brose ye sup at e'en,

Ye bock them or the morn, lassie.

Fou lichtly lap ye ower the knowe,

An throu the wud ye sang, lassie;

But herryin o the foggie byke,

I fear ye've got a stang, lassie.

Haed I the Wyte She Bade Me

Haed I the wyte, haed I the wyte,

Haed I the wyte she bad me;

For she was steward in the hoose,

An I was fit-man laddie;
An when I wadna do't again,

A silly cou she ca'd me;

She straik't my heid, an clapt my cheeks,

An lowsed my breeks an bad me.

Could I for shame, could I for shame,

Could I for shame deny'[d] her;

Or in the bed was I to blame,

She bad me lye beside her:

I pat six inches in her wame,

A quarter wadna fly'd her;

For ay the mair I ca'd it hame,

Her ports they grew the wider.

My tartan plaid, when it was dark,

Could I refuse to share it;

She lifted up her holland-sark,

An bad me fin' the gair o't:

Or how could I amang the garse,

But gie her hilt an hair o't;

She clasped her hochs aboot my erse,

An ay she glowred for mair o't.

Yon, Yon, Yon, Lassie
I never saw a silken goun,

But I wad kiss the sleeve o't;

I never saw a maidenheid

That I wad spier the leave o't.

O, yon, yon, yon, lassie,

Yon, yon, yon;

I never met a bonnie lass

But what wad play at yon.

Tell nae me, o Meg my wife,

That crowdie haes na savour;

But gie to me a bonnie lass

An let me steal the favour.

Gie me her I kis't yestreen,

I vow but she was handsome,

For ilka birss upon her cunt,

Was worth a ryal ransom.

An yon, yon, yon, lassie,

Yon, yon, yon,

I never saw a bonnie lass

But what wad dae yon.

The Yellow, Yello Yorlin

It fell on a day, in the flouery month o Mey,

A' on a merry merry mornin,

I met a pretty maid, an unto her I said,

I wad fain fin' your yellow yellow yorlin.
O no, young man, says she, you're a stranger to me,

An I am anither man's darlin,

Wha haes baith sheep an cous, that's feedin in the hows,

An a cock for my yellow yellow yorlin.

But, if I lay you doun upon the dewy grund,

You wad nae be the waur ae farthin;

An that happy, happy man, he never wou'd ken

That I played wi your yellow yellow yorlin.

O fie, young man, says she, I pray you let me be,

I wad na for five pound sterlin;

My mither wad gae mad, an sae wad my dad,

If you played wi my yellow yellow yorlin.

But I teuk her by the waist, an laid her doun in haste,

For a' her squakin an squalin;

The lassie suin grew tame, an bade me come again

For to play wi her yellow yellow yorlin.