| 1 |
All ye young men, I pray draw near,
I'll let you hear my mind
Concerning those who fickle are,
And inconstant as the wind. |
| 2 |
A pretty maid who late livd here,
And sweetheatrs many had,
The gardener-lad he viewd them all,
Just as they came and gaed. |
| 3 |
The gardener-lad he viewd them all,
But swore he had no skill:
'If I were to go as oft to her,
Ye surely would me kill. |
| 4 |
'I'm sure she's not a proper maid,
I'm sure she is not tall;'
Another young man standing by,
he said, Slight none at all. |
| 5 |
'For we're all come of woman,' he said,
'If ye woud call to mind,
And to all women for her sake
Ye surely should be kind.' |
| 6 |
'The summer hours and warm showers
Make the the trees yield in the ground,
And kindly words will woman win,
And this maid I'll surround.' |
| 7 |
The maid then stood in her bower-door,
As straight as ony wand,
When by it came the gardener-lad,
With his hat in his hand. |
| 8 |
'Will ye live on fruit,' he said?
'Or will ye marry me?
And amongst the flowers in my garden
I'll shape a weed for thee.' |
| 9 |
'I will live on fruit,' she says,
'But I'll never marry thee;
For I can live without mankind,
And without mankind I'll die.' |
| 10 |
'Ye shall not live without mankind,
If ye'll accept of me;
For among the flowers in my garden
I'll shape a weed for thee. |
| 11 |
'The lily white to be your smock;
Becomes your body best;
And the jelly-flower to be your quill,
And the red rose in your breast. |
| 12 |
'Your gown shall be o the pingo white,
Your petticoat cammovine,
Your apron o the seel o downs;
Come smile, sweet heart o mine! |
| 13 |
'Your shoes shall be o the gude rue red —
Never did I garden ill —
Your stockings o the mary mild;
Come smile, sweet heart, your fill! |
| 14 |
'Your gloves shall be o the green clover,
Comes lockerin to your hand,
Well dropped oer wi blue blavers,
That grow among white land.' |
| 15 |
'Young man, ye've shap'd a weed for me,
In summer among your flowers;
Now I will shape another for you,
Among the winter showers. |
| 16 |
'The snow so white shall be your shirt;
It becomes your body best;
The cold bleak wind to be your coat,
And the cold wind in your breast. |
| 17 |
'The steed that you shall ride upon
Shall be o the weather snell,
Well bridled wi the northern wind,
And cold sharp showers o hail. |
| 18 |
'The hat you on your head shall wear
Shall be o the weather gray,
And aye when you come into my sight
I'll wish you were away.' |
