Song--The Couthie Auld Man Poem by Janet Hamilton

Wi' a blush, an' a glint o' true luve frae her e'e,
Her bonnie white haunie, sae saft an' sae wee,
A' trem'lin' she laid in my braid, waukit loof:
I'm yours, John, for ever-tak that for the proof.


My heart it gaed duntin'; Oh funeuch and fain
Was I whan I ca'd the dear lassock my ain;
An' the saft haun I chirted, and pree'd the wee mou'
Sae rosy an' rich wi' luve's sweet honey-dew.


The auld wife consented, the auld man an a',
Tae gie me their dochter, an' blest was my fa';
Tho' my luve an' their blessin' was a' the bride's gear,
We've throught weel an' thriven this mony a year.


We ha'e a bit mailin wi' whilk we can fen,
We've sax bonnie bairns grown to women an' men,-
My lassocks are winsome, an' warkrife, an' douce,
An' my callans, gude sain them, are stoops o' the hoose.


An' noo the white haunie is runkled and lean,
An' dim is the licht in the luve glintin' een,
An' the rich rosy lips noo are wallow't and wan,
But they're aye just as sweet to the couthie auld man.