Allan Cunningham (1784–1842)

THOU hast sworn by thy God, my Jeanie,

By that pretty white hand o’ thine,

And by a’ the lowing stars in heaven,

That thou wad aye be mine!

And I hae sworn by my God, my Jeanie,

And by that kind heart o’ thine,

By a’ the stars sown thick owre heaven,

That thou shalt aye be mine!

Then foul fa’ the hands that wad loose sic bands,

And the heart that wad part sic luve!

But there’s nae hand can loose my band,

But the finger o’ Him above.

Though the wee wee cot maun be my bield,

And my clothing ne’er sa mean,

I wad lap me up rich i’ the faulds o’ luve,—

Heaven’s armfu’ o’ my Jean.

Her white arm wad be a pillow for me

Fu’ safter than the down;

And Luve wad winnow owre us his kind kind wings,

An’ sweetly I’d sleep an’ sound.

Come here to me, thou lass o’ my luve!

Come here and kneel wi me!

The morn is fu’ o’ the presence o’ God,

And I canna pray without thee.

The morn wind is sweet ’mang the beds o’ new flowers,

The wee birds sing kindlie and hie;

Our gudeman leans o’er his kale yard dyke,

And a blythe auld bodie is he.

The Beuk maun be ta’en when the carle comes hame,

Wi the holy psalmodie;

And thou maun speak o’ me to thy God,

And I will speak o’ thee.