The Shepherd Boy's Song

Play up, my love, my darling Sue!

That strain was rather mair than common,
The Iambics darena chump nor chew,
For listening to my little woman.
An' see how Bawtie's brockit crown
Is gee'd up to the cope o' heaven !
He thinks the fairies are come down
Our wildered correi to enliven.

Play up, my love ! That pipe, I vow,
Is mellower than I e'er could trow it,
It never play'd sae sweet till now,
Wi' the sweet breath that passes through it.
Strike A and B, then half the C,
And then a minim soft an' evenly ;
But, Oh ! 'tis a' the same to me —
If there's a tone, the music's heavenly.

Music has power to still the waves —
To break the cloud an' bend the willow —
To wake the dead out o' their graves,
An' bang frae 'neath the stormy billow,
To make the fays o' glen and grove .

Skip wildly o'er their velvet flooring,
But when it pours from lips we love,
Oh ! 'tis sae sweet, 'tis past enduring !