To Ma Valentine by Chimmagie MacGonagle
To My Valentine
( A can dream in February – Can I no ? )
by Chimmagie MacGonagle.
If ye should somehow fall for me
And A should tumble in reverse
We’d swear by all eternity
Take for better or for worse,
And live on love from dawn till taps,
Perhaps !
If ye hed money in ‘e bank –
As much as any bank wid hold –
A widna want a single franc,
For Love wid rule, an’ all your gold
Wid mean no more till me than Zinc –
A think !
St Valentine's Day by the Caithness Violinist
St Valentine’s Day
By the Caithness Violinist aka Robert MacKay.
c. 1951
Hids fifty years iss very day
Since Jock proposed tae me;
Ma hert I gave him straightaway
Wi’ a’ it’s love sae free.
Jock swore by every oath he kent,
He’d never let me doon,
But stick tae me as hard’s cement,
An’ we’d get merried soon.
But here I am a spinster still,
As Jock’s been aff for years
And still a gimmer on ‘e hill
Nae wonder A’m in tears.
So lassies tak ye my advice
An’ watch yersels wi’ men
Wi’ them ye stan’ on slippery ice
Believe me, for I ken.
But may ye fin’ a Valentine
That’ll ne’er lead ye astray
May love in purity entwine
Your hert an’ his this day.
In Love by Thyrza Sutherland
In Love
By Thyrza Sutherland c. 1951
O guess ye hoo A feel the night
Ah! No! Ye dinna ken !
There ne’er was wan fa felt sae ill
Both but ‘e hoose an’ ben.
A canna rest at a’ at e’en
Doon by wur ain fireside,
But forth must go a’ by masel,
Till wander by ‘e tide !
A canna set ma wanderin’ thochts
On anything at a’
A canna eit, A canna sleep,
Ma peace has gone awa!
A’m ill, ye canna doot,
Ma heid’s fair lek till rive,
Ma hert aye forbye goes pit-a-pat
A’m mair deid than alive !
Losh lassie but I ken richt weel
What ails ye noo so sore,
Ye’ve seen twa een, they’ve stolen awa
Your peace, aye and far more,
Nae doot but wid he say ‘e word
Ye’d be content till rove,
So airm in airm, up ‘e Mall
For Jenny ye’re in LOVE !
Ma Ould Wumman an' I. by Sanny St Clair
Ma Ould Wumman an’ I
By Sanny St Clair c. 1950
We hev crossed ‘e bridge o’er the middle of life
Ma ould wumman an’ I
Takin wur share in the calm an strife
Wi’ the travellers passing by;
And though on our pathway the shadows are rife,
There’s a licht in the western sky !
Some losses an’ crosses of coorse we’ve had,
Ma ould wumman an’ I
But bless ye ! we’ve never found time to be sad,
And a very good reason why,
We were busy as bees, an’ we werena so mad
As til stop in wur work til cry !
On wur changeable road as we journeyed along,
Ma ould wumman an’ I
The kindly companions we met in the throng
Made our lives like a vision fly,
And therefore, the few that imagine us wrong,
Scarcely costs us a single sigh !
The weak an’ the weary we’ve striven til cheer
Ma ould wumman an’ I
For each o’ us thocht that wur duty while here
Was til do as we’d be done by,
In the hope to exhibit a balance clear
When the reckoning day is nigh !
As the Rose grows Merry in Time.
As the Rose grows Merry in Time.
From The Silver Darlings by Neil M. Gunn.
Page 546
" This" said Finn, "is a song I heard from a woman in my native county of Caithness …"
As I came over yonder hill,
As the rose grows merry in time,
I met a fair maiden her name it was Nell
Saying, an you will be a true lover of mine.
You must make unto me a cambric shirt,
As the rose grows merry in time,
Without one stitch of your own needlework,
Before you can be a true lover of mine.
You must wash it in yonder well,
As the rose grows merry in time,
Where water ne’er flowed nor dew ever fell,
Before you can be a true lover of mine.
"It’s questions three you have put to me,
As the rose grows merry in time,
But twice as many more you must answer to me,
Before you can be a true lover of mine.
"An acre of land you must plough to me,
As the rose grows merry in time,
Between the salt waters and the sands of the sea,
Before you can be a true love of mine.
"You must plough it with a wild ram’s horn,
As the rose grows merry in time,
And sow it all over with one peck of corn,
Before you can be a true lover of mine.
"You must reap it with a wild-goose feather,
As the rose grows merry in time,
And bind it together with the sting of a nether (adder )
Before you can be a true lover of mine.
"You must build it on yonder sea,
As the rose grows merry in time,
And bring in the last sheaf dry unto to me,
Before you can be a true lover of mine.
"You must thresh it on yon castle wall,
As the rose grows merry in time,
And mind on your life don’t let one pickle fall,
Before you can be a true lover of mine.
"And – when you have finished your work,
As the rose grows merry in time,
You may call upon on me for your cambric shirt
And then you can be a true lover of mine."
Love's Calendar by William Bell Scott
LOVE'S CALENDAR
By William Bell Scott.
1811- 1890 Painter and Poet.
( Scott, born in Edinburgh came from an artistic family.
He greatly inspired Rossetti.)
That gusty spring, each afternoon
By the ivied cot I passed,
And noted at that lattice soon
Her fair face downward cast;
Still in the same place seated there,
So diligent, so very fair.
Oft-times I said I knew her not,
Yet that way round would go,
Until, when evenings lengthened out,
And bloomed by the may-hedge row,
I met her by the wayside well,
Whose waters, maybe, broke the spell.
For, leaning on her pail she prayed
I'd lift it to her head,
So did I; but I'm much afraid
Some wasteful drops were shed,
And that we blushed, as face to face
Needs must we stand the shortest space.
Then when the sunset mellowed through
The ears of rustling grain,
When lattice wide open flew,
When ash-leaves fell like rain,
As well as I she knew the hour
At morn or eve I neared her bower.
And now that snow o'erlays the thatch,
Each starlit eve within
The door she waits, I raise the latch,
And kiss her lifted chin;
Nor do I think we've blushed again,
For Love hath made but one of twain.