Song—Had I the wyte, she bade me

HAD I the wyte, had I the wyte,
Had I the wyte? she bade me;
She watch’d me by the hie-gate side,
And up the loan she shaw’d me.
And when I wadna venture in,
A coward loon she ca’d me:
Had Kirk an’ State been in the gate,
I’d lighted when she bade me.

Sae craftilie she took me ben,
And bade me mak nae clatter;
“For our ramgunshoch, glum gudeman
Is o’er ayont the water.”
Whae’er shall say I wanted grace,
When I did kiss and dawte her,
Let him be planted in my place,
Syne say, I was the fautor.

Could I for shame, could I for shame,
Could I for shame refus’d her;
And wadna manhood been to blame,
Had I unkindly used her!
He claw’d her wi’ the ripplin-kame,
And blae and bluidy bruis’d her;
When sic a husband was frae hame,
What wife but wad excus’d her!

I dighted aye her e’en sae blue,
An’ bann’d the cruel randy,
And weel I wat, her willin’ mou
Was sweet as sugar-candie.
At gloamin-shot, it was I wot,
I lighted on the Monday;
But I cam thro’ the Tyseday’s dew,
To wanton Willie’s brandy.