I’m Owre Young to Marry Yet
I am my mammie’s ae bairn,
Wi’ unco folk I weary, Sir;
And lying in a man’s bed,
I’m fley’d wad mak me eerie, Sir.
I’m owre young, I’m owre young,
I’m owre young to marry yet;
I’m owre young, ’twad be a sin
To tak me frae my mammie yet.
My mammie coft me a new gown,
The kirk maun hae the gracing o’t;
Were I to lie wi’ you, kind Sir,
I’m fear’d ye’d spoil the lacing o’t.
Hallowmas is come and gane,
The nights are lang in winter, Sir;
And you an’ I in ae bed,
In troth I dare na venture, Sir.
Fu’ loud and shrill the frosty wind
Blaws thro’ the leafless timmer, Sir;
But if ye come this gate again,
I’ll aulder be gin simmer, Sir.
I’m owre young, I’m owre young,
I’m owre young to marry yet;
I’m owre young, ’twad be a sin
To tak me frae my mammie yet.