Poems and Songs of Robert Burns

Chapter 283: My Love, She’s But A Lassie Yet

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About This Book

The collection assembles lyrical songs, narrative poems, satirical pieces, epistles, epitaphs, and fragments that shift between convivial drinking verses, tender laments, and comic storytelling. Many lyrics were shaped to traditional airs and preserve vernacular speech, while longer works portray rural labor, domestic scenes, and compassionate encounters with animals. Satire targets religious hypocrisy and social pretension, and several poems take a direct, personal tone of moral reflection or affectionate address. The selections alternate moods and forms, emphasizing melodic phrasing and a versatile technical range.

My Love, She’s But A Lassie Yet

My love, she’s but a lassie yet, My love, she’s but a lassie yet; We’ll let her stand a year or twa, She’ll no be half sae saucy yet; I rue the day I sought her, O! I rue the day I sought her, O! Wha gets her needs na say she’s woo’d, But he may say he’s bought her, O. Come, draw a drap o’ the best o’t yet, Come, draw a drap o’ the best o’t yet, Gae seek for pleasure whare you will, But here I never miss’d it yet, We’re a’ dry wi’ drinkin o’t, We’re a’ dry wi’ drinkin o’t; The minister kiss’d the fiddler’s wife; He could na preach for thinkin o’t.