O LASSIE, are ye sleepin yet,
Or are ye waukin, I wad wit?
For Love has bound me hand an’ fit,
And I would fain be in, jo.
Chorus.—O let me in this ae night,
This ae, ae, ae night;
O let me in this ae night,
I’ll no come back again, jo!
O hear’st thou not the wind an’ weet?
Nae star blinks thro’ the driving sleet;
Tak pity on my weary feet,
And shield me frae the rain, jo.
O let me in, &c.
The bitter blast that round me blaws,
Unheeded howls, unheeded fa’s;
The cauldness o’ thy heart’s the cause
Of a’ my care and pine, jo.
O let me in, &c.
HER ANSWERO tell na me o’ wind an’ rain,
Upbraid na me wi’ cauld disdain,
Gae back the gate ye cam again,
I winna let ye in, jo.
Chorus.—I tell you now this ae night,
This ae, ae, ae night;
And ance for a’ this ae night,
I winna let ye in, jo.
The snellest blast, at mirkest hours,
That round the pathless wand’rer pours
Is nocht to what poor she endures,
That’s trusted faithless man, jo.
I tell you now, &c.
The sweetest flower that deck’d the mead,
Now trodden like the vilest weed—
Let simple maid the lesson read
The weird may be her ain, jo.
I tell you now, &c.
The bird that charm’d his summer day,
Is now the cruel Fowler’s prey;
Let witless, trusting, Woman say
How aft her fate’s the same, jo!
I tell you now, &c.
—————
The End
And that’s the End of the Poem
© Poetry Monster, 2021.
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Robert Burns, (born January 25, 1759, Alloway, Ayrshire, Scotland—died July 21, 1796, Dumfries, Dumfriesshire), national poet of Scotland. He wrote lyrics, ballads and songs in Scots and in English. He was also notable for his amorous adventures and his rebellion against religion and morality.