To A Nun

Please God, forsake your water and dry bread,
And fling the bitter cress you eat aside.
Put by your rosary. In Mary's name leave chanting creeds
To mildewing monks in Rome.
Spring's at work in gardens bright with sun,
Springtime's not made for living like a nun.
Your faith, my fairest lady, your religion,
Shows but a single face of love's medallion.
Slip on this ring and this green gown, these laces -
The wood is furnitured with resting places.
Hide in the birch tree's shade; upon your knees
Murmur the mass of cuckoos, litanies
Of spring's green foliage. There's no sacrilege
If we find heaven here against the hedge.
Remember Ovid's book and Ovid's truth -
There's such a thing as having too much faith.
Let us discover the shapes, the earthly signs,
Of our true selves, our souls, among the vines.
For surely God and all his saints above,
High in their other heaven, pardon love.

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The Bonny Earl of Murray

YE Highlands and ye Lawlands,
O where hae ye been?
They hae slain the Earl of Murray,
   And hae laid him on the green.

Now wae be to thee, Huntley!
   And whairfore did ye sae!
I bade you bring him wi' you,
   But forbade you him to slay.

He was a braw gallant,
   And he rid at the ring;
Ana the bonny Earl of Murray,
   O he might hae been a king!

He was a braw gallant,
   And he play'd at the ba';
And the bonny Earl of Murray
   Was the flower amang them a'!

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If All the World Were Paper

"If all the world were paper
And all the sea were ink,
If all the trees were bread and cheese
What would we do for drink?

If all the world were sand O,
Oh then what should we lack O,
if as they say there were no clay
How should we take Tobacco?

If all our vessels ran-a,
If none but had a crack-a,
If Spanish apes ate all the grapes
How should we do for sack-a?

If all the world were men
And men lived all in trenches,
And there were none but we alone,
How should we do for wenches?

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Midnight Special

If you evah go to Houston,
You better walk right;
You better not gamble
And you better not fight.
T. Bentley will arrest you,
He'll surely take you down;
Judge Nelson'll sentence you,
Then you're jailhouse bound.

O let the Midnight Special
Shine a light on me,
Let the Midnight Special
Shine a evah lovin' light on me!

Every Monday mawnin',
When the ding-dong rings,
You go to the table,
See the same damn things;
And on the table,
There's a knife an' pan,

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O Death, O Death, Rock Me Asleep

O Death, O Death, rock me asleep,
Bring me to quiet rest;
Let pass my weary guiltless ghost
Out of my careful breast.
Toll on, thou passing bell;
Ring out my doleful knell;
Thy sound my death abroad will tell,
For I must die,
There is no remedy.

My pains, my pains, who can express?
Alas, they are so strong!
My dolours will not suffer strength
My life for to prolong.
Toll on, thou passing bell;
Ring out my doleful knell;
Thy sound my death abroad will tell,
For I must die,
There is no remedy.

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When Flora had O'erfret the Firth

QUHEN Flora had o'erfret the firth
   In May of every moneth queen;
Quhen merle and mavis singis with mirth
   Sweet melling in the shawis sheen;
   Quhen all luvaris rejoicit bene
And most desirous of their prey,
   I heard a lusty luvar mene
--'I luve, but I dare nocht assay!'

'Strong are the pains I daily prove,
   But yet with patience I sustene,
I am so fetterit with the luve
   Only of my lady sheen,
   Quhilk for her beauty micht be queen,
Nature so craftily alway
   Has done depaint that sweet serene:
--Quhom I luve I dare nocht assay.

'She is so bricht of hyd and hue,
   I luve but her alone, I ween;

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Of a rose, a lovely rose, Of a rose is al myn song.

LESTENYT, lordynges, both elde and yinge,
How this rose began to sprynge;
Swych a rose to myn lykynge
   In al this word ne knowe I non.

The Aungil came fro hevene tour,
To grete Marye with gret honour,
And seyde sche xuld bere the flour
   That xulde breke the fyndes bond.

The flour sprong in heye Bedlem,
That is bothe bryht and schen:
The rose is Mary hevene qwyn,
   Out of here bosum the blosme sprong.

The ferste braunche is ful of myht,
That sprang on Cyrstemesse nyht,
The sterre schon over Bedlem bryht
   That is bothe brod and long.

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Preparations

YET if His Majesty, our sovereign lord,
Should of his own accord
Friendly himself invite,
And say 'I'll be your guest to-morrow night,'
How should we stir ourselves, call and command
All hands to work! 'Let no man idle stand!

'Set me fine Spanish tables in the hall;
See they be fitted all;
Let there be room to eat
And order taken that there want no meat.
See every sconce and candlestick made bright,
That without tapers they may give a light.

'Look to the presence: are the carpets spread,
The dazie o'er the head,
The cushions in the chairs,
And all the candles lighted on the stairs?
Perfume the chambers, and in any case
Let each man give attendance in his place!'

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Spring-tide

LENTEN ys come with love to toune,
With blosmen ant with briddes roune,
   That al this blisse bryngeth;
Dayes-eyes in this dales,
Notes suete of nyhtegales,
   Vch foul song singeth;
The threstlecoc him threteth oo,
Away is huere wynter wo,
   When woderove springeth;
This foules singeth ferly fele,
Ant wlyteth on huere winter wele,
   That al the wode ryngeth.

The rose rayleth hire rode,
The leves on the lyhte wode
   Waxen al with wille;
The mone mandeth hire bleo,
The lilie is lossom to seo,
   The fenyl ant the fille;
Wowes this wilde drakes,

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Fair Helen

I wish I were where Helen lies;
Night and day on me she cries;
Oh that I were where Helen lies
On fair Kirconnell lea!

Curst be the heart that thought the thought,
And curst the hand that fired the shot,
When in my arms burd Helen dropt,
And died to succour me!

O think na but my heart was sair
When my Love dropt down and spak nae mair!
I laid her down wi' meikle care
On fair Kirconnell lea.

As I went down the water-side,
None but my foe to be my guide,
None but my foe to be my guide,
On fair Kirconnell lea;

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