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Johnnie Sangster O,a' the seasons o' the year When we maun wark the sairest, The harvest is the only time, And yet it is the rarest, We rise as seen as mornin' licht, Nae craters can be blither We buckle on oor finger steels And follow oot the scyther. cho: For you, John-nie, you John-nie, You, Johnnie Sangster I'll trim the gavel o' my sheaf For ye're the gallant bandster A mornin' piece to line oor cheek Afore that we gets forder, Wi' cloods o' blue tobacco reek We then set out in order. The sheaves are risin' thick and fast And Johnnie he maun bind them; The busy group, for fear they stick, Can scarcely look behind them. I'll gie ye bands that winna slip I'll pleat them weel and thraw them, I'll lay my leg oot owre the sheaf And draw the band sae handy. Wi' ilka strae as straucht's a rash And that'll be the dandy. If e'er it chance to be my lot To get a gallant bandster I'll gar him wear a gentle coat And bring him gopwd in handfuls. But Johnnie he can please himsel' I wadna wish him blinkit Sae, after he has brewed his ale He can sit doon and drink it. A dainty cowie in the byre, For butter and for cheeses A grump[hie feedin' in the sty Wad keep the hoose in greases A bonnie ewie in the bucht Wad help to creesh the ladle An we'll get tufts o' canie woo Wad help to theek the cradle. From the Scottish Folksinger, Buchan and Hall RG Oct00
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!