Brose and Butter

Jenny sits up i' the laft, Jockie wad fain a been at her; But there cam a wind out o' the west Made a' the winnocks to clatter. O Gie my love brose, lasses; O gie my love brose and butter; For nane in Carrick wi' him Can gie a cunt its supper. The laverock lo'es the grass, The paetrick lo'es the stibble: And hey, for the gardiner lad, To gully awa wi' his dibble! My daddie sent me to the hill To pu' my Minnie some heather; An' drive it in your fill, Ye're welcome to the leather. The Mouse is a merry wee beast, The Moudiewart wants the een; And O' for a touch o' the thing I had in my nieve yestreen. We a' were fou yestreen, The night shall be its brither; And hey, for a roaring pin To nail twa wames thegither! O Gie my love brose, lasses; O gie my love brose and butter; For nane in Carrick wi' him Can gie a cunt its supper.