Robert Burns

The Yellow, yellow Yorlin'

It fell on a day, in the flow'ry month o' May, All on a merry merry mornin', I met a pretty maid, an' unto her I said, I wad fian fin' your yellow yellow yorlin'. O no, young man, says she, you're a stranger to me, An' I am anither man's darlin', Wha has baith sheep an' cows, that's feedin' in the hows, An' a cock for my yellow yellow yorlin'. But, if I lay you down upon the dewy ground, You wad nae be the waur ae farthing; An' that happy, happy man, he never wou'd ken That I play'd wi' your yellow yellow yorlin'. O fie, young man, says she, I pray you let me be, I wad na for five pound sterling; My mither wad gae mad, an' sae wad my dad, If you play'd wi' my yellow yellow yorlin'. But I took her by the waist, an' I laid her down in haste, For a' her squakin' and squalin'; The lassie soon grew tame, an' bade me come again For to play wi' her yellow yellow yorlin'.

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