Robert Burns Poems

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I COFT a stane o’ haslock woo’,
To mak a wab to Johnie o’t;
For Johnie is my only jo,
I loe him best of onie yet.


Chorus.—The cardin’ o’t, the spinnin’ o’t,
The warpin’ o’t, the winnin’ o’t;
When ilka ell cost me a groat,
The tailor staw the lynin’ o’t.


For tho’ his locks be lyart grey,
And tho’ his brow be beld aboon,
Yet I hae seen him on a day,
The pride of a’ the parishen.
The cardin o’t, &c.

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