"Behave Yoursel' Before Folk" 725 I wrought that morning out an' out, Her wily glance I'll ne'er forget, The dear, the lovely blinkin' o't Has pierced me through an' through the heart, I tried to sing, I tried to pray, I tried to drown 't wi' drinkin' o't, Nae man can tell what pains I prove, Than ever I was wi' whiskey, O! James Hogg (1770-1835] "BEHAVE YOURSEL' BEFORE FOLK" BEHAVE yoursel' before folk, Behave yoursel' before folk, And dinna be sae rude to me, It wadna gi'e me meikle pain, To tak' a kiss, or grant you ane; But guidsake! no before folk. Behave yoursel' before folk; Consider, lad, how folk will crack, Nor gi'e the tongue o' auld or young It's no through hatred o' a kiss, I'm sure wi' you I've been as free Sic freedom used before folk. Ye tell me that my face is fair; It may be sae-I dinna care- Behave yoursel' before folk; Nor heat my cheeks wi' your mad freaks, But aye be douce before folk. Ye tell me that my lips are sweet, Rory O'More; or, Good Omens 727 To pree their sweets before folk. Behave yoursel' before folk, Behave yoursel' before folk; Gin that's the case, there's time, and place, But surely no before folk. But, gin you really do insist And when we're ane, baith flesh and bane, Alexander Rodger [1784-1846] RORY O'MORE; OR, GOOD OMENS YOUNG Rory O'More courted Kathleen bawn, "With your tricks I don't know, in troth, what I'm about, "Indeed, then," says Kathleen, "don't think of the like, Sure I drame ev'ry night that I'm hating you so!" So, jewel, keep draming that same till you die, "Arrah, Kathleen, my darlint, you've teased me enough, So soft and so white, without freckle or speck, And he looked in her eyes that were beaming with light, And he kissed her sweet lips; don't you think he was right? "Now, Rory, leave off, sir; you'll hug me no more; That's eight times to-day that you've kissed me before." "Then here goes another," says he, "to make sure, For there's luck in odd numbers," says Rory O'More. Samuel Lover [1797-1868] ASK AND HAVE "OH, 'tis time I should talk to your mother, Sweet Mary," says I; "Oh, don't talk to my mother," says Mary, Beginning to cry: "For my mother says men are deceivers, And never, I know, will consent; She says girls in a hurry to marry, At leisure repent." "Then, suppose I would talk to your father, Sweet Mary," says I; "Oh, don't talk to my father," says Mary, Beginning to cry: "For my father he loves me so dearly, He'll never consent I should go If you talk to my father," says Mary, The Plaidie "Then how shall I get you, my jewel? "If your father and mother's so cruel, "Oh, never say die, dear," says Mary; 66 A way now to save you I see; Since my parents are both so contrary- 729 Samuel Lover [1797-1868] KITTY OF COLERAINE As beautiful Kitty one morning was tripping, With a pitcher of milk, from the fair of Coleraine, "Oh! what shall I do now-'twas looking at you, now; I sat down beside her, and gently did chide her, She vowed for such pleasure she'd break it again. 'Twas hay-making season-I can't tell the reason— For very soon after poor Kitty's disaster THE PLAIDIE UPON ane stormy Sunday, Coming adoon the lane, Were a score of bonnie lassies And the sweetest I maintain, That I took un'neath my plaidie, Unknown |