My Lord A-Hunting He Is Gane

Chorus.—MY lady's gown, there's gairs upon't, And gowden flowers sae rare upon't; But Jenny's jimps and jirkinet, My lord thinks meikle mair upon't. My lord a-hunting he is gone, But hounds or hawks wi' him are nane; By Colin's cottage lies his game, If Colin's Jenny be at hame. My lady's gown, &c. My lady's white, my lady's red, And kith and kin o' Cassillis' blude; But her ten-pund lands o' tocher gude; Were a' the charms his lordship lo'ed. My lady's gown, &c. Out o'er yon muir, out o'er yon moss, Whare gor-cocks thro' the heather pass, There wons auld Colin's bonie lass, A lily in a wilderness. My lady's gown, &c. Sae sweetly move her genty limbs, Like music notes o'lovers' hymns: The diamond-dew in her een sae blue, Where laughing love sae wanton swims. My lady's gown, &c. My lady's dink, my lady's drest, The flower and fancy o' the west; But the lassie than a man lo'es best, O that's the lass to mak him blest. My lady's gown, &c.