I’M Owre Young To Marry Yet

I am my mammie’s ae bairn, Wi’ unco folk I weary, Sir; And lying in a man’s bed, I’m fley’d wad mak me eerie, Sir.

I’m owre young, I’m owre young, I’m owre young to marry yet; I’m owre young, ’twad be a sin To tak me frae my mammie yet.

My mammie coft me a new gown, The kirk maun hae the gracing o’t; Were I to lie wi’ you, kind Sir, I’m fear’d ye’d spoil the lacing o’t.

Hallowmas is come and gane, The nights are lang in winter, Sir; And you an’ I in ae bed, In troth I dare na venture, Sir.

Fu’ loud and shrill the frosty wind Blaws thro’ the leafless timmer, Sir; But if ye come this gate again, I’ll aulder be gin simmer, Sir.

I’m owre young, I’m owre young, I’m owre young to marry yet; I’m owre young, ’twad be a sin To tak me frae my mammie yet.