Had I the Wyte she Bade Me

Had I the wyte, had I the wyte,Had I the wyte she bade me;For she was steward in the house,And I was fit-man laddie;And when I wadna do't again,A silly cow she ca'd me;She straik't my head, and clapt my cheeks.And lous'd my breeks and bade me.

Could I for shame, could I for shame.Could I for shame denied her;Or in the bed was I to blameShe bade me lye beside her:I pat six inches in her wame,A quarter wadna fly'd her;For ay the mair I ca'd it hame.Her ports they grew the wider.

My tartan plaid when it was dark,Could I refuse to share it;She hfted up her holland sark.And bade me fin the gair o't:Or how could I amang the gerse.But gie her hilt and hair o't;She clasped her houghs about my a—e.And ay she glowr'd for mair o't.