Robert Burns - The La** That Made The Bed To Me lyrics

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Robert Burns - The La** That Made The Bed To Me lyrics

When Januar' wind was blawing cauld, As to the north I took my way, The mirksome night did me enfauld, I knew na where to lodge till day: By my gude luck a maid I met, Just in the middle o' my care, And kindly she did me invite To walk into a chamber fair. I bow'd fu' low unto this maid, And thank'd her for her courtesie; I bow'd fu' low unto this maid, An' bade her make a bed to me; She made the bed baith large and wide, Wi' twa white hands she spread it doun; She put the cup to her rosy lips, And drank—"Young man, now sleep ye soun'." Chorus—The bonie la** made the bed to me, The braw la** made the bed to me, I'll ne'er forget till the day I die, The la** that made the bed to me. She snatch'd the candle in her hand, And frae my chamber went wi' speed; But I call'd her quickly back again, To lay some mair below my head: A cod she laid below my head, And served me with due respect, And, to salute her wi' a kiss, I put my arms about her neck. The bonie la**, &c. "Haud aff your hands, young man!" she said, "And dinna sae uncivil be; Gif ye hae ony luve for me, O wrang na my virginitie." Her hair was like the links o' gowd, Her teeth were like the ivorie, Her cheeks like lilies dipt in wine, The la** that made the bed to me: The bonie la**, &c. Her bosom was the driven snaw, Twa drifted heaps sae fair to see; Her limbs the polish'd marble stane, The la** that made the bed to me. I kiss'd her o'er and o'er again, And aye she wist na what to say: I laid her 'tween me and the wa'; The la**ie thocht na lang till day. The bonie la**, &c. Upon the morrow when we raise, I thank'd her for her courtesie; But aye she blush'd and aye she sigh'd, And said, "Alas, ye've ruin'd me." I claps'd her waist, and kiss'd her syne, While the tear stood twinkling in her e'e; I said, my la**ie, dinna cry. For ye aye shall make the bed to me. The bonie la**, &c. She took her mither's holland sheets, An' made them a' in sarks to me; Blythe and merry may she be, The la** that made the bed to me. Chorus—The bonie la** made the bed to me, The braw la** made the bed to me. I'll ne'er forget till the day I die, The la** that made the bed to me.