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The Rantin Laddie

A poem by Robert Burns.

Aften hae I play'd at the cards and the dice,
For the love of a bonie rantin laddie;
But now I maun sit in my father's kitchen neuk,
And balou a bastard babie.

For my father he will not me own,
And my mother she neglects me,
And a' my friends hae lightlied me,
And their servants they do slight me.

But had I a servant at my command -
As aft times I've had many,
That wad rin wi' a letter to bonie Glenswood -
Wi' a letter to my rantin laddie.

'Oh, is he either a laird or a lord,
Or is he but a cadie,
That ye do him ca' sae aften by name,
Your bonie, bonie rantin laddie.'

'Indeed he is baith a laird and a lord,
And he never was a cadie,
For he is the Earl o' bonie Aboyne,
And he is my rantin laddie.'

'O ye'se get a servant at your command,
As aft times ye've had many,
That sall rin wi' a letter to bonie Glenswood -
A letter to your rantin laddie.'

When Lord Aboyne did the letter get,
O, but he blinket bonie;
But or he had read three lines or it,
I think his heart was sorry.

'O, wha is he daur be sae bauld,
Sae cruelly to use my lassie?'

'For her father he will not her know,
And her mother she does slight her;
And a' her friends hae lightlied her,
And their servants they neglect her.'

'Go raise to me my five hundred men,
Make haste and make them ready;
With a milkwhite steed under every ane
For to bring hame my lady.'

As they came in through Buchan-shire,
They were a company bonie,
With a gude claymore in every hand
And O, but they shin'd bonie.

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