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Robert Burns - The Lass That Made The Bed To Me
Work rating: Low

When Januar` wind was blawing cauld, 
As to the north I took my way, 
The mirksome night did me enfauld, 
I knew na whare 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 lass made the bed to me, 
          The braw lass made the bed to me, 
          I`ll ne`er forget till the day I die, 
          The lass 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 kis, 
I put my arms about her neck. 
 
Chorus: -… 
 
"Haud aff your hands, young man! she said, 
"And dinna sae uncivil be; 
Gif ye hae ony luve for me, 
O wrang ma my virginitie."  
Her hair was like the links o` gowd, 
Her teeth were like the ivorie, 
Her cheeks like lilies dipt in wine, 
The lass that made the bed to me. 
 
Chorus: -… 
 
Her bosom was the driven snaw, 
Twa drifted heaps sae fair to see; 
Her limbs the polish`d marble stane, 
The lass 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 lassie thocht na lang till day. 
 
Chorus: -… 
 
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 clasp`d her waist, and kiss`d her syne, 
While the tear stood twinklin` in her e`e; 
I said, "My lassie, dinna cry, 
For ye aye shall make the bed to me." 
 
Chorus: -… 
 
She took her mither`s holland sheets, 
An` made them a` in sarks to me; 
Blythe and merry may she be, 
The lass that made the bed to me. 
 
Chorus: -…
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