William Miller

The writer of Nursery Songs in "Whistle Binkie," William Miller, was born at Parkhead, Glasgow, about the year 1812. He follows the profession of a cabinet-turner in his native city. "Ye cowe a'," which we subjoin, amply entitles him to a place among the minstrels of his country.

Ye Cowe A'.

Air—"Comin' through the rye."

I wiled my lass wi' lovin' words to Kelvin's leafy shade
And a' that fondest heart can feel, or tongue can tell, I said;
But nae reply my lassie gied—I blamed the waterfa';
Its deavin' soun' her voice might droun'. "Oh, it cowes a'!
Oh, it cowes a'!" quo' I; "oh, it cowes a'!
I wonder how the birds can woo—oh, it cowes a'!"

I wiled my lass wi' lovin' words to Kelvin's solemn grove,
Where silence in her dewy bowers hush'd a' sounds but o' love;
Still frae my earnest looks an' vows she turn'd her head awa';
Nae cheerin' word the silence heard. "Oh, this cowes a'!
Oh, this cowes a'!" quo' I; "oh, this cowes a'!"
To woo I 'll try anither way—for this cowes a'!"

I wiled my lass wi' lovin' words to where the moonlight fell,
Upon a bank o' bloomin' flowers, beside the pear-tree well;
Say, modest moon, did I do wrang to clasp her waist sae sma',
And steal ae kiss o' honey'd bliss? "Oh, ye cowe a'!
Oh, ye cowe a'!" quo' she; "oh, ye cowe a'!
Ye might hae speer'd a body's leave—oh, ye cowe a'!"

"I 'll to the clerk," quo' I, "sweet lass; on Sunday we 'll be cried,
And frae your father's house, next day, ye 'll gang a dear-lo'ed bride."
Quo' she, "I 'd need anither week to mak a gown mair braw;"
"The gown ye hae, we 'll mak it do!" "Oh, ye cowe a'!
Oh, ye cowe a'!" quo' she; "oh, ye cowe a'!
But wilfu' folk maun hae their way—oh, ye cowe a'!"