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O, Leeze Me On My Spinnin-Wheel
TUNE: Sweet's the lass that loves me
(Sweet is the girl that loves me)

 

Burns Original

Standard English Translation

O, Leeze Me On My Spinnin-Wheel

1.
O, leeze me on my spinnin-wheel!
And leeze me on my rock and reel,
Frae tap to tae that cleeds me bien,
And haps me fiel and warm at e'en!
I'll set me down, and sing and spin,
While laigh descends the summer sun,
Blest wi' content, and milk and meal -
O, leeze me on my spinnin-wheel!
2.
On ilka hand the burnies trot,
And meet below my theekit cot,
The scented birk and hawthorn white
Across the pool their arms unite,
Alike to screen the birdie's nest
And little fishes' caller rest.
The sun blinks kindly in the biel,
Where blythe I turn my spinnin-wheel.
3.
On lofty aiks the cushats wail,
And Echo cons the doolfu' tale.
The lintwhites in the hazel braes,
Delighted, rival ither's lays.
The craik amang the claver hay,
The paitrick whirrin o'er the ley,
The swallow jinkin round my shiel,
Amuse me at my spinnin-wheel.
4.
Wi' sma' to sell and less to buy,
Aboon distress, below envy,
O, wha wad leave this humble state
For a' the pride of a' the great?
Amid their flaring, idle toys,
Amid their cumbrous, dinsome joys,
Can they the peace and pleasure feel
Of Bessy at her spinnin-wheel?

O, Dear Is Me On My Spinning-Wheel


O, dear is me on my spinning-wheel!
And dear is me on my distaff and reel,
From top to toe that clothes me well,
And wraps me cosy and warm at evening!
I will set me down, and sing and spin,
While low descends the summer sun,
Blessed with content, and milk and meal -
O, dear is me on my spinning-wheel!

On each hand the streamlets trot,
And meet below my thatched cottage,
The scented birch and hawthorn white
Across the pool their arms unite,
Alike to screen the bird's nest
And little fishes' cooler rest.
The sun glances kindly in the shelter,
Where blythe I turn my spinning-wheel.

On lofty oaks the wild pigeons wail,
And Echo cons the doleful tale.
The linnets in the hazel slopes,
Delighted, rival each other's lays.
The corncrake among the clover hay,
The partridge whirring over the meadow,
The swallow darting round my cottage,
Amuse me at my spinning-wheel.

With little to sell and less to buy,
Above distress, below envy,
O, who would leave this humble state
For all the pride of all the great?
Amid their flaring, idle toys,
Amid their cumbrous, noisy joys,
Can they the peace and pleasure feel
Of Bessy at her spinning-wheel?

 

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