The Rigs of Rye

'Twas in the month of sweet July
Before the sun had pierced the sky;
Down between two rigs of rye
I heard two lovers talking

Said he, "Lassie, I must away
Along with you I cannot stay
But I've a word or two to say
If you've the time to listen."

"Of your father he takes great care
Your mother combs your yellow hair;
But your sisters say you'll get no share
If you follow me, a stranger."

"My father may fret and my mother may frown
My sisters too I do disown;
If they were all dead and below the ground
I would follow you, a stranger."

"Oh lassie, lassie, your portion's small
Perhaps it may be none at all
You're not a match for me at all
So go and wed with some other."

The lassie's courage began to fail
Her rosy cheeks grew wan and pale;
And the tears come trickling down like hail
Or a heavy shower in the summer

This lad he being of courage fine
He's dried her tears and he's kissed her eyes
Saying, "Weep no more lass, you shall be mine
I said it all to try you."

This couple they are married now
And they have bairnies one and two;
And they live in Brechin the winter through
Aye, and in Montrose in summer