When Januar’ wind was blawing cauld, As to the north I took my way, The mirksome night did me enfauld, I knew na where to lodge till day.
By my good 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, And bade her mak a bed for me.
She made the bed baith large and wide, Wi’ twa white hands she spread it down; She put the cup to her rosy lips, And drank, “Young man, now sleep ye soun’.”
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 wi’ due respect; And, to salute her wi’ a kiss, I put my arms about her neck.
“Haud off your hands, young man,” she says, “And dinna sae uncivil be: Gif ye hae onie love for me, O wrang na 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.
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 owre and owre again, And aye she wist na what to say, I laid her between me and the wa’ — The lassie thought na lang till day.
Upon the morrow when we rase, 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 twinkling in her e’e; I said, “My lassie, dinna cry, For ye aye shall mak the bed to me.”
She took her mither’s Holland sheets, And made them a’ in sarks to me: Blythe and merry may she be, The lass that made the bed to me.
The bonnie lass made the bed to me, The braw lass made the bed to me; I’ll ne’er forget, till the lady I die, The lass that made the bed to me!