Sanderson, Printer, High Street, Edinburgh [between 1830 and 1910]
'Twas night when the moon luminated the sky, When I first took a notion to marry, I drew to my hat, and away I did hie, You would think I had been in a hurry. When I came to the house where I often had been, My heart gave a leap when my charmer I seen; I pull'd up the latch, and I bid her good e'en, And I said, will you come o'er the mountain?
(She) What notions are these you have got in your head? I am glad to see you so merry; 'Tis twelve by the clock, and I should be in bed, Speak low, or my mother will hear you. (He) But if I be jesting, my jesting is true— We have courted a year, and I think it should do; Before that I sleep, I will marry with you, If you venture with me o'er the mountain.
(She) Oh! well you're in earnest, I say with a sigh, Kind providence will be my director; I have love in my bosom I'll never deny. (He) The sentence does seem to affect her. I'm rising (sic; using?) no magic, no scheme, or no spell— I've a true honest heart, and I love you right well; But if you refuse me, sweet girl, farewell; My steps I'll retrace o'er the mountain.
(She) If I were to make an elopement with you, It might be attended with danger; The country would tattle, and censure me too, My friends they would frown, and no wonder. (He) We'll just let them tattle and censure away, Consult for yourself for it's wearing near day; I don't care a fig what the whole of them say, If I once had you o'er the mountain.
(She) O, well, I'm resolved at home for to stay, I think it far safer and better. (He) Then farewell again, my sweet girl, I'll away, So that puts an end to the matter. (She) Stop, stop a wee moment, till I get my shoes. (He) My heart was rejoiced when I heard this glad news. She flew to the door, saying, I hope you'll excuse My simplicity o'er the mountain.
By that time fair Cynthia had sunk to the west, And the morning star clearly was shining, It's then we pursued our journey in haste, And joined at the altar of Hymen; So it's now in contentment we spend the long day, And the pleasure of it is not soon stole away; We often sit chatting, when we have little to do, Of the trip we took o'er the mountain.