The Poetry of Robert Burns :: :: University of Virginia Library

Young Peggy blooms our boniest lass:
Her blush is like the morning,
The rosy dawn the springing grass
With early gems adorning;
Her eyes outshine the radiant beams
That gild the passing shower,
And glitter o'er the crystal streams,
And cheer each fresh'ning flower.

II

Her lips, more than the cherries bright—
A richer dye has graced them—
They charm the admiring gazer's sight,
And sweetly tempt to taste them.
Her smile is as the evening mild,
When feather'd pairs are courting,
And little lambkins wanton wild,
In playful bands disporting.

III

Were Fortune lovely Peggy's foe,
Such sweetness would relent her:
As blooming Spring unbends the brow
Of surly, savage Winter.
Detraction's eye no aim can gain
Her winning powers to lessen,
And fretful Envy grins in vain
The poison'd tooth to fasten.

IV

Ye Pow'rs of Honour, Love, and Truth,
From ev'ry ill defend her!
Inspire the highly-favour'd youth
The destinies intend her!
Still fan the sweet connubial flame
Responsive in each bosom,
And bless the dear parental name
With many a filial blossom!

BONIE DUNDEE

I

‘O, whar gat ye that hauver-meal bannock?’
‘O silly blind body, O, dinna ye see?
I gat it frae a young, brisk sodger laddie
Between Saint Johnston and bonie Dundee.

O, gin I saw the laddie that gae me't!
Aft has he doudl'd me up on his knee:
May Heaven protect my bonie Scots laddie,
And send him hame to his babie and me!

II

‘My blessin's upon thy sweet, wee lippie!
My blessin's upon thy bonie e'e brie!
Thy smiles are sae like my blythe sodger laddie,
Thou's ay the dearer and dearer to me!
But I'll big a bow'r on yon bonie banks,
Whare Tay rins wimplin by sae clear;
And I'll cleed thee in the tartan sae fine,
And mak thee a man like thy daddie dear.’

TO THE WEAVER'S GIN YE GO

Chorus

To the weaver's gin ye go, fair maids,
To the weaver's gin ye go,
I rede you right, gang ne'er at night,
To the weaver's gin ye go.

I

My heart was ance as blythe and free
As simmer days were lang;
But a bonie, westlin weaver lad
Had gart me change my sang.

II

My mither sent me to the town,
To warp a plaiden wab;
But the weary, weary warpin o't
Has gart me sigh and sab.

III

A bonie, westlin weaver lad
Sat working at his loom;
He took my heart, as wi' a net,
In every knot and thrum.

IV

I sat beside my warpin-wheel,
And ay I ca'd it roun';
And every shot and every knock,
My heart it gae a stoun.

V

The moon was sinking in the west
Wi' visage pale and wan,
As my bonie, westlin weaver lad
Convoy'd me thro' the glen.

VI

But what was said, or what was done,
Shame fa' me gin I tell;
But O! I fear the kintra soon
Will ken as weel's mysel!

Chorus

To the weaver's gin ye go, fair maids,
To the weaver's gin ye go,
I rede you right, gang ne'er at night,
To the weaver's gin ye go.

O, WHISTLE AN' I'LL COME TO YE, MY LAD

Chorus

O, whistle an' I'll come to ye, my lad!
O, whistle an' I'll come to ye, my lad!
Tho' father an' mother an' a' should gae mad,
O, whistle an' I'll come to ye, my lad!

I

But warily tent when ye come to court me,
And come nae unless the back-yett be a-jee;
Syne up the back-style, and let naebody see,
And come as ye were na comin to me,
And come as ye were na comin to me!

II

At kirk, or at market, whene'er ye meet me,
Gang by me as tho' that ye car'd na a flie;
But steal me a blink o' your bonie black e'e,
Yet look as ye were na lookin to me,
Yet look as ye were na lookin to me!

III

Ay vow and protest that ye care na for me,
And whyles ye may lightly my beauty a wee;
But court na anither tho' jokin ye be,
For fear that she wyle your fancy frae me,
For fear that she wyle your fancy frae me!

Chorus

O, whistle an' I'll come to ye, my lad!
O, whistle an' I'll come to ye, my lad!
Tho' father an' mother an' a' should gae mad,
O, whistle an' I'll come to ye, my lad!

I'M O'ER YOUNG TO MARRY YET

Chorus

I'm o'er young, I'm o'er young,
I'm o'er young to marry yet!
I'm o'er young, 'twad be a sin
To tak me frae my mammie yet.

I

I am my mammie's ae bairn,
Wi' unco folk I weary, Sir,
And lying in a man's bed,
I'm fley'd it make me eerie, Sir.

II

Hallowmass is come and gane,
The nights are lang in winter, Sir,
And you an' I in ae bed—
In trowth, I dare na venture, Sir!

III

Fu' loud and shrill the frosty wind
Blaws thro' the leafless timmer, Sir,
But if ye come this gate again,
I'll aulder be gin simmer, Sir.

Chorus

I'm o'er young, I'm o'er young,
I'm o'er young to marry yet!
I'm o'er young, 'twad be a sin
To tak me frae my mammie yet.

THE BIRKS OF ABERFELDIE

Chorus

Bonie lassie, will ye go,
Will ye go, will ye go?
Bonie lassie, will ye go
To the birks of Aberfeldie?

I

Now simmer blinks on flow'ry braes,
And o'er the crystal streamlets plays,
Come, let us spend the lightsome days
In the birks of Aberfeldie!

II

The little birdies blythely sing,
While o'er their heads the hazels hing,
Or lightly flit on wanton wing
In the birks of Aberfeldie.

III

The braes ascend like lofty wa's,
The foaming stream, deep-roaring, fa's
O'er hung with fragrant-spreading shaws,
The birks of Aberfeldie.

IV

The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi' flowers,
White o'er the linns the burnie pours,
And, rising, weets wi' misty showers
The birks of Aberfeldie.

V

Let Fortune's gifts at random flee,
They ne'er shall draw a wish frae me,
Supremely blest wi' love and thee
In the birks of Aberfeldie.

Chorus

Bonie lassie, will ye go,
Will ye go, will ye go?
Bonie lassie, will ye go
To the birks of Aberfeldie?

M'PHERSON'S FAREWELL

Chorus

Sae rantingly, sae wantonly,
Sae dauntingly gaed he,
He play'd a spring, and danc'd it round
Below the gallows-tree.

I

Farewell, ye dungeons dark and strong,
The wretch's destinie!
M'Pherson's time will not be long
On yonder gallows-tree.

II

O, what is death but parting breath?
On many a bloody plain
I've dar'd his face, and in this place
I scorn him yet again!

III

Untie these bands from off my hands,
And bring to me my sword,
And there's no a man in all Scotland
But I'll brave him at a word.

IV

I've liv'd a life of sturt and strife;
I die by treacherie:
It burns my heart I must depart,
And not avengèd be.

V

Now farewell light, thou sunshine bright,
And all beneath the sky!
May coward shame distain his name,
The wretch that dare not die!

Chorus

Sae rantingly, sae wantonly,
Sae dauntingly gaed he,
He play'd a spring, and danc'd it round
Below the gallows-tree.

MY HIGHLAND LASSIE, O

Chorus

Within the glen sae bushy, O,
Aboon the plain sae rashy, O,
I set me down wi' right guid will
To sing my Highland lassie, O!

I

Nae gentle dames, tho' ne'er sae fair,
Shall ever be my Muse's care:
Their titles a' are empty show—
Gie me my Highland lassie, O!

II

O, were yon hills and vallies mine,
Yon palace and yon gardens fine,
The world then the love should know
I bear my Highland lassie, O!

III

But fickle Fortune frowns on me,
And I maun cross the raging sea;
But while my crimson currents flow
I'll love my Highland lassie, O.

IV

Altho' thro' foreign climes I range,
I know her heart will never change;
For her bosom burns with honour's glow,
My faithful Highland lassie, O.

V

For her I'll dare the billows' roar,
For her I'll trace a distant shore,
That Indian wealth may lustre throw
Around my Highland lassie, O.

VI

She has my heart, she has my hand,
My secret troth and honour's band!
'Till the mortal stroke shall lay me low,
I'm thine, my Highland lassie, O!

Chorus

Farewell the glen sae bushy, O!
Farewell the plain sae rashy, O!
To other lands I now must go
To sing my Highland lassie, O.

THO' CRUEL FATE

Tho' cruel fate should bid us part
Far as the pole and line,
Her dear idea round my heart
Should tenderly entwine.
Tho' mountains rise, and deserts howl,
And oceans roar between,
Yet dearer than my deathless soul
I still would love my Jean.

STAY, MY CHARMER

I

Stay, my charmer, can you leave me?
Cruel, cruel to deceive me!
Well you know how much you grieve me:
Cruel charmer, can you go?
Cruel charmer, can you go?

II

By my love so ill-requited,
By the faith you fondly plighted,
By the pangs of lovers slighted,
Do not, do not leave me so!
Do not, do not leave me so!

STRATHALLAN'S LAMENT

I

Thickest night, surround my dwelling!
Howling tempests, o'er me rave!
Turbid torrents wintry-swelling,
Roaring by my lonely cave!
Crystal streamlets gently flowing,
Busy haunts of base mankind,
Western breezes softly blowing,
Suit not my distracted mind.

II

In the cause of Right engagèd,
Wrongs injurious to redress,
Honour's war we strongly wagèd,
But the heavens deny'd success.
Ruin's wheel has driven o'er us:
Not a hope that dare attend,
The wide world is all before us,
But a world without a friend.

MY HOGGIE

I

What will I do gin my hoggie die?
My joy, my pride, my hoggie!
My only beast, I had nae mae,
And vow but I was vogie!
The lee-lang night we watched the fauld,
Me and my faithfu' doggie;
We heard nocht but the roaring linn
Amang the braes sae scroggie.

II

But the houlet cry'd frae the castle wa',
The blitter frae the boggie,
The tod reply'd upon the hill:
I trembled for my hoggie.
When day did daw, and cocks did craw,
The morning it was foggie,
An unco tyke lap o'er the dyke,
And maist has kill'd my hoggie!

JUMPIN JOHN

Chorus

The lang lad they ca' Jumpin John
Beguil'd the bonie lassie!
The lang lad they ca' Jumpin John
Beguil'd the bonie lassie!

I

Her daddie forbad, her minnie forbad;
Forbidden she wadna be:
She wadna trow't, the browst she brew'd
Wad taste sae bitterlie!

II

A cow and a cauf, a yowe and a hauf,
And thretty guid shillins and three:
A vera guid tocher! a cotter-man's dochter,
The lass with the bonie black e'e!

Chorus

The lang lad they ca' Jumpin John
Beguil'd the bonie lassie!
The lang lad they ca' Jumpin John
Beguil'd the bonie lassie!

UP IN THE MORNING EARLY

Chorus

Up in the morning's no for me,
Up in the morning early!
When a' the hills are covered wi' snaw,
I'm sure it's winter fairly!

I

Cauld blaws the wind frae east to west,
The drift is driving sairly,
Sae loud and shrill's I hear the blast—
I'm sure it's winter fairly!

II

The birds sit chittering in the thorn,
A' day they fare but sparely;
And lang's the night frae e'en to morn—
I'm sure it's winter fairly.

Chorus

Up in the morning's no for me,
Up in the morning early!
When a' the hills are cover'd wi' snaw,
I'm sure it's winter fairly!

THE YOUNG HIGHLAND ROVER

I

Loud blaw the frosty breezes,
The snaws the mountains cover.
Like winter on me seizes,
Since my young Highland rover
Far wanders nations over.

Where'er he go, where'er he stray,
May Heaven be his warden!
Return him safe to fair Strathspey
And bonie Castle Gordon!

II

The trees, now naked groaning,
Shall soon wi' leaves be hinging,
The birdies, dowie moaning,
Shall a' be blythely singing,
And every flower be springing:
Sae I'll rejoice the lee-lang day,
When (by his mighty Warden)
My youth's return'd to fair Strathspey
And bonie Castle Gordon.

THE DUSTY MILLER

I

Hey the dusty miller
And his dusty coat!
He will spend a shilling
Or he win a groat.
Dusty was the coat,
Dusty was the colour,
Dusty was the kiss
That I gat frae the miller!

II

Hey the dusty miller
And his dusty sack!
Leeze me on the calling
Fills the dusty peck!
Fills the dusty peck,
Brings the dusty siller!
I wad gie my coatie
For the dusty miller!

I DREAM'D I LAY

I

I dream'd I lay where flowers were springing
Gaily in the sunny beam,
List'ning to the wild birds singing,
By a falling crystal stream;
Straight the sky grew black and daring,
Thro' the woods the whirlwinds rave,
Trees with agèd arms were warring
O'er the swelling, drumlie wave.

II

Such was my life's deceitful morning,
Such the pleasures I enjoy'd!
But lang or noon loud tempests, storming,
A' my flowery bliss destroy'd.

Tho' fickle Fortune has deceiv'd me
(She promis'd fair, and perform'd but ill),
Of monie a joy and hope bereav'd me,
I bear a heart shall support me still.

DUNCAN DAVISON

I

There was a lass, they ca'd her Meg,
And she held o'er the moors to spin;
There was a lad that follow'd her,
They ca'd him Duncan Davison.
The moor was dreigh, and Meg was skeigh,
Her favour Duncan could na win;
For wi' the rock she wad him knock,
And ay she shook the temper-pin.

II

As o'er the moor they lightly foor,
A burn was clear, a glen was green;
Upon the banks they eas'd their shanks,
And ay she set the wheel between:
But Duncan swoor a haly aith,
That Meg should be a bride the morn;
Then Meg took up her spinnin-graith,
And flang them a' out o'er the burn.

III

We will big a wee, wee house,
And we will live like king and queen,
Sae blythe and merry's we will be,
When ye set by the wheel at e'en!
A man may drink, and no be drunk;
A man may fight, and no be slain;
A man may kiss a bonie lass,
And ay be welcome back again!

THENIEL MENZIES' BONIE MARY

Chorus

Theniel Menzies' bonie Mary,
Theniel Menzies' bonie Mary,
Charlie Grigor tint his plaidie,
Kissin Theniel's bonie Mary!

I

In comin by the brig o' Dye,
At Darlet we a blink did tarry;
As day was dawin in the sky,
We drank a health to bonie Mary.

II

Her een sae bright, her brow sae white,
Her haffet locks as brown's a berry,
And ay they dimpl't wi' a smile,
The rosy cheeks o' bonie Mary.

III

We lap an' danc'd the lee-lang day,
Till piper-lads were wae and weary;
But Charlie gat the spring to pay,
For kissin Theniel's bonie Mary.

Chorus

Theniel Menzies' bonie Mary,
Theniel Menzies' bonie Mary,
Charlie Grigor tint his plaidie,
Kissin Theniel's bonie Mary!

LADY ONLIE, HONEST LUCKY

Chorus

Lady Onlie, honest lucky,
Brews guid ale at shore o' Bucky:
I wish her sale for her guid ale,
The best on a' the shore o' Bucky!

I

A' the lads o' Thorniebank,
When they gae to the shore o' Bucky,
They'll step in an' tak a pint
Wi' Lady Onlie, honest lucky.

II

Her house sae bien, her curch sae clean
I wat she is a dainty chuckie,
And cheery blinks the ingle-gleede
O' Lady Onlie, honest lucky!

Chorus

Lady Onlie, honest lucky,
Brews guid ale at shore o' Bucky:
I wish her sale for her guid ale,
The best on a' the shore o' Bucky!

THE BANKS OF THE DEVON

I

How pleasant the banks of the clear winding Devon,
With green spreading bushes and flow'rs blooming fair!
But the boniest flow'r on the banks of the Devon
Was once a sweet bud on the braes of the Ayr.
Mild be the sun on this sweet blushing flower,
In the gay rosy morn, as it bathes in the dew!
And gentle the fall of the soft vernal shower,
That steals on the evening each leaf to renew!

II

O, spare the dear blossom, ye orient breezes,
With chill, hoary wing as ye usher the dawn!
And far be thou distant, thou reptile that seizes
The verdure and pride of the garden or lawn!

Let Bourbon exult in his gay gilded lilies,
And England triumphant display her proud rose!
A fairer than either adorns the green vallies,
Where Devon, sweet Devon, meandering flows.

DUNCAN GRAY

I

Weary fa' you, Duncan Gray!
(Ha, ha, the girdin o't!)
Wae gae by you, Duncan Gray!
(Ha, ha, the girdin o't!)
When a' the lave gae to their play,
Then I maun sit the lee-lang day,
And jeeg the cradle wi' my tae,
And a' for the girdin o't!

II

Bonie was the Lammas moon
(Ha, ha, the girdin o't!),
Glowrin a' the hills aboon
(Ha, ha, the girdin o't!).
The girdin brak, the beast cam down,
I tint my curch and baith my shoon,
And, Duncan, ye're an unco loun—
Wae on the bad girdin o't!

III

But Duncan, gin ye'll keep your aith
(Ha, ha, the girdin o't!),
I'se bless you wi' my hindmost breath
(Ha, ha, the girdin o't!).
Duncan, gin ye'll keep your aith,
The beast again can bear us baith,
And auld Mess John will mend the skaith
And clout the bad girdin o't.

THE PLOUGHMAN

Chorus

Then up wi't a', my ploughman lad,
And hey, my merry ploughman!
Of a' the trades that I do ken,
Commend me to the ploughman!

I

The ploughman, he's a bonie lad,
His mind is ever true, jo!
His garters knit below his knee,
His bonnet it is blue, jo.

II

I hae been east, I hae been west,
I hae been at St. Johnston;
The boniest sight that e'er I saw
Was the ploughman laddie dancin.

III

Snaw-white stockings on his legs
And siller buckles glancin,
A guid blue bonnet on his head,
And O, but he was handsome!

IV

Commend me to the barn-yard
And the corn mou, man!
I never got my coggie fou
Till I met wi' the ploughman.

Chorus

Then up wi't a', my ploughman lad,
And hey, my merry ploughman!
Of a' the trades that I do ken,
Commend me to the ploughman!

LANDLADY, COUNT THE LAWIN

Chorus

Hey tutti, taiti,
How tutti, taiti,
Hey tutti, taiti,
Wha's fou now?

I

Landlady, count the lawin,
The day is near the dawin;
Ye're a' blind drunk, boys,
And I'm but jolly fou.

II

Cog, an ye were ay fou,
Cog, an ye were ay fou,
I wad sit and sing to you,
If ye were ay fou!

III

Weel may ye a' be!
Ill may ye never see!
God bless the king
And the companie!

Chorus

Hey tutti, taiti,
How tutti, taiti,
Hey tutti, taiti,
Wha's fou now?

RAVING WINDS AROUND HER BLOWING

I

Raving winds around her blowing,
Yellow leaves the woodlands strowing.
By a river hoarsely roaring,
Isabella stray'd deploring:—
‘Farewell hours that late did measure
Sunshine days of joy and pleasure!
Hail, thou gloomy night of sorrow—
Cheerless night that knows no morrow!

II

‘O'er the Past too fondly wandering,
On the hopeless Future pondering,
Chilly Grief my life-blood freezes,
Fell Despair my fancy seizes.
Life, thou soul of every blessing,
Load to Misery most distressing,
Gladly how would I resign thee,
And to dark Oblivion join thee!’

HOW LANG AND DREARY IS THE NIGHT

Chorus

For O, her lanely nights are lang,
And O, her dreams are eerie,
And O, her widow'd heart is sair,
That's absent frae her dearie!

I

How lang and dreary is the night,
When I am frae my dearie!
I restless lie frae e'en to morn,
Tho' I were ne'er sae weary.

II

When I think on the lightsome days
I spent wi' thee, my dearie,
And now what seas between us roar,
How can I be but eerie?

III

How slow ye move, ye heavy hours!
The joyless day how dreary!
It was na sae ye glinted by,
When I was wi' my dearie!

Chorus

For O, her lanely nights are lang,
And O, her dreams are eerie,
And O, her widow'd heart is sair,
That's absent frae her dearie!

MUSING ON THE ROARING OCEAN

I

Musing on the roaring ocean,
Which divides my love and me,
Wearying heav'n in warm devotion
For his weal where'er he be:

II

Hope and Fear's alternate billow
Yielding late to Nature's law,
Whispering spirits round my pillow,
Talk of him that's far awa.

III

Ye whom sorrow never wounded,
Ye who never shed a tear,

Care-untroubled, joy-surrounded,
Gaudy day to you is dear!

IV

Gentle night, do thou befriend me!
Downy sleep, the curtain draw!
Spirits kind, again attend me,
Talk of him that's far awa!

BLYTHE WAS SHE

Chorus

Blythe, blythe and merry was she,
Blythe was she butt and ben,
Blythe by the banks of Earn,
And blythe in Glenturit glen!

I

By Oughtertyre grows the aik,
On Yarrow banks the birken shaw;
But Phemie was a bonier lass
Than braes o' Yarrow ever saw.

II

Her looks were like a flow'r in May,
Her smile was like a simmer morn.
She trippèd by the banks o' Earn
As light's a bird upon a thorn.

III

Her bonie face it was as meek
As onie lamb upon a lea.
The evening sun was ne'er sae sweet
As was the blink o' Phemie's e'e.

IV

The Highland hills I've wander'd wide,
As o'er the Lawlands I hae been,
But Phemie was the blythest lass
That ever trod the dewy green.

Chorus

Blythe, blythe and merry was she,
Blythe was she butt and ben,
Blythe by the banks of Earn,
And blythe in Glenturit Glen!

TO DAUNTON ME

Chorus

To daunton me, to daunton me,
An auld man shall never daunton me!

I

The blude-red rose at Yule may blaw,
The simmer lilies bloom in snaw,
The frost may freeze the deepest sea,
But an auld man shall never daunton me.

II

To daunton me, and me sae young,
Wi' his fause heart and flatt'ring tongue:
That is the thing you ne'er shall see,
For an auld man shall never daunton me.

III

For a' his meal and a' his maut,
For a' his fresh beef and his saut,
For a' his gold and white moníe,
An auld man shall never daunton me.

IV

His gear may buy him kye and yowes,
His gear may buy him glens and knowes;
But me he shall not buy nor fee,
For an auld man shall never daunton me.

V

He hirples twa-fauld as he dow,
Wi' his teethless gab and his auld beld pow,
And the rain rains down frae his red blear'd e'e—
That auld man shall never daunton me!

Chorus

To daunton me, to daunton me,
An auld man shall never daunton me!

O'ER THE WATER TO CHARLIE

Chorus

We'll o'er the water, we'll o'er the sea,
We'll o'er the water to Charlie!
Come weal, come woe, we'll gather and go,
And live and die wi' Charlie!

I

Come boat me o'er, come row me o'er,
Come boat me o'er to Charlie!
I'll gie John Ross another bawbee
To boat me o'er to Charlie.

II

I lo'e weel my Charlie's name,
Tho' some there be abhor him;
But O, to see Auld Nick gaun hame,
And Charlie's faes before him!

III

I swear and vow by moon and stars
And sun that shines so early,
If I had twenty thousand lives,
I'd die as aft for Charlie!

Chorus

We'll o'er the water, we'll o'er the sea,
We'll o'er the water to Charlie!
Come weal, come woe, we'll gather and go,
And live and die wi' Charlie!

A ROSE-BUD, BY MY EARLY WALK

I

A rose-bud, by my early walk
Adown a corn-inclosèd bawk,
Sae gently bent its thorny stalk,
All on a dewy morning.
Ere twice the shades o' dawn are fled,
In a' its crimson glory spread
And drooping rich the dewy head,
It scents the early morning.

II

Within the bush her covert nest
A little linnet fondly prest,
The dew sat chilly on her breast,
Sae early in the morning.
She soon shall see her tender brood,
The pride, the pleasure o' the wood,
Amang the fresh green leaves bedew'd,
Awake the early morning.

III

So thou, dear bird, young Jeany fair,
On trembling string or vocal air
Shall sweetly pay the tender care
That tents thy early morning!
So thou, sweet rose-bud, young and gay,
Shalt beauteous blaze upon the day,
And bless the parent's evening ray
That watch'd thy early morning!

AND I'LL KISS THEE YET

Chorus

And I'll kiss thee yet, yet,
And I'll kiss thee o'er again,
And I'll kiss thee yet, yet,
My bonie Peggy Alison.

I

When in my arms, wi' a' thy charms,
I clasp my countless treasure, O,
I seek nae mair o' Heav'n to share
Than sic a moment's pleasure, O!

II

And by thy een sae bonie blue
I swear I'm thine for ever, O!
And on thy lips I seal my vow,
And break it shall I never, O!

Chorus

And I'll kiss thee yet, yet,
And I'll kiss thee o'er again,
And I'll kiss thee yet, yet,
My bonie Peggy Alison

RATTLIN, ROARIN WILLIE

I

O, rattlin, roarin Willie,
O, he held to the fair,
An' for to sell his fiddle
And buy some other ware;
But parting wi' his fiddle,
The saut tear blin't his e'e—
And, rattlin, roarin Willie,
Ye're welcome hame to me!

II

‘O Willie, come sell your fiddle,
O, sell your fiddle sae fine!
O Willie come sell your fiddle
And buy a pint o' wine!’
‘If I should sell my fiddle,
The warld would think I was mad;
For monie a rantin day
My fiddle and I hae had.’

III

As I cam by Crochallan,
I cannily keekit ben,
Rattlin, roarin Willie
Was sitting at yon boord-en':
Sitting at yon boord-en',
And amang guid companie!
Rattlin, roarin Willie,
Ye're welcome hame to me.

WHERE, BRAVING ANGRY WINTER'S STORMS

I

Where, braving angry winter's storms,
The lofty Ochils rise,
Far in their shade my Peggy's charms
First blest my wondering eyes:
As one who by some savage stream
A lonely gem surveys,
Astonish'd doubly, marks it beam
With art's most polish'd blaze.

II

Blest be the wild, sequester'd glade,
And blest the day and hour,
Where Peggy's charms I first survey'd,
When first I felt their pow'r!

The tyrant Death with grim control
May seize my fleeting breath,
But tearing Peggy from my soul
Must be a stronger death.

O TIBBIE, I HAE SEEN THE DAY

Chorus

O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,
Ye wadna been sae shy!
For laik o' gear ye lightly me,
But, trowth, I care na by.

I

Yestreen I met you on the moor,
Ye spak na, but gaed by like stoure!
Ye geck at me because I'm poor—
But fient a hair care I!

II

When comin hame on Sunday last,
Upon the road as I cam past,
Ye snufft an' gae your head a cast—
But, trowth, I care't na by!

III

I doubt na, lass, but ye may think,
Because ye hae the name o' clink,
That ye can please me at a wink,
Whene'er ye like to try.

IV

But sorrow tak him that's sae mean,
Altho' his pouch o' coin were clean,
Wha follows onie saucy quean,
That looks sae proud and high!

V

Altho' a lad were e'er sae smart,
If that he want the yellow dirt,
Ye'll cast your head anither airt,
And answer him fu' dry.

VI

But if he hae the name o' gear,
Ye'll fasten to him like a brier,
Tho' hardly he for sense or lear
Be better than the kye.

VII

But, Tibbie, lass, tak my advice:
Your daddie's gear maks you sae nice,
The Deil a ane wad spier your price,
Were ye as poor as I.

VIII

There lives a lass beside yon park,
I'd rather hae her in her sark
Than you wi' a' your thousand mark,
That gars you look sae high.

Chorus

O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,
Ye wadna been sae shy!
For laik o' gear ye lightly me,
But, trowth, I care na by.

CLARINDA, MISTRESS OF MY SOUL

I

Clarinda, mistress of my soul,
The measur'd time is run!
The wretch beneath the dreary pole
So marks his latest sun.

II

To what dark cave of frozen night
Shall poor Sylvander hie,
Depriv'd of thee, his life and light,
The sun of all his joy?

III

We part—but, by these precious drops
That fill thy lovely eyes,
No other light shall guide my steps
Till thy bright beams arise!

IV

She, the fair sun of all her sex,
Has blest my glorious day;
And shall a glimmering planet fix
My worship to its ray?

THE WINTER IT IS PAST

I

The winter it is past, and the simmer comes at last,
And the small birds sing on ev'ry tree:
The hearts of these are glad, but mine is very sad,
For my love is parted from me.

II

The rose upon the brier by the waters running clear
May have charms for the linnet or the bee:
Their little loves are blest, and their little hearts at rest,
But my lover is parted from me.

III

My love is like the sun in the firmament does run—
Forever is constant and true;
But his is like the moon, that wanders up and down,
And every month it is new.

IV

All you that are in love, and cannot it remove,
I pity the pains you endure,
For experience makes me know that your hearts are full of woe,
A woe that no mortal can cure.

I LOVE MY LOVE IN SECRET

Chorus

My Sandy O, my Sandy O,
My bonie, bonie Sandy O!
Tho' the love that I owe
To thee I dare na show,
Yet I love my love in secret,
My Sandy O!

I

My Sandy gied to me a ring
Was a' beset wi' diamonds fine;
But I gied him a far better thing,
I gied my heart in pledge o' his ring.

II

My Sandy brak a piece o' gowd,
While down his cheeks the saut tears row'd;
He took a hauf, and gied it to me,
And I'll keep it till the hour I die.

Chorus

My Sandy O, my Sandy O,
My bonie, bonie Sandy O!
Tho' the love that I owe
To thee I dare na show,
Yet I love my love in secret,
My Sandy O!

SWEET TIBBIE DUNBAR

I

O, wilt thou go wi' me, sweet Tibbie Dunbar?
O, wilt thou go wi' me, sweet Tibbie Dunbar?
Wilt thou ride on a horse, or be drawn in a car,
Or walk by my side, O sweet Tibbie Dunbar?

II

I care na thy daddie, his lands and his money;
I care na thy kin, sae high and sae lordly;
But say that thou'lt hae me for better or waur,
And come in thy coatie, sweet Tibbie Dunbar.

HIGHLAND HARRY

Chorus

O, for him back again!
O, for him back again!
I wad gie a' Knockhaspie's land
For Highland Harry back again.

I

My Harry was a gallant gay,
Fu' stately strade he on the plain,
But now he's banish'd far away:
I'll never see him back again.

II

When a' the lave gae to their bed,
I wander dowie up the glen,
I set me down, and greet my fill,
And ay I wish him back again.

III

O, were some villains hangit high,
And ilka body had their ain,
Then I might see the joyfu' sight,
My Highland Harry back again!

Chorus

O, for him back again!
O, for him back again!
I wad gie a' Knockhaspie's land,
For Highland Harry back again.

THE TAILOR FELL THRO' THE BED

I

The tailor fell thro' the bed, thimble an' a',
The tailor fell thro' the bed, thimble an' a';
The blankets were thin, and the sheets they were sma'—
The tailor fell thro' the bed, thimble an' a'!

II

The sleepy bit lassie, she dreaded nae ill,
The sleepy bit lassie, she dreaded nae ill;
The weather was cauld, and the lassie lay till:
She thought that a tailor could do her nae ill!

III

Gie me the groat again, cannie young man!
Gie me the groat again, cannie young man!
The day it is short, and the night it is lang—
The dearest siller that ever I wan!

IV

There's somebody weary wi' lying her lane,
There's somebody weary wi' lying her lane!
There's some that are dowie, I trow wad be fain
To see the bit tailor come skippin again.

AY WAUKIN, O

Chorus

Ay waukin, O,
Waukin still and weary:
Sleep I can get nane
For thinking on my dearie.

I

Simmer's a pleasant time:
Flowers of every colour,
The water rins owre the heugh,
And I long for my true lover.

II

When I sleep I dream,
When I wauk I'm eerie,
Sleep I can get nane
For thinkin on my dearie.

III

Lanely night comes on,
A' the lave are sleepin,
I think on my bonie lad,
And I bleer my een wi' greetin.

Chorus

Ay waukin, O,
Waukin still and weary:
Sleep I can get nane
For thinking on my dearie.

BEWARE O' BONIE ANN

I

Ye gallants bright, I rede you right,
Beware o' bonie Ann!
Her comely face sae fu' o' grace,
Your heart she will trepan.

II

Her een sae bright like stars by night,
Her skin is like the swan.
Sae jimply lac'd her genty waist
That sweetly ye might span.

III

Youth, Grace, and Love attendant move,
And Pleasure leads the van:
In a' their charms, and conquering arms,
They wait on bonie Ann.

IV

The captive bands may chain the hands.
But Love enslaves the man:
Ye gallants braw, I rede you a',
Beware o' bonie Ann!

LADDIE, LIE NEAR ME

Chorus

Near me, near me,
Laddie, lie near me!
Lang hae I lain my lane—
Laddie, lie near me!

I

Lang hae we parted been,
Laddie, my dearie;
Now we are met again—
Laddie, lie near me!

II

A' that I hae endur'd,
Laddie, my dearie,
Here in thy arms is cur'd—
Laddie, lie near me!

Chorus

Near me, near me,
Laddie, lie near me!
Lang hae I lain my lane—
Laddie, lie near me!

THE GARD'NER WI' HIS PAIDLE

I

When rosy May comes in wi' flowers
To deck her gay, green-spreading bowers,
Then busy, busy are his hours,
The gard'ner wi' his paidle.

II

The crystal waters gently fa',
The merry birds are lovers a',
The scented breezes round him blaw—
The gard'ner wi' his paidle.

III

When purple morning starts the hare
To steal upon her early fare,
Then thro' the dew he maun repair—
The gard'ner wi' his paidle.

IV

When Day, expiring in the west,
The curtain draws o' Nature's rest,
He flies to her arms he lo'es best,
The gard'ner wi' his paidle.

ON A BANK OF FLOWERS

I

On a bank of flowers in a summer day,
For summer lightly drest,
The youthful, blooming Nelly lay
With love and sleep opprest;
When Willie, wand'ring thro' the wood,
Who for her favour oft had sued—
He gaz'd, he wish'd,
He fear'd, he blush'd,
And trembled where he stood.

II

Her closèd eyes, like weapons sheath'd,
Were seal'd in soft repose;
Her lips, still as she fragrant breath'd,
It richer dyed the rose;
The springing lilies, sweetly prest,
Wild-wanton kiss'd her rival breast:
He gaz'd, he wish'd,
He fear'd, he blush'd,
His bosom ill at rest.

III

Her robes, light-waving in the breeze,
Her tender limbs embrace;
Her lovely form, her native ease,
All harmony and grace.
Tumultuous tides his pulses roll,
A faltering, ardent kiss he stole:
He gaz'd, he wish'd,
He fear'd, he blush'd,
And sigh'd his very soul.

IV

As flies the partridge from the brake
On fear-inspired wings,
So Nelly starting, half-awake,
Away affrighted springs.
But Willie follow'd—as he should;
He overtook her in the wood;
He vow'd, he pray'd,
He found the maid
Forgiving all, and good.

THE DAY RETURNS

I

The day returns, my bosom burns,
The blissful day we twa did meet!
Tho' winter wild in tempest toil'd,
Ne'er summer sun was half sae sweet.

Than a' the pride that loads the tide,
And crosses o'er the sultry line,
Than kingly robes, than crowns and globes,
Heav'n gave me more—it made thee mine!

II

While day and night can bring delight,
Or Nature aught of pleasure give,
While joys above my mind can move,
For thee, and thee alone, I live!
When that grim foe of Life below
Comes in between to make us part,
The iron hand that breaks our band,
It breaks my bliss, it breaks my heart!

MY LOVE, SHE'S BUT A LASSIE YET

Chorus

My love, she's but a lassie yet,
My love, she's but a lassie yet!
We'll let her stand a year or twa,
She'll no be half sae saucy yet!

I

I rue the day I sought her, O!
I rue the day I sought her, O!
Wha gets her need na say he's woo'd,
But he may say he has bought her, O.

II

Come draw a drap o' the best o't yet,
Come draw a drap o' the best o't yet!
Gae seek for pleasure whare ye will,
But here I never missed it yet.

III

We're a' dry wi' drinkin o't,
We're a' dry wi' drinkin o't!
The minister kiss't the fiddler's wife—
He could na preach for thinkin o't!

Chorus

My love, she's but a lassie yet,
My love, she's but a lassie yet!
We'll let her stand a year or twa,
She'll no be half sae saucy yet!

JAMIE, COME TRY ME

Chorus

Jamie, come try me,
Jamie, come try me!
If thou would win my love,
Jamie, come try me!

I

If thou should ask my love,
Could I deny thee?
If thou would win my love,
Jamie, come try me!

II

If thou should kiss me, love,
Wha could espy thee?
If thou wad be my love,
Jamie, come try me!

Chorus

Jamie, come try me,
Jamie, come try me!
If thou would win my love,
Jamie, come try me!

THE SILVER TASSIE

I

Go, fetch to me a pint o' wine,
And fill it in a silver tassie,
That I may drink before I go
A service to my bonie lassie!
The boat rocks at the pier o' Leith,
Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the Ferry,
The ship rides by the Berwick-Law,
And I maun leave my bonie Mary.

II

The trumpets sound, the banners fly,
The glittering spears are rankèd ready,
The shouts o' war are heard afar,
The battle closes deep and bloody.
It's not the roar o' sea or shore
Wad mak me langer wish to tarry,
Nor shouts o' war that's heard afar:
It's leaving thee, my bonie Mary!

THE LAZY MIST

[I]

The lazy mist hangs from the brow of the hill,
Concealing the course of the dark winding rill.
How languid the scenes, late so sprightly, appear,
As Autumn to Winter resigns the pale year!

II

The forests are leafless, the meadows are brown,
And all the gay foppery of summer is flown.
Apart let me wander, apart let me muse,
How quick Time is flying, how keen Fate pursues!

III

How long I have liv'd, but how much liv'd in vain!
How little of life's scanty span may remain!
What aspects old Time in his progress has worn!
What ties cruel Fate in my bosom has torn!

IV

How foolish, or worse, till our summit is gain'd!
And downward, how weaken'd, how darken'd, how pain'd!
Life is not worth having with all it can give:
For something beyond it poor man, sure, must live.

THE CAPTAIN'S LADY

Chorus

O, mount and go,
Mount and make you ready!
O, mount and go,
And be the Captain's Lady!

I

When the drums do beat,
And the cannons rattle,
Thou shalt sit in state,
And see thy love in battle:

II

When the vanquish'd foe
Sues for peace and quiet,
To the shades we'll go,
And in love enjoy it.

Chorus

O, mount and go,
Mount and make you ready!
O, mount and go,
And be the Captain's Lady!

OF A' THE AIRTS

I

Of a' the airts the wind can blaw
I dearly like the west,
For there the bonie lassie lives,
The lassie I lo'e best.
There wild woods grow, and rivers row,
And monie a hill between,
But day and night my fancy's flight
Is ever wi' my Jean.

II

I see her in the dewy flowers—
I see her sweet and fair.
I hear her in the tunefu' birds—
I hear her charm the air.
There's not a bonie flower that springs
By fountain, shaw, or green,
There's not a bonie bird that sings,
But minds me o' my Jean.

CARL, AN THE KING COME

Chorus

Carl, an the King come,
Carl, an the King come,
Thou shalt dance, and I will sing,
Carl, an the King come!

I

An somebodie were come again,
Then somebodie maun cross the main,
And every man shall hae his ain,
Carl, an the King come!

II

I trow we swappèd for the worse:
We gae the boot and better horse,
And that we'll tell them at the Cross,
Carl, an the King come!

III

Coggie, an the King come,
Coggie, an the King come,
I'll be fou, and thou 'se be toom,
Coggie, an the King come!

Chorus

Carl, an the King come,
Carl, an the King come,
Thou shalt dance, and I will sing,
Carl, an the King come!

WHISTLE O'ER THE LAVE O'T

I

First when Maggie was my care,
Heav'n, I thought, was in her air;
Now we're married, spier nae mair,
But—whistle o'er the lave o't!
Meg was meek, and Meg was mild,
Sweet and harmless as a child:
Wiser men than me's beguiled—
Whistle o'er the lave o't!

II

How we live, my Meg and me,
How we love, and how we gree,
I care na by how few may see—
Whistle o'er the lave o't!
Wha I wish were maggots' meat,
Dish'd up in her winding-sheet,
I could write (but Meg wad see't)—
Whistle o'er the lave o't!

O, WERE I ON PARNASSUS HILL

I

O, were I on Parnassus hill,
Or had o' Helicon my fill,
That I might catch poetic skill
To sing how dear I love thee!
But Nith maun be my Muses' well,
My Muse maun be thy bonie sel',
On Corsincon I'll glowr and spell,
And write how dear I love thee.

II

Then come, sweet Muse, inspire my lay!
For a' the lee-lang simmer's day
I couldna sing, I couldna say
How much, how dear I love thee.
I see thee dancing o'er the green,
Thy waist sae jimp, thy limbs sae clean,
Thy tempting lips, thy roguish een—
By Heaven and Earth I love thee!

III

By night, by day, a-field, at hame,
The thoughts o' thee my breast inflame,
And ay I muse and sing thy name—
I only live to love thee.

Tho' I were doom'd to wander on,
Beyond the sea, beyond the sun,
Till my last weary sand was run,
Till then—and then—I'd love thee!

THE CAPTIVE RIBBAND

I

Myra, the captive ribband's mine!
'Twas all my faithful love could gain,
And would you ask me to resign
The sole reward that crowns my pain?

II

Go, bid the hero, who has run
Thro' fields of death to gather fame—
Go, bid him lay his laurels down,
And all his well-earn'd praise disclaim!

III

The ribband shall its freedom lose—
Lose all the bliss it had with you!—
And share the fate I would impose
On thee, wert thou my captive too.

IV

It shall upon my bosom live,
Or clasp me in a close embrace;
And at its fortune if you grieve,
Retrieve its doom, and take its place.

THERE'S A YOUTH IN THIS CITY

I

There's a youth in this city, it were a great pity
That he from our lasses should wander awa';
For he's bonie and braw, weel-favor'd witha',
An' his hair has a natural buckle an' a'.

II

His coat is the hue o' his bonnet sae blue,
His fecket is white as the new-driven snaw,
His hose they are blae, and his shoon like the slae,
And his clear siller buckles, they dazzle us a'.

III

For beauty and fortune the laddie's been courtin:
Weel-featur'd, weel-tocher'd, weel-mounted, an' braw,
But chiefly the siller that gars him gang till her—
The penny's the jewel that beautifies a'!

IV

There's Meg wi' the mailen, that fain wad a haen him,
And Susie, wha's daddie was laird of the Ha',
There's lang-tocher'd Nancy maist fetters his fancy;
But the laddie's dear sel he loes dearest of a'.

MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS

Chorus

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,
My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer,
A-chasing the wild deer and following the roe—
My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go!

I

Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North,
The birthplace of valour, the country of worth!
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.

II

Farewell to the mountains high cover'd with snow,
Farewell to the straths and green valleys below,
Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods,
Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods!

Chorus

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,
My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer,
A-chasing the wild deer and following the roe—
My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go!

JOHN ANDERSON MY JO

I

John Anderson my jo, John,
When we were first acquent,
Your locks were like the raven,
Your bonie brow was brent;
But now your brow is beld, John,
Your locks are like the snaw,
But blessings on your frosty pow,
John Anderson my jo!

II

John Anderson my jo, John,
We clamb the hill thegither,
And monie a cantie day, John,
We've had wi' ane anither;
Now we maun totter down, John,
And hand in hand we'll go,
And sleep thegither at the foot,
John Anderson my jo!

AWA', WHIGS, AWA'

Chorus

Awa', Whigs, awa'!
Awa', Whigs, awa'!
Ye're but a pack o' traitor louns,
Ye'll do nae guid at a'.

I

Our thrissles flourish'd fresh and fair,
And bonie bloom'd our roses;
But Whigs cam like a frost in June,
An' wither'd a' our posies.

II

Our ancient crown's fa'n in the dust—
Deil blin' them wi' the stoure o't,
An' write their names in his black beuk,
Wha gae the Whigs the power o't!

III

Our sad decay in church and state
Surpasses my descriving.
The Whigs cam o'er us for a curse,
And we hae done wi' thriving.

IV

Grim Vengeance lang has taen a nap,
But we may see him waukin—
Gude help the day when Royal heads
Are hunted like a maukin!

Chorus

Awa', Whigs, awa'!
Awa', Whigs, awa'!
Ye're but a pack o' traitor louns,
Ye'll do nae guid at a'.

CA' THE YOWES TO THE KNOWES

Chorus

Ca' the yowes to the knowes,
Ca' them where the heather grows,
Ca' them where the burnie rowes,
My bonie dearie!

I

As I gaed down the water-side,
There I met my shepherd lad:
He row'd me sweetly in his plaid,
And he ca'd me his dearie.

II

‘Will ye gang down the water-side,
And see the waves sae sweetly glide
Beneath the hazels spreading wide?
The moon it shines fu' clearly.’

III

‘I was bred up in nae sic school,
My shepherd lad, to play the fool,
An' a' the day to sit in dool,
An' naebody to see me.’

IV

‘Ye sall get gowns and ribbons meet,
Cauf-leather shoon upon your feet,
And in my arms thou'lt lie and sleep,
An' ye sall be my dearie.’

V

‘If ye'll but stand to what ye've said,
I'se gang wi' you, my shepherd lad,
And ye may row me in your plaid,
And I sall be your dearie.’

VI

‘While waters wimple to the sea,
While day blinks in the lift sae hie,
Till clay-cauld death sall blin' my e'e,
Ye sall be my dearie.’

Chorus

Ca' the yowes to the knowes,
Ca' them where the heather grows,
Ca' them where the burnie rowes,
My bonie dearie!

O, MERRY HAE I BEEN

I

O, merry hae I been teethin a heckle,
An' merry hae I been shapin a spoon!
O, merry hae I been cloutin a kettle,
An' kissin my Katie when a' was done!

O, a' the lang day I ca' at my hammer,
An' a' the lang day I whistle an' sing!
O, a' the lang night I cuddle my kimmer,
An' a' the lang night as happy's a king!

II

Bitter in dool, I lickit my winnins
O' marrying Bess, to gie her a slave.
Blest be the hour she cool'd in her linens,
And blythe be the bird that sings on her grave!
Come to my arms, my Katie, my Katie,
An' come to my arms, and kiss me again!
Drucken or sober, here's to thee, Katie,
And blest be the day I did it again!

A MOTHER'S LAMENT

I

Fate gave the word—the arrow sped,
And pierc'd my darling's heart,
And with him all the joys are fled
Life can to me impart.
By cruel hands the sapling drops,
In dust dishonor'd laid:
So fell the pride of all my hopes,
My age's future shade.

II

The mother linnet in the brake
Bewails her ravish'd young:
So I for my lost darling's sake
Lament the live-day long.
Death, oft I've fear'd thy fatal blow!
Now fond I bare my breast!
O, do thou kindly lay me low,
With him I love at rest!

THE WHITE COCKADE

Chorus

O, he's a ranting, roving lad!
He is a brisk an' a bonie lad!
Betide what may, I will be wed,
And follow the boy wi' the White Cockade!

I

My love was born in Aberdeen,
The boniest lad that e'er was seen;
But now he makes our hearts fu' sad—
He takes the field wi' his White Cockade.

II

I'll sell my rock, my reel, my tow,
My guid gray mare and hawkit cow,
To buy mysel a tartan plaid,
To follow the boy wi' the White Cockade.

Chorus

O, he's a ranting, roving lad!
He is a brisk an' a bonie lad!
Betide what may, I will be wed,
And follow the boy wi' the White Cockade!

THE BRAES O' BALLOCHMYLE

I

The Catrine woods were yellow seen,
The flowers decay'd on Catrine lea;
Nae lav'rock sang on hillock green,
But nature sicken'd on the e'e;
Thro' faded groves Maria sang,
Hersel in beauty's bloom the while,
And aye the wild-wood echoes rang:—
‘Fareweel the braes o' Ballochmyle!

II

‘Low in your wintry beds, ye flowers,
Again ye'll flourish fresh and fair;
Ye birdies, dumb in with'ring bowers,
Again ye'll charm the vocal air;
But here, alas! for me nae mair
Shall birdie charm, or floweret smile:
Fareweel the bonie banks of Ayr!
Fareweel! fareweel sweet Ballochmyle!’

THE RANTIN DOG, THE DADDIE O'T

I

O, wha my babie-clouts will buy?
O, wha will tent me when I cry?
Wha will kiss me where I lie?—
The rantin dog, the daddie o't!

II

O, wha will own he did the faut?
O, wha will buy the groanin maut?
O, wha will tell me how to ca't?—
The rantin dog, the daddie o't!

III

When I mount the creepie-chair,
Wha will sit beside me there?
Gie me Rob, I'll seek nae mair—
The rantin dog, the daddie o't!

IV

Wha will crack to me my lane?
Wha will mak me fidgin fain?
Wha will kiss me o'er again?—
The rantin dog, the daddie o't!

THOU LINGERING STAR

I

Thou ling'ring star with less'ning ray,
That lov'st to greet the early morn,
Again thou usher'st in the day
My Mary from my soul was torn.
O Mary, dear departed shade!
Where is thy place of blissful rest?
See'st thou thy lover lowly laid?
Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?

II

That sacred hour can I forget,
Can I forget the hallow'd grove,
Where, by the winding Ayr, we met
To live one day of parting love?
Eternity cannot efface
Those records dear of transports past,
Thy image at our last embrace—
Ah! little thought we 'twas our last!

III

Ayr, gurgling, kiss'd his pebbled shore,
O'erhung with wild woods thickening green;
The fragrant birch and hawthorn hoar
'Twin'd amorous round the raptur'd scene;

The flowers sprang wanton to be prest,
The birds sang love on every spray,
Till too, too soon, the glowing west
Proclaim'd the speed of wingèd day.

IV

Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes,
And fondly broods with miser-care.
Time but th'impression stronger makes,
As streams their channels deeper wear.
O Mary, Dear departed shade!
Where is thy place of blissful rest?
See'st thou thy lover lowly laid?
Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?

EPPIE ADAIR

Chorus

An' O my Eppie,
My jewel, my Eppie!
Wha wadna be happy
Wi' Eppie Adair?

I

By love and beauty,
By law and by duty,
I swear to be true to
My Eppie Adair!

II

A' pleaure exile me,
Dishonour defile me,
If e'er I beguile thee,
My Eppie Adair!

Chorus

An' O my Eppie,
My jewel, my Eppie!
Wha wadna be happy
Wi' Eppie Adair?

THE BATTLE OF SHERRAMUIR

I

‘O, cam ye here the fight to shun,
Or herd the sheep wi' me, man?
Or were ye at the Sherra-moor,
Or did the battle see, man?’
‘I saw the battle, sair and teugh,
And reekin-red ran monie a sheugh;
My heart for fear gae sough for sough,
To hear the thuds, and see the cluds
O' clans frae woods in tartan duds,
Wha glaum'd at kingdoms three, man.

II

‘The red-coat lads wi' black cockauds
To meet them were na slaw, man:
They rush'd and push'd and bluid outgush'd,
And monie a bouk did fa', man!
The great Argyle led on his files,
I wat they glanc'd for twenty miles;
They hough'd the clans like nine-pin kyles,
They hack'd and hash'd, while braid-swords clash'd,
And thro' they dash'd, and hew'd and smash'd,
Till fey men died awa, man.

III

‘But had ye seen the philibegs
And skyrin tartan trews, man,
When in the teeth they daur'd our Whigs
And Covenant truebles, man!
In lines extended lang and large,
When baig'nets o'erpower'd the targe,
And thousands hasten'd to the charge,
Wi' Highland wrath they frae the sheath
Drew blades o' death, till out o' breath
They fled like frighted dows, man!’

IV

‘O, how Deil! Tam, can that be true?
The chase gaed frae the north, man!
I saw mysel, they did pursue
The horseman back to Forth, man;

And at Dunblane, in my ain sight,
They took the brig wi' a' their might,
And straught to Stirling wing'd their flight;
But, cursed lot! the gates were shut,
And monie a huntit poor red-coat,
For fear amaist did swarf, man!’

V

‘My sister Kate cam up the gate
Wi' crowdie unto me, man:
She swoor she saw some rebels run
To Perth and to Dundee, man!
Their left-hand general had nae skill;
The Angus lads had nae good will
That day their neebors' bluid to spill;
For fear by foes that they should lose
Their cogs o' brose, they scar'd at blows,
And hameward fast did flee, man.

VI

‘They've lost some gallant gentlemen,
Amang the Highland clans, man!
I fear my Lord Panmure is slain,
Or in his en'mies' hands, man.
Now wad ye sing this double flight,
Some fell for wrang, and some for right,
But monie bade the world guid-night:
Say, pell and mell, wi' muskets' knell
How Tories fell, and Whigs to Hell
Flew off in frighted bands, man!’

YOUNG JOCKIE WAS THE BLYTHEST LAD

I

Young Jockie was the blythest lad,
In a' our town or here awa:
Fu' blythe he whistled at the gaud,
Fu' lightly danc'd he in the ha'.

II

He roos'd my een sae bonie blue,
He roos'd my waist sae genty sma';
An' ay my heart cam to my mou',
When ne'er a body heard or saw.

III

My Jockie toils upon the plain
Thro' wind and weet, thro' frost and snaw;
And o'er the lea I leuk fu' fain,
When Jockie's owsen hameward ca'.

IV

An' ay the night comes round again,
When in his arms he taks me a',
An' ay he vows he'll be my ain
As lang's he has a breath to draw.

A WAUKRIFE MINNIE

I

‘Whare are you gaun, my bonie lass?
Whare are you gaun, my hinnie?’
She answer'd me right saucilie:—
‘An errand for my minnie!’

II

‘O, whare live ye, my bonie lass?
O, whare live ye, my hinnie?’
‘By yon burnside, gin ye maun ken,
In a wee house wi' my minnie!’

III

But I foor up the glen at e'en
To see my bonie lassie,
And lang before the grey morn cam
She was na hauf sae saucy.

IV

O, weary fa' the waukrife cock,
And the foumart lay his crawin!
He wauken'd the auld wife frae her sleep
A wee blink or the dawin.

V

An angry wife I wat she raise,
And o'er the bed she brought her,
And wi' a meikle hazel-rung
She made her a weel-pay'd dochter.

VI

‘O, fare-thee-weel, my bonie lass!
O, fare-thee-weel, my hinnie!
Thou art a gay and a bonie lass,
But thou has a waukrife minnie!’

THO' WOMEN'S MINDS

Chorus

For a' that, an' a' that,
And twice as meikle's a' that,
The bonie lass that I loe best,
She'll be my ain for a' that!

I

Tho' women's minds like winter winds
May shift, and turn, an' a' that,
The noblest breast adores them maist—
A consequence, I draw that.

II

Great love I bear to a' the fair,
Their humble slave, an' a' that;
But lordly will, I hold it still
A mortal sin to thraw that.

III

In rapture sweet this hour we meet,
Wi' mutual love an' a' that,
But for how lang the flie may stang,
Let inclination law that!

IV

Their tricks an' craft hae put me daft,
They've taen me in an' a' that,
But clear your decks, and here's:—‘The Sex!’
I like the jads for a' that!

Chorus

For a' that, an' a' that,
And twice as meikle's a' that,
The bonie lass that I loe best,
She'll be my ain for a' that!

WILLIE BREW'D A PECK O' MAUT

Chorus

We are na fou, we're nae that fou,
But just a drappie in our e'e!
The cock may craw, the day may daw,
And ay we'll taste the barley-bree!

I

O, Willie brewed a peck o' maut,
And Rob and Allan cam to see.
Three blyther hearts that lee-lang night
Ye wad na found in Christendie.

II

Here are we met three merry boys,
Three merry boys I trow are we;
And monie a night we've merry been,
And monie mae we hope to be!

III

It is the moon, I ken her horn,
That's blinkin in the lift sae hie:
She shines sae bright to wyle us hame,
But, by my sooth, she'll wait a wee!

IV

Wha first shall rise to gang awa,
A cuckold, coward loun is he!
Wha first beside his chair shall fa',
He is the King amang us three!

Chorus

We are na fou, we're nae that fou,
But just a drappie inn our e'e!
The cock may craw, the day may daw,
And ay we'll taste the barley-bree!

KILLIECRANKIE

Chorus

An ye had been whare I hae been,
Ye wad na been sae cantie, O!
An ye had seen what I hae seen
On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O!

I

‘Whare hae ye been sae braw, lad?
Whare hae ye been sae brankie, O?
Whare hae ye been sae braw, lad?
Cam ye by Killiecrankie, O?’

II

‘I faught at land, I faught at sea,
At hame I faught my auntie, O;
But I met the Devil and Dundee
On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O.

III

‘The bauld Pitcur fell in a furr,
An' Clavers gat a clankie, O,
Or I had fed an Athole gled
On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O!’

Chorus

An ye had been whare I hae been,
Ye wad na been sae cantie, O!
An ye had seen what I hae seen
On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O!

THE BLUE-EYED LASSIE

I

I gaed a waefu' gate yestreen,
A gate I fear I'll dearly rue:
I gat my death frae twa sweet een,
Twa lovely een o' bonie blue!

'Twas not her golden ringlets bright,
Her lips like roses wat wi' dew,
Her heaving bosom lily-white:
It was her een sae bonie blue.

II

She talk'd, she smil'd, my heart she wyl'd,
She charm'd my soul I wist na how;
And ay the stound, the deadly wound,
Cam frae her een sae bonie blue.
But ‘spare to speak, and spare to speed’—
She'll aiblins listen to my vow:
Should she refuse, I'll lay my dead
To her twa een sae bonie blue.

THE BANKS OF NITH

I

The Thames flows proudly to the sea,
Where royal cities stately stand;
But sweeter flows the Nith to me,
Where Cummins ance had high command.
When shall I see that honor'd land,
That winding stream I love so dear?
Must wayward Fortune's adverse hand
For ever—ever keep me here?

II

How lovely, Nith, thy fruitful vales,
Where bounding hawthorns gaily bloom,
And sweetly spread thy sloping dales,
Where lambkins wanton thro' the broom!
Tho' wandering now must be my doom
Far from thy bonie banks and braes,
May there my latest hours consume
Amang my friends of early days!

TAM GLEN

I

My heart is a-breaking, dear tittie,
Some counsel unto me come len'
To anger them a' is a pity,
But what will I do wi' Tam Glen?

II

I'm thinking, wi' sic a braw fellow
In poortith I might mak a fen'.
What care I in riches to wallow,
If I mauna marry Tam Glen?

III

There's Lowrie the laird o' Dumeller:
‘Guid day to you,’ brute! he comes ben.
He brags and he blaws o' his siller,
But when will he dance like Tam Glen?

IV

My minnie does constantly deave me,
And bids me beware o' young men.
They flatter, she says, to deceive me—
But wha can think sae o' Tam Glen?

V

My daddie says, gin I'll forsake him,
He'd gie me guid hunder marks ten.
But if it's ordain'd I maun take him,
O, wha will I get but Tam Glen?

VI

Yestreen at the valentines' dealing,
My heart to my mou gied a sten,
For thrice I drew ane without failing,
And thrice it was written ‘Tam Glen’!

VII

The last Halloween I was waukin
My droukit sark-sleeve, as ye ken—
His likeness came up the house staukin,
And the very grey breeks o' Tam Glen!

VIII

Come, counsel, dear tittie, don't tarry!
I'll gie ye my bonie black hen,
Gif ye will advise me to marry
The lad I lo'e dearly, Tam Glen.

CRAIGIEBURN WOOD

Chorus

Beyond thee, dearie, beyond thee, dearie,
And O, to be lying beyond thee!
O, sweetly, soundly, weel may he sleep
That's laid in the bed beyond thee!

I

Sweet closes the ev'ning on Craigieburn Wood
And blythely awaukens the morrow;
But the pride o' the spring on the Craigieburn Wood
Can yield me naught but sorrow.

II

I see the spreading leaves and flowers,
I hear the wild birds singing;
But pleasure they hae nane for me,
While care my heart is wringing.

III

I can na tell, I maun na tell,
I daur na for your anger;
But secret love will break my heart,
If I conceal it langer.

IV

I see thee gracefu', straight, and tall,
I see thee sweet and bonie;
But O, what will my torment be,
If thou refuse thy Johnie!

V

To see thee in another's arms
In love to lie and languish,
'Twad be my dead, that will be seen—
My heart wad burst wi' anguish!

VI

But, Jeanie, say thou wilt be mine,
Say thou lo'es nane before me,
And a' my days o' life to come
I'll gratefully adore thee.

Chorus

Beyond thee, dearie, beyond thee, dearie,
And O, to be lying beyond thee!
O, sweetly, soundly, weel may he sleep
That's laid in the bed beyond thee!

FRAE THE FRIENDS AND LAND I LOVE

I

Frae the friends and land I love
Driv'n by Fortune's felly spite,
Frae my best belov'd I rove,
Never mair to taste delight!
Never mair maun hope to find
Ease frae toil, relief frae care.
When remembrance wracks the mind,
Pleasures but unveil despair.

II

Brightest climes shall mirk appear,
Desert ilka blooming shore,
Till the Fates, nae mair severe,
Friendship, love, and peace restore;
Till Revenge wi' laurell'd head
Bring our banish'd hame again,
And ilk loyal, bonie lad
Cross the seas, and win his ain!

O JOHN, COME KISS ME NOW

Chorus

O John, come kiss me now, now, now!
O John, my love, come kiss me now!
O John, come kiss me by and by,
For weel ye ken the way to woo!

I

O, some will court and compliment,
And ither some will kiss and daut;
But I will mak o' my guidman,
My ain guidman—it is nae faut!

II

O, some will court and compliment,
And ither some will prie their mou',
And some will hause in ither's arms,
And that's the way I like to do!

Chorus

O John, come kiss me now, now, now!
O John, my love, come kiss me now!
O John, come kiss me by and by,
For weel ye ken the way to woo!

COCK UP YOUR BEAVER

I

When first my brave Johnie lad came to this town,
He had a blue bonnet that wanted the crown,
But now he has gotten a hat and a feather—
Hey, brave Johnie lad, cock up your beaver!

II

Cock up your beaver, and cock it fu' sprush!
We'll over the border and gie them a brush:
There's somebody there we'll teach better behaviour—
Hey, brave Johnie lad, cock up your beaver!

MY TOCHER'S THE JEWEL

I

O, meikle thinks my luve o' my beauty,
And meikle thinks my luve o' my kin;
But little thinks my luve I ken brawlie
My tocher's the jewel has charms for him.
It's a' for the apple he'll nourish the tree,
It's a' for the hiney he'll cherish the bee!
My laddie's sae meikle in luve wi' the siller,
He canna hae luve to spare for me!

II

Your proffer o' luve's an airle-penny,
My tocher's the bargain ye wad buy;
But an ye be crafty, I am cunnin,
Sae ye wi' anither your fortune may try.
Ye're like to the timmer o' yon rotten wood,
Ye're like to the bark o' yon rotten tree:
Ye'll slip frae me like a knotless thread,
An' ye'll crack ye're credit wi' mair nor me!

GUIDWIFE, COUNT THE LAWIN

Chorus

Then, guidwife, count the lawin,
The lawin, the lawin!
Then, guidwife, count the lawin,
And bring a coggie mair!

I

Gane is the day, and mirk's the night,
But we'll ne'er stray for faut o' light,
For ale and brandy's stars and moon,
And blude-red wine's the risin sun.

II

There's wealth and ease for gentlemen,
And semple folk maun fecht and fen';
But here we're a' in ae accord,
For ilka man that's drunk's a lord.

III

My coggie is a haly pool,
That heals the wounds o' care and dool,
And Pleasure is a wanton trout:
An ye drink it a', ye'll find him out!

Chorus

Then, guidwife, count the lawin,
The lawin, the lawin!
Then, guidwife, count the lawin,
And bring a coggie mair!

THERE'LL NEVER BE PEACE TILL JAMIE COMES HAME

I

By yon castle wa' at the close of the day,
I heard a man sing, tho' his head it was grey,
And as he was singing, the tears doon came:—
‘There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame!

II

‘The Church is in ruins, the State is in jars,
Delusions, oppressions, and murderous wars,
We dare na weel say't, but we ken wha's to blame—
There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame!

III

‘My seven braw sons for Jamie drew sword,
But now I greet round their green beds in the yerd;
It brak the sweet heart o' my faithfu' auld dame—
There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame!

IV

‘Now life is a burden that bows me down,
Sin I tint my bairns, and he tint his crown;
But till my last moments my words are the same—
There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame!’

WHAT CAN A YOUNG LASSIE

I

What can a young lassie,
What shall a young lassie,
What can a young lassie
Do wi' an auld man?
Bad luck on the penny
That tempted my minnie
To sell her puir Jenny
For siller an' lan'!

II

He's always compleenin
Frae mornin to eenin;
He hoasts and he hirples
The weary day lang;
He's doylt and he's dozin;
His blude it is frozen—
O, dreary's the night
Wi' a crazy auld man!

III

He hums and he hankers,
He frets and he cankers,
I never can please him
Do a' that I can.
He's peevish an' jealous
Of a' the young fellows—
O, dool on the day
I met wi' an auld man!

IV

My auld auntie Katie
Upon me taks pity,
I'll do my endeavour
To follow her plan:
I'll cross him an' wrack him
Until I heartbreak him,
And then his auld brass
Will buy me a new pan.

THE BONIE LAD THAT'S FAR AWA

I

O, how can I be blythe and glad,
Or how can I gang brisk and braw,
When the bonie lad that I lo'e best
Is o'er the hills and far awa?

II

It's no the frosty winter wind,
It's no the driving drift and snaw;
But ay the tear comes in my e'e
To think on him that's far awa.

III

My father pat me frae his door,
My friends they hae disown'd me a';
But I hae ane will tak my part—
The bonie lad that's far awa.

IV

A pair o' glooves he bought to me,
And silken snoods he gae me twa,
And I will wear them for his sake,
The bonie lad that's far awa.

V

O, weary Winter soon will pass,
And Spring will cleed the birken shaw,
And my sweet babie will be born,
And he'll be hame that's far awa!

I DO CONFESS THOU ART SAE FAIR

I

I do confess thou art sae fair,
I wad been o'er the lugs in luve,
Had I na found the slightest prayer
That lips could speak thy heart could muve.
I do confess thee sweet, but find
Thou art so thriftless o' thy sweets,
Thy favours are the silly wind
That kisses ilka thing it meets.

II

See yonder rosebud rich in dew,
Amang its native briers sae coy,
How sune it tines its scent and hue,
When pu'd and worn a common toy!
Sic fate ere lang shall thee betide,
Tho' thou may gaily bloom awhile,
And sune thou shalt be thrown aside,
Like onie common weed, an' vile.

SENSIBILITY HOW CHARMING

I

Sensibility how charming,
Thou, my friend, can'st truly tell!
But Distress with horrors arming
Thou alas! hast known too well!

II

Fairest flower, behold the lily
Blooming in the sunny ray:
Let the blast sweep o'er the valley,
See it prostrate in the clay.

III

Hear the woodlark charm the forest,
Telling o'er his little joys;
But alas! a prey the surest
To each pirate of the skies!

IV

Dearly bought the hidden treasure
Finer feelings can bestow:
Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure
Thrill the deepest notes of woe.

YON WILD MOSSY MOUNTAINS

I

Yon wild mossy mountains sae lofty and wide,
That nurse in their bosom the youth o' the Clyde,
Where the grouse lead their coveys thro' the heather to feed,
And the shepherd tents his flock as he pipes on his reed.

II

Not Gowrie's rich valley nor Forth's sunny shores
To me hae the charms o' yon wild, mossy moors;
For there, by a lanely, sequesterèd stream,
Resides a sweet lassie, my thought and my dream.

III

Amang thae wild mountains shall still be my path,
Ilk stream foaming down its ain green, narrow strath;
For there wi' my lassie the lang day I rove,
While o'er us unheeded flie the swift hours o' love.

IV

She is not the fairest, altho' she is fair;
O' nice education but sma' is her share;
Her parentage humble as humble can be;
But I lo'e the dear lassie because she lo'es me.

V

To Beauty what man but maun yield him a prize,
In her armour of glances, and blushes, and sighs?
And when Wit and Refinement hae polish'd her darts,
They dazzle our een, as they flie to our hearts.

VI

But kindness, sweet kindness, in the fond-sparkling e'e
Has lustre outshining the diamond to me,
And the heart beating love as I'm clasp'd in her arms,
O, these are my lassie's all-conquering charms!

I HAE BEEN AT CROOKIEDEN

I

I hae been at Crookieden—
My bonie laddie, Highland laddie!
Viewing Willie and his men—
My bonie laddie, Highland laddie!
There our foes that burnt and slew—
My bonie laddie, Highland laddie!
There at last they gat their due—
My bonie laddie, Highland laddie!

II

Satan sits in his black neuk—
My bonie laddie, Highland laddie!
Breaking sticks to roast the Duke—
My bonie laddie, Highland laddie!

100

The bloody monster gae a yell—
My bonie laddie, Highland laddie!
And loud the laugh gaed round a' Hell—
My bonie laddie, Highland laddie!

IT IS NA, JEAN, THY BONIE FACE

I

It is na, Jean, thy bonie face
Nor shape that I admire,
Altho' thy beauty and thy grace
Might weel awauk desire.
Something in ilka part o' thee
To praise, to love, I find;
But, dear as is thy form to me,
Still dearer is thy mind.

II

Nae mair ungen'rous wish I hae,
Nor stronger in my breast,
Than, if I canna mak thee sae,
At least to see thee blest:
Content am I, if Heaven shall give
But happiness to thee,
And, as wi' thee I wish to live,
For thee I'd bear to dee.

101

MY EPPIE MACNAB

I

O, saw ye my dearie, my Eppie Macnab?
O, saw ye my dearie, my Eppie Macnab?
‘She's down in the yard, she's kissin the laird,
She winna come hame to her ain Jock Rab!’

II

O, come thy ways to me, my Eppie Macnab!
O, come thy ways to me, my Eppie Macnab!
Whate'er thou has done, be it late, be it soon,
Thou's welcome again to thy ain Jock Rab.

III

What says she, my dearie, my Eppie Macnab?
What says she, my dearie, my Eppie Macnab?
‘She lets thee to wit that she has thee forgot,
And for ever disowns thee, her ain Jock Rab.’

IV

O, had I ne'er seen thee, my Eppie Macnab!
O, had I ne'er seen thee, my Eppie Macnab!
As light as the air and as fause as thou's fair,
Thou's broken the heart o' thy ain Jock Rab!

102

WHA IS THAT AT MY BOWER DOOR

I

‘Wha is that at my bower door?’
‘O, wha is it but Findlay!’
‘Then gae your gate, ye 'se nae be here.’
‘Indeed maun I!’ quo' Findlay.
‘What mak ye, sae like a thief?’
‘O, come and see!’ quo' Findlay.
‘Before the morn ye'll work mischief?’
‘Indeed will I!’ quo' Findlay.

II

‘Gif I rise and let you in’—
‘Let me in!’ quo' Findlay—
‘Ye'll keep me wauken wi' your din?’
‘Indeed will I!’ quo' Findlay.
‘In my bower if ye should stay’—
‘Let me stay!’ quo' Findlay—
‘I fear ye'll bide till break o' day?’
‘Indeed will I!’ quo' Findlay.

III

‘Here this night if ye remain’—
‘I'll remain!’ quo' Findlay—
‘I dread ye'll learn the gate again?’
‘Indeed will I!’ quo' Findlay.

103

‘What may pass within this bower’
(‘Let it pass!’ quo' Findlay!)
‘Ye maun conceal till your last hour’—
‘Indeed will I!’ quo' Findlay.

BONIE WEE THING

Chorus

Bonie wee thing, cannie wee thing,
Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine,
I wad wear thee in my bosom
Lest my jewel it should tine.

I

Wishfully I look and languish
In that bonie face o' thine,
And my heart it stounds wi' anguish,
Lest my wee thing be na mine.

II

Wit and Grace and Love and Beauty
In ae constellation shine!
To adore thee is my duty,
Goddess o' this soul o' mine!

104

Chorus

Bonie wee thing, cannie wee thing,
Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine,
I wad wear thee in my bosom
Lest my jewel it should tine.

THE TITHER MORN

I

The tither morn, when I forlorn
Aneath an aik sat moaning,
I did na trow I'd see my jo
Beside me gin the gloaming.
But he sae trig lap o'er the rig,
And dawtingly did cheer me,
When I, what reck, did least expeck
To see my lad sae near me!

II

His bonnet he a thought ajee
Cock'd spunk when first he clasp'd me;
And I, I wat, wi' fainness grat,
While in his grips he press'd me.
‘Deil tak the war!’ I late and air
Hae wish'd since Jock departed;
But now as glad I'm wi' my lad
As short syne broken-hearted.

105

III

Fu' aft at e'en, wi' dancing keen,
When a' were blythe and merry,
I car'd na by, sae sad was I
In absence o' my deary.
But praise be blest! my mind's at rest,
I'm happy wi' my Johnie!
At kirk and fair, I 'se ay be there,
And be as canty's onie.

AE FOND KISS

I

Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!
Ae farewell, and then forever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
Who shall say that Fortune grieves him,
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me,
Dark despair around benights me.

II

I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy:
Naething could resist my Nancy!
But to see her was to love her,
Love but her, and love for ever.

106

Had we never lov'd sae kindly,
Had we never lov'd sae blindly,
Never met—or never parted—
We had ne'er been broken-hearted.

III

Fare-thee-weel, thou first and fairest!
Fare-thee-weel, thou best and dearest!
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Peace, Enjoyment, Love and Pleasure!
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!
Ae farewell, alas, for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.

LOVELY DAVIES

I

O, how shall I, unskilfu', try
The Poet's occupation?
The tunefu' Powers, in happy hours
That whisper inspiration,
Even they maun dare an effort mair
Than aught they ever gave us,
Ere they rehearse in equal verse
The charms o' lovely Davies.

107

II

Each eye, it cheers, when she appears,
Like Phœbus in the morning,
When past the shower, and every flower
The garden is adorning!
As the wretch looks o'er Siberia's shore,
When winter-bound the wave is,
Sae droops our heart, when we maun part
Frae charming, lovely Davies.

III

Her smile's a gift frae 'boon the lift,
That maks us mair than princes.
A sceptred hand, a king's command,
Is in her darting glances.
The man in arms 'gainst female charms,
Even he her willing slave is:
He hugs his chain, and owns the reign
Of conquering lovely Davies.

IV

My Muse to dream of such a theme
Her feeble powers surrenders;
The eagle's gaze alone surveys
The sun's meridian splendours.
I wad in vain essay the strain—
The deed too daring brave is!
I'll drap the lyre, and, mute, admire
The charms o' lovely Davies.

108

THE WEARY PUND O' TOW

Chorus

The weary pund, the weary pund,
The weary pund o' tow!
I think my wife will end her life
Before she spin her tow.

I

I bought my wife a stane o' lint
As guid as e'er did grow,
And a' that she has made o' that
Is ae puir pund o' tow.

II

There sat a bottle in a bole
Beyont the ingle low;
And ay she took the tither souk
To drouk the stourie tow.

III

Quoth I:—‘For shame, ye dirty dame,
Gae spin your tap o' tow!’
She took the rock, and wi' a knock
She brake it o'er my pow.

109

IV

At last her feet—I sang to see't!—
Gaed foremost o'er the knowe,
And or I wad anither jad,
I'll wallop in a tow.

Chorus

The weary pund, the weary pund,
The weary pund o' tow!
I think my wife will end her life
Before she spin her tow.

I HAE A WIFE O' MY AIN

I

I hae a wife o' my ain,
I'll partake wi' naebody:
I'll take cuckold frae nane,
I'll gie cuckold to naebody.

II

I hae a penny to spend,
There—thanks to naebody!
I hae naething to lend,
I'll borrow frae naebody.

110

III

I am naebody's lord,
I'll be slave to naebody.
I hae a guid braid sword,
I'll tak dunts frae naebody.

IV

I'll be merry and free,
I'll be sad for naebody.
Naebody cares for me,
I care for naebody.

WHEN SHE CAM BEN, SHE BOBBED

I

O, when she cam ben, she bobbéd fu' law!
O, when she cam ben, she bobbéd fu' law!
And when she cam' ben, she kiss'd Cockpen,
And syne she deny'd she did it at a'!

II

And was na Cockpen right saucy witha'?
And was na Cockpen right saucy witha',
In leaving the dochter o' a lord,
And kissin a collier lassie an' a'?

111

III

O, never look down, my lassie, at a'!
O, never look down, my lassie, at a'!
Thy lips are as sweet, and thy figure complete,
As the finest dame in castle or ha'.

IV

‘Tho' thou hast nae silk, and holland sae sma',
Tho' thou hast nae silk, and holland sae sma',
Thy coat and thy sark are thy ain handywark,
And Lady Jean was never sae braw.’

O, FOR ANE-AND-TWENTY, TAM

Chorus

An' O, for ane-and-twenty, Tam!
And hey, sweet ane-and-twenty, Tam!
I'll learn my kin a rattlin sang
An I saw ane-and-twenty, Tam.

I

They snool me sair, and haud me down,
And gar me look like bluntie, Tam;
But three short years will soon wheel roun'—
And then comes ane-and-twenty, Tam!

112

II

A gleib o' lan', a claut o' gear
Was left me by my auntie, Tam.
At kith or kin I needna spier,
An I saw ane-and-twenty, Tam.

III

They'll hae me wed a wealthy coof,
Tho' I mysel hae plenty, Tam;
But hear'st thou, laddie—there's my loof:
I'm thine at ane-and-twenty, Tam!

Chorus

An' O, for ane-and-twenty, Tam!
And hey, sweet ane-and-twenty, Tam!
I'll learn my kin a rattlin sang
An I saw ane-and-twenty, Tam.

O, KENMURE'S ON AND AWA, WILLIE

I

O, Kenmure's on and awa, Willie,
O, Kenmure's on and awa!
An' Kenmure's lord's the bravest lord
That ever Galloway saw!

113

II

Success to Kenmure's band, Willie,
Success to Kenmure's band!
There's no a heart that fears a Whig
That rides by Kenmure's hand.

III

Here's Kenmure's health in wine, Willie,
Here's Kenmure's health in wine!
There ne'er was a coward o' Kenmure's blude,
Nor yet o' Gordon's line.

IV

O, Kenmure's lads are men, Willie,
O, Kenmure's lads are men!
Their hearts and swords are metal true,
And that their faes shall ken.

V

They'll live or die wi' fame, Willie,
They'll live or die wi' fame!
But soon wi' sounding Victorie
May Kenmure's lord come hame!

VI

Here's him that's far awa, Willie,
Here's him that's far awa!
And here's the flower that I lo'e best—
The rose that's like the snaw!

114

O, LEEZE ME ON MY SPINNIN-WHEEL

I

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!

II

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.

III

On lofty aiks the cushats wail,
And Echo cons the doolfu' tale.
The lintwhites in the hazel braes,
Delighted, rival ither's lays.

115

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.

IV

Wi' sma to sell and less to buy,
Aboon distress, below envý,
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?

MY COLLIER LADDIE

I

‘O, whare live ye, my bonie lass,
And tell me how they ca' ye?’
‘My name,’ she says, ‘is Mistress Jean,
And I follow the collier laddie.’

II

‘O, see you not yon hills and dales
The sun shines on sae brawlie?
They a' are mine, and they shall be thine,
Gin ye'll leave your collier laddie!

116

III

‘An' ye shall gang in gay attire,
Weel buskit up sae gaudy,
And ane to wait on every hand,
Gin ye'll leave your collier laddie!’

IV

‘Tho' ye had a' the sun shines on,
And the earth conceals sae lowly,
I wad turn my back on you and it a',
And embrace my collier laddie.

V

‘I can win my five pennies in a day,
An' spend it at night fu' brawlie,
And make my bed in the collier's neuk
And lie down wi' my collier laddie.

VI

‘Loove for loove is the bargain for me,
Tho' the wee cot-house should haud me,
And the warld before me to win my bread—
And fair fa' my collier laddie!’

117

NITHSDALE'S WELCOME HAME

I

The noble Maxwells and their powers
Are coming o'er the border;
And they'll gae big Terreagles' towers,
And set them a' in order;
And they declare Terreagles fair,
For their abode they choose it:
There's no a heart in a' the land
But's lighter at the news o't!

II

Tho' stars in skies may disappear,
And angry tempests gather,
The happy hour may soon be near
That brings us pleasant weather;
The weary night o' care and grief
May hae a joyfu' morrow;
So dawning day has brought relief—
Fareweel our night o' sorrow!

IN SIMMER, WHEN THE HAY WAS MAWN

I

In simmer, when the hay was mawn
And corn wav'd green in ilka field,
While claver blooms white o'er the ley,
And roses blaw in ilka bield,

118

Blythe Bessie in the milking shiel
Says:—‘I'll be wed, come o't what will!’
Out spake a dame in wrinkled eild:—
‘O' guid advisement comes nae ill.

II

‘It's ye hae wooers monie ane,
And lassie, ye're but young, ye ken!
Then wait a wee, and cannie wale
A routhie butt, a routhie ben.
There Johnie o' the Buskie-Glen,
Fu' is his barn, fu' is his byre.
Tak this frae me, my bonie hen:
It's plenty beets the luver's fire!’

III

‘For Johnie o' the Buskie-Glen
I dinna care a single flie:
He lo'es sae weel his craps and kye,
He has nae love to spare for me.
But blythe's the blink o' Robie's e'e,
And weel I wat he lo'es me dear:
Ae blink o' him I wad na gie
For Buskie-Glen and a' his gear.’

IV

‘O thoughtless lassie, life's a faught!
The canniest gate, the strife is sair.
But ay fu'-han't is fechtin best:
A hungry care's an unco care.

119

But some will spend, and some will spare,
An' wilfu' folk maun hae their will.
Syne as ye brew, my maiden fair,
Keep mind that ye maun drink the yill!’

V

‘O, gear will buy me rigs o' land,
And gear will buy me sheep and kye!
But the tender heart o' leesome loove
The gowd and siller canna buy!
We may be poor, Robie and I;
Light is the burden luve lays on;
Content and loove brings peace and joy:
What mair hae Queens upon a throne?’

FAIR ELIZA

I

Turn again, thou fair Eliza!
Ae kind blink before we part!
Rew on thy despairing lover—
Canst thou break his faithfu' heart?
Turn again, thou fair Eliza!
If to love thy heart denies,
For pity hide the cruel sentence
Under friendship's kind disguise!

120

II

Thee, dear maid, hae I offended?
The offence is loving thee.
Canst thou wreck his peace for ever,
Wha for thine wad gladly die?
While the life beats in my bosom,
Thou shalt mix in ilka throe.
Turn again, thou lovely maiden,
Ae sweet smile on me bestow!

III

Not the bee upon the blossom
In the pride o' sinny noon,
Not the little sporting fairy
All beneath the simmer moon,
Not the Poet in the moment
Fancy lightens in his e'e,
Kens the pleasure, feels the rapture,
That thy presence gies to me.

YE JACOBITES BY NAME

I

Ye Jacobites by name,
Give an ear, give an ear!
Ye Jacobites by name,
Give an ear!

121

Ye Jacobites by name,
Your fautes I will proclaim,
Your doctrines I maun blame—
You shall hear!

II

What is Right, and what is Wrang,
By the law, by the law?
What is Right, and what is Wrang,
By the law?
What is Right, and what is Wrang?
A short sword and a lang,
A weak arm and a strang
For to draw!

III

What makes heroic strife
Famed afar, famed afar?
What makes heroic strife
Famed afar?
What makes heroic strife?
To whet th'assassin's knife,
Or hunt a Parent's life
Wi' bluidy war!

IV

Then let your schemes alone,
In the State, in the State!
Then let your schemes alone,
In the State!

122

Then let your schemes alone,
Adore the rising sun,
And leave a man undone
To his fate!

THE POSIE

I

O, luve will venture in where it daur na weel be seen!
O, luve will venture in, where wisdom ance hath been!
But I will doun yon river rove amang the wood sae green,
And a' to pu' a posie to my ain dear May!

II

The primrose I will pu', the firstling o' the year,
And I will pu' the pink, the emblem o' my dear,
For she's the pink o' womankind, and blooms without a peer—
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May!

III

I'll pu' the budding rose when Phœbus peeps in view,
For it's like a baumy kiss o' her sweet, bonie mou.
The hyacinth's for constancy wi'its unchanging blue—
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May!

123

IV

The lily it is pure, and the lily it is fair,
And in her lovely bosom I'll place the lily there.
The daisy's for simplicity and unaffected air—
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May!

V

The hawthorn I will pu', wi' its locks o' siller gray,
Where, like an agèd man, it stands at break o' day;
But the songster's nest within the bush I winna tak away—
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May!

VI

The woodbine I will pu' when the e'ening star is near,
And the diamond draps o' dew shall be her een sae clear!
The violet's for modesty, which weel she fa's to wear—
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May!

VII

I'll tie the posie round wi' the silken band o' luve,
And I'll place it in her breast, and I'll swear by a' above,
That to my latest draught o' life the band shall ne'er remove,
And this will be a posie to my ain dear May!

124

THE BANKS O' DOON

I

Ye banks and braes o' bonie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary fu' o' care!
Thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird,
That wantons thro' the flowering thorn!
Thou minds me o' departed joys,
Departed never to return.

II

Aft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon
To see the rose and woodbine twine,
And ilka bird sang o' its luve,
And fondly sae did I o' mine.
Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree!
And my fause luver staw my rose—
But ah! he left the thorn wi' me.

125

WILLIE WASTLE

I

Willie Wastle dwalt on Tweed,
The spot they ca'd it Linkumdoddie.
Willie was a wabster guid
Could stown a clue wi' onie bodie.
He had a wife was dour and din,
O, Tinkler Maidgie was her mither!
Sic a wife as Willie had,
I wad na gie a button for her.

II

She has an e'e (she has but ane),
The cat has twa the very colour,
Five rusty teeth, forbye a stump,
A clapper-tongue wad deave a miller;
A whiskin beard about her mou,
Her nose and chin they threaten ither:
Sic a wife as Willie had,
I wad na gie a button for her.

III

She's bow-hough'd, she's hem-shin'd,
Ae limpin leg a hand-breed shorter;
She's twisted right, she's twisted left,
To balance fair in ilka quarter;

126

She has a hump upon her breast,
The twin o' that upon her shouther:
Sic a wife as Willie had,
I wad na gie a button for her.

IV

Auld baudrans by the ingle sits,
An' wi' her loof her face a-washin;
But Willie's wife is nae sae trig,
She dights her grunzie wi' a hushion;
Her walie nieves like midden-creels,
Her face wad fyle the Logan Water:
Sic a wife as Willie had,
I wad na gie a button for her.

LADY MARY ANN

I

O, Lady Mary Ann looks o'er the Castle wa',
She saw three bonie boys playing at the ba',
The youngest he was the flower amang them a'—
My bonie laddie's young, but he's growin yet!

II

‘O father, O father, an ye think it fit,
We'll send him a year to the college yet;
We'll sew a green ribbon round about his hat,
And that will let them ken he's to marry yet!’

127

III

Lady Mary Ann was a flower in the dew,
Sweet was its smell and bonie was its hue,
And the longer it blossom'd the sweeter it grew,
For the lily in the bud will be bonier yet.

IV

Young Charlie Cochran was the sprout of an aik;
Bonie and bloomin and straucht was its make;
The sun took delight to shine for its sake,
And it will be the brag o' the forest yet.

V

The simmer is gane when the leaves they were green,
And the days are awa that we hae seen;
But far better days I trust will come again,
For my bonie laddie's young, but he's growin yet

SUCH A PARCEL OF ROGUES IN A NATION

I

Fareweel to a' our Scottish fame,
Fareweel our ancient glory!
Fareweel ev'n to the Scottish name.
Sae famed in martial story!

128

Now Sark rins over Solway sands,
An' Tweed rins to the ocean,
To mark where England's province stands—
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!

II

What force or guile could not subdue
Thro' many warlike ages
Is wrought now by a coward few
For hireling traitor's wages.
The English steel we could disdain,
Secure in valour's station;
But English gold has been our bane—
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!

III

O, would, or I had seen the day
That Treason thus could sell us,
My auld grey head had lien in clay
Wi' Bruce and loyal Wallace!
But pith and power, till my last hour
I'll mak this declaration:—
‘We're bought and sold for English gold’—
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!

129

KELLYBURN BRAES

I

There lived a carl in Kellyburn Braes
(Hey and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme!),
And he had a wife was the plague o' his days
(And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime!).

II

Ae day as the carl gaed up the lang glen
(Hey and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme!),
He met wi' the Devil, says:—‘How do you fen?’
(And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime!).

III

‘I've got a bad wife, sir, that's a' my complaint
(Hey and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme!),
For, saving your presence, to her ye're a saint’
(And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime!).

IV

‘It's neither your stot nor your staig I shall crave
(Hey and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme!),
‘But gie me your wife, man, for her I must have’
(And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime!).

130

V

‘O welcome most kindly!’ the blythe carl said
(Hey and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme!),
‘But if ye can match her ye're waur than ye're ca'd’
(And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime!).

VI

The Devil has got the auld wife on his back
(Hey and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme!),
And like a poor pedlar he's carried his pack
(And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime!).

VII

He's carried her hame to his ain hallan-door
(Hey and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme!),
Syne bade her gae in for a bitch and a whore
(And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime!).

VIII

Then straight he makes fifty, the pick o' his band
(Hey and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme!),
Turn out on her guard in the clap o' a hand
(And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime!).

131

IX

The carlin gaed thro' them like onie wud bear
(Hey and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme!):
Whae'er she gat hands on cam ne'er her nae mair
(And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime!).

X

A reekit wee deevil looks over the wa
(Hey and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme!):—
‘O help, maister, help, or she'll ruin us a'!’
(And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime!).

XI

The Devil he swore by the edge o' his knife
(Hey and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme!),
He pitied the man that was tied to a wife
(And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime!).

XII

The Devil he swore by the kirk and the bell
(Hey and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme!),
He was not in wedlock, thank Heav'n, but in Hell
(And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime!).

132

XIII

Then Satan has travell'd again wi' his pack
(Hey and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme!),
And to her auld husband he's carried her back
(And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime!).

XIV

‘I hae been a Devil the feck o' my life
(Hey and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme!),
But ne'er was in Hell till I met wi' a wife’
(And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime!).

THE SLAVE'S LAMENT

I

It was in sweet Senegal
That my foes did me enthral
For the lands of Virginia,-ginia, O!
Torn from that lovely shore,
And must never see it more,
And alas! I am weary, weary, O!

II

All on that charming coast
Is no bitter snow and frost,
Like the lands of Virginia,-ginia, O!

133

There streams for ever flow,
And the flowers for ever blow,
And alas! I am weary, weary, O!

III

The burden I must bear,
While the cruel scourge I fear,
In the lands of Virginia,-ginia, O!
And I think on friends most dear
With the bitter, bitter tear,
And alas! I am weary, weary, O!

THE SONG OF DEATH

I

Farewell, thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies,
Now gay with the broad setting sun!
Farewell, loves and friendships, ye dear tender ties—
Our race of existence is run!
Thou grim King of Terrors! thou Life's gloomy foe,
Go, frighten the coward and slave!
Go, teach them to tremble, fell tyrant, but know,
No terrors hast thou to the brave!

134

II

Thou strik'st the dull peasant—he sinks in the dark,
Nor saves e'en the wreck of a name!
Thou strik'st the young hero—a glorious mark,
He falls in the blaze of his fame!
In the field of proud honour, our swords in our hands,
Our king and our country to save,
While victory shines on Life's last ebbing sands,
O, who would not die with the brave?

SWEET AFTON

I

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes!
Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise!
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream—
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream!

II

Thou stock dove whose echo resounds thro' the glen,
Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den,
Thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming forbear—
I charge you, disturb not my slumbering fair!

III

How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills,
Far mark'd with the courses of clear, winding rills!

135

There daily I wander, as noon rises high,
My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye.

IV

How pleasant thy banks and green vallies below,
Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow
There oft, as mild Ev'ning weeps over the lea,
The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me.

V

Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides,
And winds by the cot where my Mary resides!
How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave,
As, gathering sweet flowerets, she stems thy clear wave!

VI

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes!
Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays!
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream—
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream!

BONIE BELL

I

The smiling Spring comes in rejoicing,
And surly Winter grimly flies.
Now crystal clear are the falling waters,
And bonie blue are the sunny skies.

136

Fresh o'er the mountains breaks forth the morning,
The ev'ning gilds the ocean's swell:
All creatures joy in the sun's returning,
And I rejoice in my bonie Bell.

II

The flowery Spring leads sunny summer,
The yellow Autumn presses near;
Then in his turn comes gloomy Winter,
Till smiling Spring again appear.
Thus seasons dancing, life advancing,
Old Time and Nature their changes tell;
But never ranging, still unchanging,
I adore my bonie Bell.

THE GALLANT WEAVER

I

Where Cart rins rowin to the sea
By monie a flower and spreading tree,
There lives a lad, the lad for me—
He is a gallant weaver!
O, I had wooers aught or nine,
They gied me rings and ribbons fine,
And I was fear'd my heart wad tine,
And I gied it to the weaver.

137

II

My daddie sign'd my tocher-band
To gie the lad that has the land;
But to my heart I'll add my hand,
And give it to the weaver.
While birds rejoice in leafy bowers,
While bees delight in opening flowers,
While corn grows green in summer showers,
I love my gallant weaver.

HEY, CA' THRO'

Chorus

Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro',
For we hae mickle ado!
Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro',
For we hae mickle ado!

I

Up wi' the carls of Dysart
And the lads o' Buckhaven,
And the kimmers o' Largo
And the lasses o' Leven!

II

We hae tales to tell,
And we hae sangs to sing;
We hae pennies to spend,
And we hae pints to bring.

138

III

We'll live a' our days,
And them that comes behin',
Let them do the like,
And spend the gear they win!

Chorus

Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro',
For we hae mickle ado!
Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro',
For we hae mickle ado!

O, CAN YE LABOUR LEA

Chorus

O, can ye labour lea, young man,
O, can ye labour lea?
Gae back the gate ye came again—
Ye'se never scorn me!

I

I fee'd a man at Martinmas
Wi' airle-pennies three;
But a' the faut I had to him
He couldna labour lea

139

II

O, clappin's guid in Febarwar,
An' kissin's sweet in May;
But what signifies a young man's love,
An't dinna last for ay?

III

O, kissin is the key o' love
An' clappin is the lock;
An' makin of's the best thing
That e'er a young thing got!

Chorus

O, can ye labour lea, young man,
O, can ye labour lea?
Gae back the gate ye came again—
Ye'se never scorn me!

THE DEUK'S DANG O'ER MY DADDIE

I

The bairns gat out wi' an unco shout:—
‘The deuk's dang o'er my daddie, O!’
‘The fien-ma-care,’ quo' the feirrie auld wife,
‘He was but a paidlin body, O!

140

He paidles out, and he paidles in,
An' he paidles late and early, O!
This seven lang years I hae lien by his side,
An' he is but a fusionless carlie, O!’

II

‘O, haud your tongue, my feirrie auld wife,
O, haud your tongue, now Nansie, O!
I've seen the day, and sae hae ye,
Ye wad na been sae donsie, O.
I've seen the day ye butter'd my brose,
And cuddl'd me late and early, O;
But downa-do's come o'er me now,
And och, I find it sairly, O!’

SHE'S FAIR AND FAUSE

I

She's fair and fause that causes my smart;
I lo'ed her meikle and lang;
She's broken her vow, she's broken my heart;
And I may e'en gae hang.
A coof cam in wi' routh o' gear,
And I hae tint my dearest dear;
But Woman is but warld's gear,
Sae let the bonie lass gang!

141

II

Whae'er ye be that Woman love,
To this be never blind:
Nae ferlie 'tis, tho' fickle she prove,
A woman has't by kind.
O Woman lovely, Woman fair,
An angel form's faun to thy share,
“Twad been o'er meikle to gien thee mair! . . .
I mean an angel mind.

THE DEIL'S AWA WI' TH'EXCISEMAN

Chorus

The Deil's awa, the Deil's awa,
The Deil's awa wi' th'Exciseman!
He's danc'd awa, he's danc'd awa,
He's danc'd awa wi' th'Exciseman!

I

The Deil cam fiddlin thro' the town,
And danc'd awa wi' th'Exciseman,
And ilka wife cries:—‘Auld Mahoun,
I wish you luck o' the prize, man!

II

‘We'll mak our maut, and we'll brew our drink,
We'll laugh, sing, and rejoice, man,
And monie braw thanks to the meikle black Deil,
That danc'd awa wi' th'Exciseman,

142

III

There's threesome reels, there's foursome reels,
There's hornpipes and strathspeys, man,
But the ae best dance ere cam to the land
Was The Deil's Awa wi' th'Exciseman.

Chorus

The Deil's awa, the Deil's awa,
The Deil's awa wi' th'Exciseman!
He's danc'd awa, he's danc'd awa,
He's danc'd awa wi' th'Exciseman!

THE LOVELY LASS OF INVERNESS

I

The lovely lass of Inverness,
Nae joy nor pleasure can she see;
For e'en to morn she cries ‘Alas!’
And ay the saut tear blin's her e'e:—

II

‘Drumossie moor, Drumossie day—
A waefu' day it was to me!
For there I lost my father dear,
My father dear and brethren three.

143

III

Their winding-sheet the bluidy clay,
Their graves are growin green to see,
And by them lies the dearest lad
That ever blest a woman's e'e.

IV

Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord,
A bluidy man I trow thou be,
For monie a heart thou hast made sair
That ne'er did wrang to thine or thee!’

A RED, RED ROSE

I

O, my luve is like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June.
O, my luve is like the melodie,
That's sweetly play'd in tune.

II

As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I,
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.

144

III

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun!
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.

IV

And fare thee weel, my only luve,
And fare thee weel a while!
And I will come again, my luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile!

AS I STOOD BY YON ROOFLESS TOWER

Chorus

A lassie all alone was making her moan,
Lamenting our lads beyond the sea:—
‘In the bluidy wars they fa', and our honor's gane an' a',
And broken-hearted we maun die.’

I

As I stood by yon roofless tower,
Where the wa'flow'r scents the dewy air,
Where the houlet mourns in her ivy bower,
And tells the midnight moon her care:

145

II

The winds were laid, the air was still,
The stars they shot along the sky,
The tod was howling on the hill,
And the distant-echoing glens reply.

III

The burn, adown its hazelly path,
Was rushing by the ruin'd wa',
Hasting to join the sweeping Nith,
Whase roarings seem'd to rise and fa'.

IV

The cauld blae North was streaming forth
Her lights, wi' hissing, eerie din:
Athort the lift they start and shift,
Like Fortune's favours, tint as win.

V

Now, looking over firth and fauld,
Her horn the pale-faced Cynthia rear'd,
When lo! in form of minstrel auld
A stern and stalwart ghaist appear'd.

VI

And frae his harp sic strains did flow,
Might rous'd the slumbering Dead to hear,
But O, it was a tale of woe
As ever met a Briton's ear!

146

VII

He sang wi' joy his former day,
He, weeping, wail'd his latter times:
But what he said—it was nae play!—
I winna ventur't in my rhymes.

Chorus

A lassie all alone was making her moan,
Lamenting our lads beyond the sea:—
‘In the bluidy wars they fa', and our honor's gane an' a',
And broken-hearted we maun die.’

O, AN YE WERE DEAD, GUIDMAN

Chorus

Sing, round about the fire wi' a rung she ran,
An'round about the fire wi' a rung she ran:—
‘Your horns shall tie you to the staw,
An' I shall bang your hide, guidman!’

I

O, an ye were dead, guidman,
A green turf on your head, guidman!
I wad bestow my widowhood
Upon a rantin Highlandman!

147

II

There's sax eggs in the pan, guidman,
There's sax eggs in the pan, guidman:
There's ane to you, and twa to me,
And three to our John Highlandman!

III

A sheep-head's in the pot, guidman,
A sheep-head's in the pot, guidman:
The flesh to him, the broo to me,
An' the horns become your brow, guidman!

Chorus

Sing, round about the fire wi' a rung she ran,
An'round about the fire wi' a rung she ran:—
‘Your horns shall tie you to the staw,
An' I shall bang your hide, guidman!’

AULD LANG SYNE

Chorus

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne!

148

I

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne!

II

And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp,
And surely I'll be mine,
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne!

III

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pou'd the gowans fine,
But we've wander'd monie a weary fit
Sin' auld lang syne.

IV

We twa hae paidl'd in the burn
Frae morning sun till dine,
But seas between us braid hae roar'd
Sin' auld lang syne.

V

And there's a hand, my trusty fiere,
And gie's a hand o' thine,
And we'll tak a right guid-willie waught
For auld lang syne!

149

Chorus

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne!

LOUIS, WHAT RECK I BY THEE

I

Louis, what reck I by thee,
Or Geordie on his ocean?
Dyvor beggar louns to me!
I reign in Jeanie's bosom.

II

Let her crown my love her law,
And in her breast enthrone me,
Kings and nations—swith awa!
Reif randies, I disown ye.

HAD I THE WYTE?

I

Had I the wyte? had I the wyte?
Had I the wyte? she bade me!
She watch'd me by the hie-gate side,
And up the loan she shaw'd me;

150

And when I wadna venture in,
A coward loon she ca'd me!
Had Kirk and State been in the gate,
I'd lighted when she bade me.

II

Sae craftilie she took me ben
And bade me mak nae clatter:—
‘For our ramgunshoch, glum guidman
Is o'er ayont the water.’
Whae'er shall say I wanted grace
When I did kiss and dawte her,
Let him be planted in my place,
Syne say I was the fautor!

III

Could I for shame, could I for shame,
Could I for shame refus'd her?
And wadna manhood been to blame
Had I unkindly used her?
He claw'd her wi' the ripplin-kame,
And blae and bluidy bruis'd her—
When sic a husband was frae hame,
What wife but wad excus'd her!

IV

I dighted ay her een sae blue,
An' bann'd the cruel randy,
And, weel I wat, her willin mou'
Was sweet as sugarcandie.

151

At gloamin-shot, it was, I wot,
I lighted—on the Monday,
But I cam thro' the Tyseday's dew
To wanton Willie's brandy.

COMIN THRO' THE RYE

Chorus

O Jenny's a' weet, poor body,
Jenny's seldom dry:
She draigl't a' her petticoatie,
Comin thro' the rye!

I

Comin thro' the rye, poor body,
Comin thro' the rye,
She draigl't a' her petticoatie,
Comin thro' the rye!

II

Gin a body meet a body
Comin thro' the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body,
Need a body cry?

152

III

Gin a body meet a body
Comin thro' the glen,
Gin a body kiss a body,
Need the warld ken?

Chorus

O, Jenny's a' weet, poor body,
Jenny's seldom dry:
She draigl't a' her petticoatie,
Comin thro' the rye!

YOUNG JAMIE

I

Young Jamie, pride of a' the plain,
Sae gallant and sae gay a swain,
Thro' a' our lasses he did rove,
And reign'd resistless King of Love.

II

But now, wi' sighs and starting tears,
He strays amang the woods and breers;
Or in the glens and rocky caves
His sad complaining dowie raves:—

153

III

I, wha sae late did range and rove,
And chang'd with every moon my love—
I little thought the time was near,
Repentance I should buy sae dear.

IV

‘The slighted maids my torments see,
And laugh at a' the pangs I dree;
While she, my cruel, scornful Fair,
Forbids me e'er to see her mair.’

OUT OVER THE FORTH

I

Out over the Forth, I look to the north—
But what is the north, and its Highlands to me?
The south nor the east gie ease to my breast,
The far foreign land or the wide rolling sea!

II

But I look to the west, when I gae to rest,
That happy my dreams and my slumbers may be;
For far in the west lives he I loe best,
The man that is dear to my babie and me.

154

WANTONNESS FOR EVERMAIR

Wantonness for evermair,
Wantonness has been my ruin.
Yet for a' my dool and care
It's wantonness for evermair.
I hae lo'ed the Black, the Brown;
I hae lo'ed the Fair, the Gowden!
A' the colours in the town—
I hae won their wanton favour.

CHARLIE HE'S MY DARLING

Chorus

An' Charlie he's my darling,
My darling, my darling,
Charlie he's my darling—
The Young Chevalier!

I

'Twas on a Monday morning
Right early in the year,
That Charlie came to our town—
The Young Chevalier!

155

II

As he was walking up the street
The city for to view,
O, there he spied a bonie lass
The window looking thro'!

III

Sae light's he jimpèd up the stair,
And tirl'd at the pin;
And wha sae ready as hersel'
To let the laddie in!

IV

He set his Jenny on his knee,
All in his Highland dress;
For brawlie weel he kend the way
To please a bonie lass.

V

It's up yon heathery mountain
And down yon scroggy glen,
We daurna gang a-milking
For Charlie and his men!

Chorus

An' Charlie he's my darling,
My darling, my darling,
Charlie he's my darling—
The young Chevalier!

156

THE LASS O' ECCLEFECHAN

I

‘Gat ye me, O, gat ye me,
Gat ye me wi' naething?
Rock an' reel, an' spinning wheel,
A mickle quarter basin:
Bye attour, my gutcher has
A heich house and a laich ane,
A' forbye my bonie sel,
The toss o' Ecclefechan!’

II

‘O, haud your tongue now, Lucky Lang,
O, haud your tongue and jauner!
I held the gate till you I met,
Syne I began to wander:
I tint my whistle and my sang,
I tint my peace and pleasure;
But your green graff, now Lucky Lang,
Wad airt me to my treasure.’

157

THE COOPER O' CUDDY

Chorus

We'll hide the cooper behint the door,
Behint the door, behint the door,
We'll hide the cooper behint the door,
And cover him under a mawn, O.

I

The Cooper o' Cuddy came here awa,
He ca'd the girrs out o'er us a',
An' our guidwife has gotten a ca',
That's anger'd the silly guidman, O.

II

He sought them out, he sought them in,
Wi' ‘Deil hae her!’ an' ‘Deil hae him!’
But the body he was sae doited and blin',
He wist na where he was gaun, O.

III

They cooper'd at e'en, they cooper'd at morn,
Till our guidman has gotten the scorn:
On ilka brow she's planted a horn,
And swears that there they sall stan', O!

158

Chorus

We'll hide the cooper behint the door,
Behint the door, behint the door,
We'll hide the cooper behint the door
And cover him under a mawn, O.

FOR THE SAKE O' SOMEBODY

I

My heart is sair—I dare na tell—
My heart is sair for Somebody:
I could wake a winter night
For the sake o' Somebody.
O-hon! for Somebody!
O-hey! for Somebody!
I could range the world around
For the sake o' Somebody.

II

Ye Powers that smile on virtuous love,
O, sweetly smile on Somebody!
Frae ilka danger keep him free,
And send me safe my Somebody!
O-hon! for Somebody!
O-hey! for Somebody!
I wad do—what wad I not?—
For the sake o' Somebody!

159

THE CARDIN O'T

Chorus

The cardin o't, the spinnin o't,
The warpin o't, the winnin o't!
When ilka ell cost me a groat,
The tailor staw the lynin o't.

I

I coft a stane o' haslock woo,
To mak a wab to Johnie o't,
For Johnie is my only jo—
I lo'e him best of onie yet!

II

For tho' his locks be lyart gray,
And tho' his brow be beld aboon,
Yet I hae seen him on a day
The pride of a' the parishen.

Chorus

The cardin o't, the spinnin o't,
The warpin o't, the winnin o't!
When ilka ell cost me a groat,
The tailor staw the lynin o't.

160

THERE'S THREE TRUE GUID FELLOWS

I

There's three true guid fellows,
There's three true guid fellows,
There's three true guid fellows,
Down ayont yon glen!

II

It's now the day is dawin,
But or night do fa' in,
Whase cock's best at crawin,
Willie, thou sall ken!

SAE FLAXEN WERE HER RINGLETS

I

Sae flaxen were her ringlets,
Her eyebrows of a darker hue,
Bewitchingly o'er-arching
Twa laughing een o' bonie blue.

161

Her smiling, sae wyling,
Wad make a wretch forget his woe!
What pleasure, what treasure,
Unto those rosy lips to grow!
Such was my Chloris' bonie face,
When first that bonie face I saw,
And ay my Chloris' dearest charm—
She says she lo'es me best of a'!

II

Like harmony her motion,
Her pretty ankle is a spy
Betraying fair proportion
Wad make a saint forget the sky!
Sae warming, sae charming,
Her faultless form and gracefu' air,
Ilk feature—auld Nature
Declar'd that she could dae nae mair!
Hers are the willing chains o' love
By conquering beauty's sovereign law,
And ay my Chloris' dearest charm—
She says she lo'es me best of a'.

III

Let others love the city,
And gaudy show at sunny noon!
Gie me the lonely valley,
The dewy eve, and rising moon,

162

Fair beaming, and streaming
Her silver light the boughs amang,
While falling, recalling,
The amorous thrush concludes his sang!
There, dearest Chloris, wilt thou rove
By wimpling burn and leafy shaw,
And hear my vows o' truth and love,
And say thou lo'es me best of a'?

THE LASS THAT MADE THE BED

I

When Januar' wind was blawin 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 guid luck a maid I met
Just in the middle o' my care,
And kindly she did me invite
To walk into a chamber fair.

II

I bow'd fu' low unto this maid,
And thank'd her for her courtesie;
I bow'd fu' low unto this maid,
An' bade her mak a bed to me.

163

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'.’

III

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 servèd me with due respeck,
And, to salute her wi' a kiss,
I put my arms about her neck.

IV

‘Haud aff your hands, young man,’ she said,
‘And dinna sae uncivil be;
Gif ye hae onie luve 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!

164

V

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 o'er and o'er again,
And ay she wist na what to say.
I laid her 'tween me an' the wa'—
The lassie thocht na lang till day.

VI

Upon the morrow, when we raise,
I thank'd her for her courtesie,
But ay she blush'd, and ay 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 twinklin in her e'e.
I said:—‘My lassie, dinna cry,
For ye ay shall mak the bed to me.’

VII

She took her mither's holland sheets,
An' made them a' in sarks to me.
Blythe and merry may she be,
The lass that made the bed to me!
The bonie lass made the bed to me,
The braw lass made the bed to me!
I'll ne'er forget till the day I die,
The lass that made the bed to me.

165

SAE FAR AWA

I

O, sad and heavy should I part
But for her sake sae far awa,
Unknowing what my way may thwart—
My native land sae far awa.

II

Thou that of a' things Maker art,
That formed this Fair sae far awa,
Gie body strength, then I'll ne'er start
At this my way sae far awa!

III

How true is love to pure desert!
So mine in her sae far awa,
And nocht can heal my bosom's smart,
While, O, she is sae far awa!

IV

Nane other love, nane other dart
I feel, but hers sae far awa;
But fairer never touched a heart,
Than hers, the Fair sae far awa.

166

THE REEL O' STUMPIE

I

Wap and rowe, wap and rowe,
Wap and rowe the feetie o't;
I thought I was a maiden fair,
Till I heard the greetie o't!

II

My daddie was a fiddler fine,
My minnie she made mantie, O,
And I myself a thumpin quine,
And danc'd the Reel o' Stumpie, O.

I'LL AY CA' IN BY YON TOWN

Chorus

I'll ay ca' in by yon town
And by yon garden green again!
I'll ay ca' in by yon town,
And see my bonie Jean again.

I

There's nane shall ken, there's nane can guess
What brings me back the gate again,
But she, my fairest faithfu' lass,
And stow'nlins we sall meet again.

167

II

She'll wander by the aiken tree,
When trystin time draws near again;
And when her lovely form I see,
O haith! she's doubly dear again.

Chorus

I'll ay ca' in by yon town
And by yon garden green again!
I'll ay ca' in by yon town,
And see my bonie Jean again.

O, WAT YE WHA'S IN YON TOWN

Chorus

O, wat ye wha's in yon town
Ye see the e'enin sun upon?
The dearest maid's in yon town
That e'enin sun is shining on!

I

Now haply down yon gay green shaw
She wanders by yon spreading tree.
How blest ye flowers that round her blaw!
Ye catch the glances o' her e'e.

168

II

How blest ye birds that round her sing,
And welcome in the blooming year!
And doubly welcome be the Spring,
The season to my Jeanie dear!

III

The sun blinks blythe in yon town,
Among the broomy braes sae green;
But my delight in yon town,
And dearest pleasure, is my Jean.

IV

Without my Love, not a' the charms
O' Paradise could yield me joy;
But gie me Jeanie in my arms,
And welcome Lapland's dreary sky!

V

My cave wad be a lover's bower,
Tho' raging Winter rent the air,
And she a lovely little flower,
That I wad tent and shelter there.

VI

O, sweet is she in yon town
The sinkin sun's gane down upon!
A fairer than's in yon town
His setting beam ne'er shone upon.

169

VII

If angry Fate be sworn my foe,
And suff'ring I am doom'd to bear,
I'd careless quit aught else below,
But spare, O, spare me Jeanie dear!

VIII

For, while life's dearest blood is warm,
Ae thought frae her shall ne'er depart,
And she, as fairest is her form,
She has the truest, kindest heart.

Chorus

O, wat ye wha's in yon town
Ye see the e'enin sun upon?
The dearest maid's in yon town
That e'enin sun is shining on.

WHEREFORE SIGHING ART THOU, PHILLIS?

I

Wherefore sighing art thou, Phillis?
Has thy prime unheeded past?
Hast thou found that beauty's lilies
Were not made for ay to last?

170

II

Know, thy form was once a treasure—
Then it was thy hour of scorn!
Since thou then denied the pleasure,
Now 'tis fit that thou should'st mourn.

O MAY, THY MORN

I

O May, thy morn was ne'er sae sweet
As the mirk night o' December!
For sparkling was the rosy wine,
And private was the chamber,
And dear was she I dare na name,
But I will ay remember.

II

And here's to them that, like oursel,
Can push about the jorum!
And here's to them that wish us weel—
May a' that's guid watch o'er 'em!
And here's to them we dare na tell,
The dearest o' the quorum!

171

AS I CAME O'ER THE CAIRNEY MOUNT

Chorus

O, my bonie Highland lad!
My winsome, weel-faur'd Highland laddie!
Wha wad mind the wind and rain
Sae weel row'd in his tartan plaidie!

I

As I came o'er the Cairney mount
And down among the blooming heather,
Kindly stood the milking-shiel
To shelter frae the stormy weather.

II

Now Phœbus blinkit on the bent,
And o'er the knowes the lambs were bleating;
But he wan my heart's consent
To be his ain at the neist meeting.

Chorus

O, my bonie Highland lad!
My winsome, weel-faur'd Highland laddie!
Wha wad mind the wind and rain
Sae weel row'd in his tartan plaidie!

172

HIGHLAND LADDIE

I

The bonniest lad that e'er I saw—
Bonie laddie, Highland laddie!
Wore a plaid and was fu' braw—
Bonie Highland laddie!
On his head a bonnet blue—
Bonie laddie, Highland laddie!
His royal heart was firm and true—
Bonie Highland laddie!

II

‘Trumpets sound and cannons roar,
Bonie lassie, Lawland lassie!—
And a' the hills wi' echoes roar,
Bonie Lawland lassie!
Glory, Honour, now invite—
Bonie lassie, Lawland lassie!—
For freedom and my King to fight,
Bonie Lawland lassie!’

III

‘The sun a backward course shall take,
Bonie laddie, Highland laddie!
Ere aught thy manly courage shake,
Bonie Highland laddie!

173

Go, for yoursel' procure renown,
Bonie laddie, Highland laddie,
And for your lawful King his crown,
Bonie Highland laddie!’

WILT THOU BE MY DEARIE?

I

Wilt thou be my dearie?
When Sorrow wrings thy gentle heart,
O, wilt thou let me cheer thee?
By the treasure of my soul—
That's the love I bear thee—
I swear and vow that only thou
Shall ever be my dearie!
Only thou, I swear and vow,
Shall ever be my dearie!

II

Lassie, say thou lo'es me,
Or, if thou wilt na be my ain,
Say na thou'lt refuse me!
If it winna, canna be,
Thou for thine may choose me,
Let me, lassie, quickly die,
Trusting that thou lo'es me!
Lassie, let me quickly die,
Trusting that thou lo'es me!

174

LOVELY POLLY STEWART

Chorus

O lovely Polly Stewart,
O charming Polly Stewart,
There's ne'er a flower that blooms in May,
That's half so fair as thou art!

I

The flower it blaws, it fades, it fa's,
And art can ne'er renew it;
But Worth and Truth eternal youth
Will gie to Polly Stewart!

II

May he whase arms shall fauld thy charms
Possess a leal and true heart!
To him be given to ken the heaven
He grasps in Polly Stewart:

Chorus

O lovely Polly Stewart,
O charming Polly Stewart,
There's ne'er a flower that blooms in May,
That's half so fair as thou art!

175

THE HIGHLAND BALOU

I

Hee balou, my sweet wee Donald,
Picture o' the great Clanronald!
Brawlie kens our wanton Chief
Wha gat my young Highland thief.

II

Leeze me on thy bonie craigie!
An thou live, thou'll steal a naigie,
Travel the country thro' and thro',
And bring hame a Carlisle cow!

III

Thro' the Lawlands, o'er the Border,
Weel, my babie, may thou furder,
Herry the louns o' the laigh Countrie,
Syne to the Highlands hame to me!

BANNOCKS O' BEAR MEAL

Chorus

Bannocks o' bear meal,
Bannocks o' barley,
Here's to the Highlandman's
Bannocks o' barley!

176

I

Wha in a brulyie
Will first cry ‘a parley’?
Never the lads
Wi' the bannocks o' barley!

II

Wha, in his wae days,
Were loyal to Charlie?
Wha but the lads
Wi' the bannocks o' barley!

Chorus

Bannocks o' bear meal,
Bannocks o' barley,
Here's to the Highlandman's
Bannocks o' barley!

WAE IS MY HEART

I

Wae is my heart, and the tear's in my e'e;
Lang, lang joy's been a stranger to me:
Forsaken and friendless my burden I bear,
And the sweet voice o' pity ne'er sounds in my ear.

177

II

Love, thou hast pleasures—and deep hae I lov'd!
Love thou has sorrows—and sair hae I prov'd!
But this bruisèd heart that now bleeds in my breast,
I can feel by its throbbings, will soon be at rest.

III

O, if I were where happy I hae been,
Down by yon stream and yon bonie castle green!
For there he is wand'ring and musing on me,
Wha wad soon dry the tear frae his Phillis' e'e!

HERE'S HIS HEALTH IN WATER

I

Altho' my back be at the wa',
And tho' he be the fautor,
Altho' my back be at the wa',
Yet here's his health in water!
O, wae gae by his wanton sides,
Sae brawly's he could flatter!
Till for his sake I'm slighted sair
And dree the kintra clatter!
But, tho' my back be at the wa',
Yet here's his health in water!

178

THE WINTER OF LIFE

I

But lately seen in gladsome green,
The woods rejoiced the day;
Thro' gentle showers the laughing flowers
In double pride were gay;
But now our joys are fled
On winter blasts awa,
Yet maiden May in rich array
Again shall bring them a'.

II

But my white pow—nae kindly thowe
Shall melt the snaws of Age!
My trunk of eild, but buss and bield,
Sinks in Time's wintry rage.
O, Age has weary days
And nights o' sleepless pain!
Thou golden time o' youthfu' prime,
Why comes thou not again?

179

THE TAILOR

I

The tailor he cam here to sew,
And weel he kend the way to woo,
For ay he pree'd the lassie's mou',
As he gaed but and ben, O.
For weel he kend the way, O,
The way, O, the way, O!
For weel he kend the way, O,
The lassie's heart to win, O!

II

The tailor rase and shook his duds,
The flaes they flew awa in cluds!
And them that stay'd gat fearfu' thuds—
The Tailor prov'd a man, O!
For now it was the gloamin,
The gloamin, the gloamin!
For now it was the gloamin,
When a' the rest are gaun, O!

180

THERE GROWS A BONIE BRIER-BUSH

I

There grows a bonie brier-bush in our kail-yard,
There grows a bonie brier-bush in our kail-yard;
And below the bonie brier-bush there's a lassie and a lad,
And they're busy, busy courting in our kail-yard.

II

We'll court nae mair below the buss in our kail-yard,
We'll court nae mair below the buss in our kail-yard:
We'll awa to Athole's green, and there we'll no be seen,
Where the trees and the branches will be our safeguard.

III

Will ye go to the dancin in Carlyle's ha'?
Will ye go to the dancin in Carlyle's ha',
Where Sandy and Nancy I'm sure will ding them a'?
I winna gang to the dance in Carlyle-ha'!

IV

What will I do for a lad when Sandie gangs awa!
What will I do for a lad when Sandie gangs awa!
I will awa to Edinburgh, and win a pennie fee,
And see an onie lad will fancy me.

181

V

He's comin frae the north that's to marry me,
He's comin frae the north that's to marry me,
A feather in his bonnet and a ribbon at his knee—
He's a bonie, bonie laddie, an yon be he!

HERE'S TO THY HEALTH

I

Here's to thy health, my bonie lass!
Guid night and joy be wi' thee!
I'll come nae mair to thy bower-door
To tell thee that I lo'e thee.
O, dinna think, my pretty pink,
But I can live without thee:
I vow and swear I dinna care
How lang ye look about ye!

II

Thou'rt ay sae free informing me
Thou hast nae mind to marry,
I'll be as free informing thee
Nae time hae I to tarry.
I ken thy freens try ilka means
Frae wedlock to delay thee
(Depending on some higher chance),
But fortune may betray thee.

182

III

I ken they scorn my low estate,
But that does never grieve me,
For I'm as free as any he—
Sma' siller will relieve me!
I'll count my health my greatest wealth
Sae lang as I'll enjoy it.
I'll fear nae scant, I'll bode nae want
As lang's I get employment.

IV

But far off fowls hae feathers fair,
And, ay until ye try them,
Tho' they seem fair, still have a care—
They may prove as bad as I am!
But at twel at night, when the moon shines bright,
My dear, I'll come and see thee,
For the man that loves his mistress weel,
Nae travel makes him weary.

IT WAS A' FOR OUR RIGHTFU' KING

I

It was a' for our rightfu' king
We left fair Scotland's strand;
It was a' for our rightfu' king,
We e'er saw Irish land,
My dear—
We e'er saw Irish land.

183

II

Now a' is done that men can do,
And a' is done in vain,
My Love and Native Land fareweel,
For I maun cross the main,
My dear—
For I maun cross the main.

III

He turn'd him right and round about
Upon the Irish shore,
And gae his bridle reins a shake,
With adieu for evermore,
My dear—
And adieu for evermore!

IV

The soger frae the wars returns,
The sailor frae the main,
But I hae parted frae my love
Never to meet again,
My dear—
Never to meet again.

V

When day is gane, and night is come,
And a' folk bound to sleep,
I think on him that's far awa
The lee-lang night, and weep,
My dear—
The lee-lang night and weep.

184

THE HIGHLAND WIDOW'S LAMENT

I

O, I am come to the low countrie—
Ochon, ochon, ochrie!—
Without a penny in my purse
To buy a meal to me.

II

It was na sae in the Highland hills—
Ochon, ochon, ochrie!—
Nae woman in the country wide
Sae happy was as me.

III

For then I had a score o' kye—
Ochon, ochon, ochrie!—
Feeding on yon hill sae high
And giving milk to me.

IV

And there I had three score o' yowes—
Ochon, ochon, ochrie!—
Skipping on yon bonie knowes
And casting woo' to me.

V

I was the happiest of a' the clan—
Sair, sair may I repine!—
For Donald was the brawest man,
And Donald he was mine.

185

VI

Till Charlie Stewart cam at last
Sae far to set us free:
My Donald's arm was wanted then
For Scotland and for me.

VII

Their waefu' fate what need I tell?
Right to the wrang did yield:
My Donald and his country fell
Upon Culloden field.

VIII

Ochon! O Donald, O!
Ochon, ochon, ochrie!
Nae woman in the warld wide
Sae wretched now as me!

THOU GLOOMY DECEMBER

I

Ance mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December!
Ance mair I hail thee wi' sorrow and care!
Sad was the parting thou makes me remember:
Parting wi' Nancy, O, ne'er to meet mair!

186

II

Fond lovers' parting is sweet, painful pleasure,
Hope beaming mild on the soft parting hour;
But the dire feeling, O farewell for ever!
Anguish unmingled and agony pure!

III

Wild as the winter now tearing the forest,
Till the last leaf o' the summer is flown—
Such is the tempest has shaken my bosom,
Till my last hope and last comfort is gone!

IV

Still as I hail thee, thou gloomy December,
Still shall I hail thee wi' sorrow and care;
For sad was the parting thou makes me remember:
Parting wi' Nancy, O, ne'er to meet mair!

MY PEGGY'S FACE, MY PEGGY'S FORM

I

My Peggy's face, my Peggy's form
The frost of hermit Age might warm.
My Peggy's worth, my Peggy's mind
Might charm the first of human kind.

187

II

I love my Peggy's angel air,
Her face so truly heavenly fair,
Her native grace so void of art;
But I adore my Peggy's heart.

III

The lily's hue, the rose's dye,
The kindling lustre of an eye—
Who but owns their magic sway?
Who but knows they all decay?

IV

The tender thrill, the pitying tear,
The generous purpose nobly dear,
The gentle look that rage disarms—
These are all immortal charms.

O, STEER HER UP, AN' HAUD HER GAUN

I

O, steer her up, an' haud her gaun—
Her mither's at the mill, jo,
An' gin she winna tak a man,
E'en let her tak her will, jo.

188

First shore her wi' a gentle kiss,
And ca' anither gill, jo,
An' gin she tak the thing amiss,
E'en let her flyte her fill, jo.

II

O, steer her up, an' be na blate,
An' gin she tak it ill, jo,
Then leave the lassie till her fate,
And time nae langer spill, jo!
Ne'er break your heart for ae rebute,
But think upon it still, jo,
That gin the lassie winna do't,
Ye'll fin' anither will, jo.

WEE WILLIE GRAY

I

Wee Willie Gray an' his leather wallet,
Peel a willow-wand to be him boots and jacket!
The rose upon the brier will be him trouse and doublet—
The rose upon the brier will be him trouse and doublet!

II

Wee Willie Gray and his leather wallet,
Twice a lily-flower will be him sark and gravat!
Feathers of a flie wad feather up his bonnet—
Feathers of a flie wad feather up his bonnet!

189

WE'RE A' NODDIN

Chorus

We're a' noddin,
Nid nid noddin,
We're a' noddin
At our house at hame!

I

‘Guid e'en to you, kimmer,
And how do ye do?’
‘Hiccup!’ quo' kimmer,
‘The better that I'm fou!’

II

Kate sits i' the neuk,
Suppin hen-broo.
Deil tak Kate
An she be na noddin too!

III

‘How's a' wi' you, kimmer?
And how do you fare?’
‘A pint o' the best o't,
And twa pints mair!’

190

IV

‘How's a' wi' you, kimmer?
And how do ye thrive?
How monie bairns hae ye?’
Quo' kimmer, ‘I hae five.’

V

‘Are they a' Johnie's?’
‘Eh! atweel na:
Twa o' them were gotten
When Johnie was awa!

VI

Cats like milk,
And dogs like broo;
Lads like lasses weel,
And lasses lads too.

Chorus

We're a' noddin,
Nid nid noddin,
We're a' noddin
At our house at hame!

191

O, AY MY WIFE SHE DANG ME

Chorus

O, ay my wife she dang me,
An' aft my wife she bang'd me!
If ye gie a woman a' her will,
Guid faith! she'll soon o'er-gang ye.

I

On peace an' rest my mind was bent,
And, fool I was! I married;
But never honest man's intent
Sae cursedly miscarried.

II

Some sairie comfort at the last,
When a' thir days are done, man:
My ‘pains o' hell’ on earth is past,
I'm sure o' bliss aboon, man.

Chorus

O, ay my wife she dang me,
An' aft my wife she bang'd me!
If ye gie a woman a' her will,
Guid faith! she'll soon o'ergang ye.

192

SCROGGAM

I

There was a wife wonn'd in Cockpen,
Scroggam!
She brew'd guid ale for gentlemen:
Sing Auld Cowl, lay you down by me—
Scroggam, my dearie, ruffum!

II

The guidwife's dochter fell in a fever,
Scroggam!
The priest o' the parish fell in anither:
Sing Auld Cowl, lay you down by me—
Scroggam, my dearie, ruffum!

III

They laid the twa i' the bed thegither,
Scroggam!
That the heat o' the tane might cool the tither:
Sing Auld Cowl, lay you down by me—
Scroggam, my dearie, ruffum!

193

O, GUID ALE COMES

Chorus

O, guid ale comes, and guid ale goes,
Guid ale gars me sell my hose,
Sell my hose, and pawn my shoon—
Guid ale keeps my heart aboon!

I

I had sax owsen in a pleugh,
And they drew a' weel eneugh:
I sell'd them a' just ane by ane—
Guid ale keeps the heart aboon!

II

Guid ale hauds me bare and busy,
Gars me moop wi' the servant hizzie,
Stand i' the stool when I hae dune—
Guid ale keeps the heart aboon!

Chorus

O, guid ale comes, and guid ale goes,
Guid ale gars me sell my hose,
Sell my hose, and pawn my shoon—
Guid ale keeps my heart aboon!

194

ROBIN SHURE IN HAIRST

Chorus

Robin shure in hairst,
I shure wi' him:
Fient a heuk had I,
Yet I stack by him.

I

I gaed up to Dunse
To warp a wab o' plaiden
At his daddie's yett
Wha met me but Robin!

II

Was na Robin bauld,
Tho' I was a cottar?
Play'd me sic a trick,
An' me the Eller's dochter!

III

Robin promis'd me
A' my winter vittle:
Fient haet he had but three
Guse feathers and a whittle!

195

Chorus

Robin shure in hairst,
I shure wi' him:
Fient a heuk had I,
Yet I stack by him.

DOES HAUGHTY GAUL INVASION THREAT?

I

Does haughty Gaul invasion threat?
Then let the loons beware, Sir!
There's wooden walls upon our seas
And volunteers on shore, Sir!
The Nith shall run to Corsincon,
And Criffel sink in Solway,
Ere we permit a foreign foe
On British ground to rally!

II

O, let us not, like snarling tykes,
In wrangling be divided,
Till, slap! come in an unco loun,
And wi' a rung decide it!

196

Be Britain still to Britain true,
Amang oursels united!
For never but by British hands
Maun British wrangs be righted!

III

The kettle o' the Kirk and State,
Perhaps a clout may fail in't;
But Deil a foreign tinkler loon
Shall ever ca' a nail in't!
Our fathers' blude the kettle bought,
And wha wad dare to spoil it,
By Heav'ns! the sacrilegious dog
Shall fuel be to boil it!

IV

The wretch that would a tyrant own,
And the wretch, his true-sworn brother,
Who would set the mob above the throne,
May they be damn'd together!
Who will not sing God save the King
Shall hang as high's the steeple;
But while we sing God save the King,
We'll ne'er forget the People!

197

O, ONCE I LOV'D A BONIE LASS

I

O, once I lov'd a bonie lass,
Ay, and I love her still!
And whilst that virtue warms my breast,
I'll love my handsome Nell.

II

As bonie lasses I hae seen,
And monie full as braw,
But for a modest gracefu' mien
The like I never saw.

III

A bonie lass, I will confess,
Is pleasant to the e'e;
But without some better qualities
She's no a lass for me.

IV

But Nelly's looks are blythe and sweet,
And, what is best of a',
Her reputation is complete
And fair without a flaw.

198

V

She dresses ay sae clean and neat,
Both decent and genteel;
And then there's something in her gait
Gars onie dress look weel.

VI

A gaudy dress and gentle air
May slightly touch the heart;
But it's innocence and modesty
That polishes the dart.

VII

'Tis this in Nelly pleases me,
'Tis this enchants my soul;
For absolutely in my breast
She reigns without controul.

MY LORD A-HUNTING

Chorus

My lady's gown, there's gairs upon 't,
And gowden flowers sae rare upon 't;
But Jenny's jimps and jirkinet,
My lord thinks meikle mair upon 't!

199

I

My lord a-hunting he is gane,
But hounds or hawks wi' him are nane;
By Colin's cottage lies his game,
If Colin's Jenny be at hame.

II

My lady's white, my lady's red,
And kith and kin o' Cassillis' blude;
But her ten-pund lands o' tocher guid
Were a' the charms his lordship lo'ed.

III

Out o'er yon muir, out o'er yon moss,
Whare gor-cocks thro' the heather pass,
There wons auld Colin's bonie lass,
A lily in a wilderness.

IV

Sae sweetly move her genty limbs,
Like music notes o' lovers' hymns!
The diamond-dew in her een sae blue,
Where laughing love sae wanton swims!

V

My lady's dink, my lady's drest,
The flower and fancy o' the west;
But the lassie that a man lo'es best,
O, that's the lass to mak him blest!

200

Chorus

My lady's gown, there's gairs upon 't,
And gowden flowers sae rare upon 't;
But Jenny's jimps and jirkinet,
My lord thinks meikle mair upon 't!

SWEETEST MAY

I

Sweetest May, let Love inspire thee!
Take a heart which he designs thee:
As thy constant slave regard it,
For its faith and truth reward it.

II

Proof o' shot to birth or money,
Not the wealthy but the bonie,
Not the high-born but noble-minded,
In love's silken band can bind it.

MEG O' THE MILL

I

O, ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten?
An' ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten?
A braw new naig wi' the tail o' a rottan,
And that's what Meg o' the Mill has gotten!

201

II

O, ken ye what Meg o' the Mill lo'es dearly?
An' ken ye what Meg o' the Mill lo'es dearly?
A dram o' guid strunt in a morning early,
And that's what Meg o' the Mill loes dearly!

III

O, ken ye how Meg o' the Mill was married?
An' ken ye how Meg o' the Mill was married?
The priest he was oxter'd, the clark he was carried,
And that's how Meg o' the Mill was married!

IV

O, ken ye how Meg o' the Mill was bedded?
An' ken ye how Meg o' the Mill was bedded?
The groom gat sae fu' he fell awald beside it,
And that's how Meg o' the Mill was bedded!

JOCKIE'S TA'EN THE PARTING KISS

I

Jockie's ta'en the parting kiss,
O'er the mountains he is gane,
And with him is a' my bliss—
Nought but griefs with me remain.

202

II

Spare my luve, ye winds that blaw,
Plashy sleets and beating rain!
Spare my luve, thou feathery snaw,
Drifting o'er the frozen plain!

III

When the shades of evening creep
O'er the day's fair gladsome e'e,
Sound and safely may he sleep,
Sweetly blythe his waukening be!

IV

He will think on her he loves,
Fondly he'll repeat her name;
For where'er he distant roves,
Jockie's heart is still at hame.

O, LAY THY LOOF IN MINE, LASS

Chorus

O, lay thy loof in mine, lass,
In mine, lass, in mine, lass,
And swear on thy white hand, lass,
That thou wilt be my ain!

203

I

A slave to Love's unbounded sway,
He aft has wrought me meikle wae;
But now he is my deadly fae,
Unless thou be my ain.

II

There's monie a lass has broke my rest,
That for a blink I hae lo'ed best;
But thou art queen within my breast,
For ever to remain.

Chorus

O, lay thy loof in mine, lass,
In mine, lass, in mine, lass,
And swear on thy white hand, lass,
That thou wilt be my ain!

CAULD IS THE E'ENIN BLAST

I

Cauld is the e'enin blast
O' Boreas o'er the pool
An' dawin, it is dreary,
When birks are bare at Yule.

204

II

O, cauld blaws the e'enin blast,
When bitter bites the frost,
And in the mirk and dreary drift
The hills and glens are lost!

III

Ne'er sae murky blew the night
That drifted o'er the hill,
But bonie Peg-a-Ramsay
Gat grist to her mill.

THERE WAS A BONIE LASS

I

There was a bonie lass, and a bonie, bonie lass,
And she loed her bonie laddie dear,
Till War's loud alarms tore her laddie frae her arms
Wi' monie a sigh and a tear.

II

Over sea, over shore, where the cannons loudly roar,
He still was a stranger to fear,
And nocht could him quail, or his bosom assail,
But the bonie lass he loed sae dear.

205

THERE'S NEWS, LASSES, NEWS

Chorus

The wean wants a cradle,
And the cradle wants a cod,
An' I'll no gang to my bed
Until I get a nod.

I

There's news, lasses, news,
Guid news I've to tell!
There's a boatfu' o' lads
Come to our town to sell!

II

‘Father,’ quo' she, ‘Mither,’ quo' she,
‘Do what you can:
I'll no gang to my bed
Until I get a man!’

III

I hae as guid a craft rig
As made o' yird and stane;
And waly fa' the ley-crap
For I maun till'd again.

Chorus

The wean wants a cradle,
And the cradle wants a cod,
An' I'll no gang to my bed
Until I get a nod.

206

O, THAT I HAD NE'ER BEEN MARRIED

Chorus

Ance crowdie, twice crowdie,
Three times crowdie in a day!
Gin ye crowdie onie mair,
Ye'll crowdie a' my meal away.

I

O, that I had ne'er been married,
I wad never had nae care!
Now I've gotten wife an' bairns,
An' they cry ‘Crowdie’ evermair.

II

Waefu' Want and Hunger fley me,
Glowrin by the hallan en';
Sair I fecht them at the door,
But ay I'm eerie they come ben.

Chorus

Ance crowdie, twice crowdie,
Three times crowdie in a day!
Gin ye crowdie onie mair,
Ye'll crowdie a' my meal away.

207

MALLY'S MEEK, MALLY'S SWEET

Chorus

Mally's meek, Mally's sweet,
Mally's modest and discreet,
Mally's rare, Mally's fair,
Mally's ev'ry way complete.

I

As I was walking up the street,
A barefit maid I chanc'd to meet;
But O, the road was very hard
For that fair maiden's tender feet!

II

It were mair meet that those fine feet
Were weel laced up in silken shoon!
An' 'twere more fit that she should sit
Within yon chariot gilt aboon!

Chorus

Mally's meek, Mally's sweet,
Mally's modest and discreet,
Mally's rare, Mally's fair,
Mally's ev'ry way complete.

208

WANDERING WILLIE

I

Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie,
Here awa, there awa, haud awa hame!
Come to my bosom, my ae only dearie,
And tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same.

II

Loud tho' the Winter blew cauld at our parting,
'Twas na the blast brought the tear in my e'e:
Welcome now Simmer, and welcome my Willie,
The Simmer to Nature, my Willie to me!

III

Rest, ye wild storms in the cave o' your slumbers—
How your wild howling a lover alarms!
Wauken, ye breezes, row gently, ye billows,
And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms.

IV

But O, if he's faithless, and minds na his Nannie,
Flow still between us, thou wide-roaring main!
May I never see it, may I never trow it,
But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain!

209

BRAW LADS O' GALLA WATER

I

Braw, braw lads on Yarrow braes,
They rove amang the blooming heather;
But Yarrow braes nor Ettrick shaws
Can match the lads o' Galla Water.

II

But there is ane, a secret ane,
Aboon them a' I loe him better;
And I'll be his, and he'll be mine,
The bonie lad o' Galla Water.

III

Altho' his daddie was nae laird,
And tho' I hae nae meikle tocher,
Yet, rich in kindest, truest love,
We'll tent our flocks by Galla Water.

IV

It ne'er was wealth, it ne'er was wealth,
That coft contentment, peace, and pleasure:
The bands and bliss o' mutual love,
O, that's the chiefest warld's treasure!

210

AULD ROB MORRIS

I

There's Auld Rob Morris that wons in yon glen,
He's the king o' guid fellows and wale of auld men:
He has gowd in his coffers, he has owsen and kine,
And ae bonie lassie, his dautie and mine.

II

She's fresh as the morning the fairest in May,
She's sweet as the ev'ning amang the new hay,
As blythe and as artless as the lambs on the lea,
And dear to my heart as the light to my e'e.

III

But O, she's an heiress, auld Robin's a laird,
And my daddie has nocht but a cot-house and yard!
A wooer like me maunna hope to come speed:
The wounds I must hide that will soon be my dead.

IV

The day comes to me, but delight brings me nane;
The night comes to me, but my rest it is gane;
I wander my lane like a night-troubled ghaist,
And I sigh as my heart it wad burst in my breast.

V

O, had she but been of a lower degree,
I then might hae hop'd she wad smil'd upon me!
O, how past descriving had then been my bliss,
As now my distraction no words can express!

211

OPEN THE DOOR TO ME, O

I

O, open the door some pity to shew,
If love it may na be, O!
Tho' thou hast been false, I'll ever prove true—
O, open the door to me, O!

II

Cauld is the blast upon my pale cheek,
But caulder thy love for me, O:
The frost, that freezes the life at my heart,
Is nought to my pains frae thee, O!

III

The wan moon sets behind the white wave,
And Time is setting with me, O:
False friends, false love, farewell! for mair
I'll ne'er trouble them nor thee, O!

IV

She has open'd the door, she has open'd it wide,
She sees the pale corse on the plain, O,
‘My true love!’ she cried, and sank down by his side—
Never to rise again, O!

212

WHEN WILD WAR'S DEADLY BLAST

I

When wild War's deadly blast was blawn,
And gentle Peace returning,
Wi' monie a sweet babe fatherless
And monie a widow mourning,
I left the lines and tented field,
Where lang I'd been a lodger,
My humble knapsack a' my wealth,
A poor and honest sodger.

II

A leal, light heart was in my breast,
My hand unstain'd wi' plunder,
And for fair Scotia, hame again,
I cheery on did wander:
I thought upon the banks o' Coil,
I thought upon my Nancy,
And ay I mind't the witching smile
That caught my youthful fancy.

III

At length I reach'd the bonie glen,
Where early life I sported.
I pass'd the mill and trysting thorn,
Where Nancy aft I courted.

213

Wha spied I but my ain dear maid,
Down by her mother's dwelling,
And turn'd me round to hide the flood
That in my een was swelling!

IV

Wi' alter'd voice, quoth I:—‘Sweet lass,
Sweet as yon hawthorn's blossom,
O, happy, happy may he be,
That's dearest to thy bosom!
My purse is light, I've far to gang,
And fain wad be thy lodger;
I've serv'd my king and country lang—
Take pity on a sodger.’

V

Sae wistfully she gaz'd on me,
And lovelier was than ever.
Quo' she:—‘A sodger ance I lo'ed,
Forget him shall I never.
Our humble cot, and hamely fare,
Ye freely shall partake it;
That gallant badge—the dear cockade—
Ye're welcome for the sake o't!’

VI

She gaz'd, she redden'd like a rose,
Syne, pale like onie lily,
She sank within my arms, and cried:—
‘Art thou my ain dear Willie?’

214

‘By Him who made yon sun and sky,
By whom true love's regarded,
I am the man! And thus may still
True lovers be rewarded!

VII

‘The wars are o'er and I'm come hame,
And find thee still true-hearted.
Tho' poor in gear, we're rich in love,
And mair, we'se ne'er be parted.’
Quo' she :—‘My grandsire left me gowd,
A mailen plenish'd fairly!
And come, my faithfu' sodger lad,
Thou 'rt welcome to it dearly!’

VIII

For gold the merchant ploughs the main,
The farmer ploughs the manor;
But glory is the sodger's prize,
The sodger's wealth is honour!
The brave poor sodger ne'er despise,
Nor count him as a stranger:
Remember he's his country's stay
In day and hour of danger.

215

DUNCAN GRAY

I

Duncan Gray cam here to woo
(Ha, ha, the wooing o't!)
On blythe Yule-Night when we were fou
(Ha, ha, the wooing o't!).
Maggie coost her head fu' high,
Look'd asklent and unco skeigh,
Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh—
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!

II

Duncan fleech'd, and Duncan pray'd
(Ha, ha, the wooing o't!),
Meg was deaf as Ailsa craig
(Ha, ha, the wooing o't!).
Duncan sigh'd baith out and in,
Grat his een baith bleer't an' blin',
Spak o' lowpin o'er a linn—
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!

III

Time and Chance are but a tide
(Ha, ha, the wooing o't!):
Slighted love is sair to bide
(Ha, ha, the wooing o't!).

216

‘Shall I like a fool,’ quoth he,
‘For a haughty hizzie die?
She may gae to—France for me!’—
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!

IV

How it comes, let doctors tell
(Ha, ha, the wooing o't!):
Meg grew sick, as he grew hale
(Ha, ha, the wooing o't!).
Something in her bosom wrings,
For relief a sigh she brings,
And O! her een they spak sic things!—
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!

V

Duncan was a lad o' grace
(Ha, ha, the wooing o't!),
Maggie's was a piteous case
(Ha, ha, the wooing o't!):
Duncan could na be her death,
Swelling pity smoor'd his wrath;
Now they're crouse and canty baith—
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!

217

DELUDED SWAIN, THE PLEASURE

I

Deluded swain, the pleasure
The fickle Fair can give thee
Is but a fairy treasure—
Thy hopes will soon deceive thee:
The billows on the ocean,
The breezes idly roaming,
The cloud's uncertain motion,
They are but types of Woman!

II

O, art thou not ashamèd
To doat upon a feature?
If Man thou would'st be namèd,
Despise the silly creature!
Go, find an honest fellow,
Good claret set before thee,
Hold on till thou art mellow,
And then to bed in glory!

218

HERE IS THE GLEN

I

Here is the glen, and here the bower
All underneath the birchen shade,
The village-bell has toll'd the hour—
O, what can stay my lovely maid?
'Tis not Maria's whispering call—
'Tis but the balmy-breathing gale,
Mixed with some warbler's dying fall
The dewy star of eve to hail!

II

It is Maria's voice I hear!—
So calls the woodlark in the grove
His little faithful mate to cheer:
At once 'tis music and 'tis love!
And art thou come? And art thou true?
O, welcome, dear, to love and me,
And let us all our vows renew
Along the flowery banks of Cree!

219

LET NOT WOMEN E'ER COMPLAIN

I

Let not women e'er complain
Of inconstancy in love!
Let not women e'er complain
Fickle man is apt to rove!
Look abroad thro' Nature's range,
Nature's mighty law is change:
Ladies, would it not be strange
Man should then a monster prove?

II

Mark the winds, and mark the skies,
Ocean's ebb and ocean's flow.
Sun and moon but set to rise.
Round and round the seasons go.
Why then, ask of silly man
To oppose great Nature's plan?
We'll be constant, while we can—
You can be no more, you know!

220

LORD GREGORY

I

O, mirk, mirk is this midnight hour,
And loud the tempest's roar!
A waefu' wanderer seeks thy tower—
Lord Gregory, ope thy door.

II

An exile frae her father's ha',
And a' for sake o' thee,
At least some pity on me shaw,
If love it may na be.

III

Lord Gregory mind'st thou not the grove
By bonie Irwine side,
Where first I own'd that virgin love
I lang, lang had denied?

IV

How aften didst thou pledge and vow,
Thou wad for ay be mine!
And my fond heart, itsel' sae true,
It ne'er mistrusted thine.

221

V

Hard is thy heart, Lord Gregory,
And flinty is thy breast:
Thou bolt of Heaven that flashest by,
O, wilt thou bring me rest!

VI

Ye mustering thunders from above,
Your willing victim see,
But spare and pardon my fause love
His wrangs to Heaven and me!

O POORTITH CAULD

Chorus

O, why should Fate sic pleasure have
Life's dearest bands untwining?
Or why sae sweet a flower as love
Depend on Fortune's shining?

I

O Poortith cauld and restless Love,
Ye wrack my peace between ye!
Yet poortith a' I could forgive,
An 'twere na for my Jeanie.

222

II

The warld's wealth when I think on,
Its pride and a' the lave o't—
My curse on silly coward man,
That he should be the slave o't!

III

Her een sae bonie blue betray
How she repays my passion;
But prudence is her o'erword ay:
She talks o' rank and fashion.

IV

O, wha can prudence think upon,
And sic a lassie by him?
O, wha can prudence think upon,
And sae in love as I am?

V

How blest the wild-wood Indian's fate!
He woos his artless dearie—
The silly bogles, Wealth and State,
Can never make him eerie.

Chorus

O, why should Fate sic pleasure have,
Life's dearest bands untwining?
Or why sae sweet a flower as love
Depend on Fortune's shining?

223

O, STAY, SWEET WARBLING WOOD-LARK

I

O, stay, sweet warbling wood-lark, stay,
Nor quit for me the trembling spray!
A hapless lover courts thy lay,
Thy soothing, fond complaining.
Again, again that tender part,
That I may catch thy melting art!
For surely that wad touch her heart,
Wha kills me wi' disdaining.

II

Say, was thy little mate unkind,
And heard thee as the careless wind?
O, nocht but love and sorrow join'd
Sic notes o' woe could wauken!
Thou tells o' never-ending care,
O' speechless grief and dark despair—
For pity's sake, sweet bird, nae mair,
Or my poor heart is broken!

224

SAW YE BONIE LESLEY

I

O, saw ye bonie Lesley,
As she gaed o'er the Border?
She's gane, like Alexander,
To spread her conquests farther!

II

To see her is to love her,
And love but her for ever;
For Nature made her what she is,
And never made anither!

III

Thou art a queen, fair Lesley—
Thy subjects, we before thee!
Thou art divine, fair Lesley—
The hearts o' men adore thee.

IV

The Deil he could na skaith thee,
Or aught that wad belang thee:
He'd look into thy bonie face,
And say:—‘I canna wrang thee!’

225

V

The Powers aboon will tent thee,
Misfortune sha'na steer thee:
Thou 'rt like themsel' sae lovely,
That ill they 'll ne'er let near thee.

VI

Return again, fair Lesley,
Return to Caledonie!
That we may brag we hae a lass
There's nane again sae bonie.

SWEET FA'S THE EVE

I

Sweet fa's the eve on Craigieburn,
And blythe awakes the morrow,
But a' the pride o' Spring's return
Can yield me nocht but sorrow.

II

I see the flowers and spreading trees,
I hear the wild birds singing;
But what a weary wight can please,
And Care his bosom is wringing?

226

III

Fain, fain would I my griefs impart,
Yet dare na for your anger;
But secret love will break my heart,
If I conceal it langer.

IV

If thou refuse to pity me,
If thou shalt love another,
When yon green leaves fade frae the tree,
Around my grave they'll wither.

YOUNG JESSIE

I

True hearted was he, the sad swain o' the Yarrow,
And fair are the maids on the banks of the Ayr;
But by the sweet side o' the Nith's winding river
Are lovers as faithful and maidens as fair:
To equal young Jessie you seek Scotia all over—
To equal young Jessie you seek it in vain!
Grace, beauty, and elegance fetter her lover,
And maidenly modesty fixes the chain.

227

II

Fresh is the rose in the gay, dewy morning,
And sweet is the lily at evening close;
But in the fair presence o' lovely young Jessie
Unseen is the lily, unheeded the rose.
Love sits in her smile, a wizard ensnaring;
Enthron'd in her een he delivers his law;
And still to her charms she alone is a stranger:
Her modest demeanour's the jewel of a'.

ADOWN WINDING NITH

Chorus

Awa wi' your belles and your beauties—
They never wi' her can compare!
Whaever hae met wi' my Phillis
Has met wi' the Queen o' the Fair!

I

Adown winding Nith I did wander
To mark the sweet flowers as they spring.
Adown winding Nith I did wander
Of Phillis to muse and to sing.

II

The Daisy amus'd my fond fancy,
So artless, so simple, so wild:
‘Thou emblem,’ said I, ‘o' my Phillis’—
For she is Simplicity's child.

228

III

The rose-bud's the blush o' my charmer,
Her sweet balmy lip when 'tis prest.
How fair and how pure is the lily!
But fairer and purer her breast.

IV

Yon knot of gay flowers in the arbour,
They ne'er wi' my Phillis can vie:
Her breath is the breath of the woodbine,
Its dew-drop o' diamond her eye.

V

Her voice is the song o' the morning,
That wakes thro' the green-spreading grove,
When Phebus peeps over the mountains
On music, and pleasure, and love.

VI

But Beauty, how frail and how fleeting!
The bloom of a fine summer's day!
While Worth in the mind o' my Phillis
Will flourish without a decay.

Chorus

Awa wi' your belles and your beauties—
They never wi' her can compare!
Whaever hae met wi' my Phillis
Has met wi' the Queen o' the Fair!

229

A LASS WI' A TOCHER

Chorus

Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher,
Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher,
Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher,
The nice yellow guineas for me!

I

Awa wi' your witchcraft o' Beauty's alarms,
The slender bit beauty you grasp in your arms!
O, gie me the lass that has acres o' charms!
O, gie me the lass wi' the weel-stockit farms!

II

Your Beauty's a flower in the morning that blows,
And withers the faster the faster it grows;
But the rapturous charm o' the bonie green knowes,
Ilk spring they're new deckit wi' bonie white yowes!

III

And e'en when this Beauty your bosom has blest,
The brightest o' Beauty may cloy when possess'd;
But the sweet, yellow darlings wi' Geordie impress'd,
The langer ye hae them, the mair they're carest!

230

Chorus

Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher,
Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher,
Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher,
The nice yellow guineas for me!

BLYTHE HAE I BEEN ON YON HILL

I

Blythe hae I been on yon hill
As the lambs before me,
Careless ilka thought, and free
As the breeze flew o'er me.
Now nae langer sport and play,
Mirth or sang can please me:
Lesley is sae fair and coy,
Care and anguish seize me.

II

Heavy, heavy is the task,
Hopeless love declaring!
Trembling, I dow nocht but glow'r,
Sighing, dumb despairing!
If she winna ease the thraws
In my bosom swelling,
Underneath the grass-green sod
Soon maun be my dwelling.

231

BY ALLAN STREAM

I

By Allan stream I chanc'd to rove,
While Phebus sank beyond Benledi;
The winds were whispering thro' the grove,
The yellow corn was waving ready;
I listen'd to a lover's sang,
An' thought on youthfu' pleasures monie,
And ay the wild-wood echoes rang:—
‘O, my love Annie's very bonie!

II

‘O, happy be the woodbine bower,
Nae nightly bogle make it eerie!
Nor ever sorrow stain the hour,
The place and time I met my dearie!
Her head upon my throbbing breast,
She, sinking, said:—“I'm thine for ever!”
While monie a kiss the seal imprest—
The sacred vow we ne'er should sever.’

III

The haunt o' Spring's the primrose-brae.
The Summer joys the flocks to follow.
How cheery thro' her short'ning day
Is Autumn in her weeds o' yellow!

232

But can they melt the glowing heart,
Or chain the soul in speechless pleasure,
Or thro' each nerve the rapture dart,
Like meeting her, our bosom's treasure?

CANST THOU LEAVE ME

Chorus

Canst thou leave me thus, my Katie!
Canst thou leave me thus, my Katie!
Well thou know'st my aching heart,
And canst thou leave me thus for pity?

I

Is this thy plighted, fond regard:
Thus cruelly to part, my Katie?
Is this thy faithful swain's reward:
An aching broken heart, my Katie?

II

Farewell! And ne'er such sorrows tear
That fickle heart of thine, my Katie!
Thou may'st find those will love thee dear,
But not a love like mine, my Katie.

Chorus

Canst thou leave me thus, my Katie!
Canst thou leave me thus, my Katie!
Well thou know'st my aching heart,
And canst thou leave me thus for pity?

233

COME, LET ME TAKE THEE

I

Come, let me take thee to my breast,
And pledge we ne'er shall sunder,
And I shall spurn as vilest dust
The world's wealth and grandeur!
And do I hear my Jeanie own
That equal transports move her?
I ask for dearest life alone,
That I may live to love her.

II

Thus in my arms, wi' a' her charms,
I clasp my countless treasure,
I'll seek nae mair o' Heav'n to share
Than sic a moment's pleasure!
And by thy een sae bonie blue
I swear I'm thine for ever,
And on thy lips I seal my vow,
And break it shall I never!

234

CONTENTED WI' LITTLE

I

Contented wi' little and cantie wi' mair,
Whene'er I forgather wi' Sorrow and Care,
I gie them a skelp, as they're creepin alang,
Wi' a cog o' guid swats and an auld Scottish sang.

II

I whyles claw the elbow o' troublesome Thought;
But Man is a soger, and Life is a faught.
My mirth and guid humour are coin in my pouch,
And my Freedom's my lairdship nae monarch daur touch.

III

A towmond o' trouble, should that be my fa',
A night o' guid fellowship sowthers it a':
When at the blythe end o' our journey at last,
Wha the Deil ever thinks o' the road he has past?

IV

Blind Chance, let her snapper and stoyte on her way,
Be't to me, be't frae me, e'en let the jade gae!
Come Ease or come Travail, come Pleasure or Pain,
My warst word is:—‘Welcome, and welcome again!’

235

FAREWELL, THOU STREAM

I

Farewell, thou stream that winding flows
Around Eliza's dwelling!
O Mem'ry, spare the cruel throes
Within my bosom swelling:
Condemn'd to drag a hopeless chain
And yet in secret languish,
To feel a fire in every vein
Nor dare disclose my anguish!

II

Love's veriest wretch, unseen, unknown,
I fain my griefs would cover:
The bursting sigh, th'unweeting groan
Betray the hapless lover.
I know thou doom'st me to despair,
Nor wilt, nor canst relieve me;
But, O Eliza, hear one prayer—
For pity's sake forgive me!

III

The music of thy voice I heard,
Nor wist while it enslav'd me!
I saw thine eyes, yet nothing fear'd,
Till fears no more had sav'd me!

236

Th'unwary sailor thus, aghast
The wheeling torrent viewing,
'Mid circling horrors sinks at last
In overwhelming ruin.

HAD I A CAVE

I

Had I a cave
On some wild distant shore,
Where the winds howl
To the wave's dashing roar,
There would I weep my woes,
There seek my lost repose,
Till grief my eyes should close,
Ne'er to wake more!

II

Falsest of womankind,
Can'st thou declare
All thy fond, plighted vows
Fleeting as air?
To thy new lover hie,
Laugh o'er thy perjury,
Then in thy bosom try
What peace is there!

237

HERE'S A HEALTH

Chorus

Here's a health to ane I loe dear!
Here's a health to ane I loe dear!
Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet,
And soft as their parting tear,
Jessy—
And soft as their parting tear!

I

Altho' thou maun never be mine,
Altho' even hope is denied,
'Tis sweeter for thee despairing
Than ought in the world beside,
Jessy—
Than ought in the world beside!

II

I mourn thro' the gay, gaudy day,
As hopeless I muse on thy charms;
But welcome the dream o' sweet slumber!
For then I am lockt in thine arms,
Jessy—
For then I am lockt in thine arms!

238

Chorus

Here's a health to ane I loe dear!
Here's a health to ane I loe dear!
Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet,
And soft as their parting tear,
Jessy—
And soft as their parting tear!

HOW CRUEL ARE THE PARENTS

I

How cruel are the parents
Who riches only prize,
And to the wealthy booby
Poor Woman sacrifice!
Meanwhile the hapless daughter
Has but a choice of strife:
To shun a tyrant father's hate
Become a wretched wife!

II

The ravening hawk pursuing,
The trembling dove thus flies:
To shun impending ruin
Awhile her pinion tries,

239

Till, of escape despairing,
No shelter or retreat,
She trusts the ruthless falconer,
And drops beneath his feet.

HUSBAND, HUSBAND, CEASE YOUR STRIFE

I

Husband, husband, cease your strife,
Nor longer idly rave, sir!
Tho' I am your wedded wife,
Yet I am not your slave, sir.
‘One of two must still obey,
Nancy, Nancy!
Is it Man or Woman, say,
My spouse Nancy?’

II

‘If 'tis still the lordly word,
Service and obedience,
I'll desert my sov'reign lord,
And so goodbye, allegiance!’
‘Sad will I be so bereft,
Nancy, Nancy!
Yet I'll try to make a shift,
My spouse Nancy!’

240

III

‘My poor heart, then break it must,
My last hour I am near it:
When you lay me in the dust,
Think, how will you bear it?’
‘I will hope and trust in Heaven,
Nancy, Nancy!
Strength to bear it will be given,
My spouse Nancy.’

IV

‘Well, sir, from the silent dead,
Still I'll try to daunt you:
Ever round your midnight bed
Horrid sprites shall haunt you!’
‘I'll wed another like my dear,
Nancy, Nancy!
Then all Hell will fly for fear,
My spouse Nancy!’

IT WAS THE CHARMING MONTH

Chorus

Lovely was she by the dawn,
Youthful Chloe, charming Chloe,
Tripping o'er the pearly lawn,
The youthful, charming Chloe!

241

I

It was the charming month of May,
When all the flow'rs were fresh and gay,
One morning, by the break of day,
The youthful, charming Chloe,
From peaceful slumber she arose,
Girt on her mantle and her hose,
And o'er the flow'ry mead she goes—
The youthful, charming Chloe!

II

The feather'd people you might see
Perch'd all around on every tree!
With notes of sweetest melody
They hail the charming Chloe,
Till, painting gay the eastern skies,
The glorious sun began to rise,
Outrival'd by the radiant eyes
Of youthful, charming Chloe.

Chorus

Lovely was she by the dawn,
Youthful Chloe, charming Chloe,
Tripping o'er the pearly lawn,
The youthful, charming Chloe!

242

LAST MAY A BRAW WOOER

I

Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen,
And sair wi' his love he did deave me.
I said there was naething I hated like men:
The deuce gae wi'm to believe me, believe me—
The deuce gae wi'm to believe me!

II

He spak o' the darts in my bonie black een,
And vow'd for my love he was diein.
I said, he might die when he liket for Jean:
The Lord forgie me for liein, for liein—
The Lord forgie me for liein!

III

A weel-stocket mailen, himsel for the laird,
And marriage aff-hand were his proffers:
I never loot on that I kenn'd it, or car'd,
But thought I might hae waur offers, waur offers—
But thought I might hae waur offers.

IV

But what wad ye think? In a fortnight or less
(The Deil tak his taste to gae near her!)
He up the Gate-Slack to my black cousin, Bess!
Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her, could bear her—
Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her.

243

V

But a' the niest week, as I petted wi' care,
I gaed to the tryste o' Dalgarnock,
And wha but my fine fickle lover was there?
I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock, a warlock—
I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock.

VI

But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink,
Lest neebours might say I was saucy.
My wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink,
And vow'd I was his dear lassie, dear lassie—
And vow'd I was his dear lassie!

VII

I spier'd for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet:
Gin she had recover'd her hearin?
And how her new shoon fit her auld, shachl'd feet?
But heavens! how he fell a swearin, a swearin—
But heavens! how he fell a swearin!

VIII

He beggèd, for gudesake, I wad be his wife,
Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrow;
So e'en to preserve the poor body in life,
I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow—
I think I maun wed him to-morrow!

244

MY NANIE'S AWA

I

Now in her green mantle blythe Nature arrays,
And listens the lambkins that bleat o'er the braes,
While birds warble welcomes in ilka green shaw,
But to me it's delightless—my Nanie's awa.

II

The snawdrap and primrose our woodlands adorn,
And violets bathe in the weet o' the morn.
They pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly they blaw:
They mind me o' Nanie—and Nanie's awa!

III

Thou lav'rock, that springs frae the dews of the lawn
The shepherd to warn o' the grey-breaking dawn,
And thou mellow mavis, that hails the night-fa,
Give over for pity—my Nanie's awa.

IV

Come Autumn, sae pensive in yellow and grey,
And soothe me wi' tidings o' Nature's decay!
The dark, dreary Winter and wild-driving snaw
Alane can delight me—now Nanie's awa.

245

NOW ROSY MAY

Chorus

Meet me on the Warlock Knowe,
Dainty Davie, Dainty Davie!
There I'll spend the day wi' you,
My ain dear Dainty Davie.

I

Now rosy May comes in wi' flowers
To deck her gay, green-spreading bowers;
And now comes in the happy hours
To wander wi' my Davie.

II

The crystal waters round us fa',
The merry birds are lovers a',
The scented breezes round us blaw,
A wandering wi' my Davie.

III

When purple morning starts the hare
To steal upon her early fare,
Then thro' the dews I will repair
To meet my faithfu' Davie.

246

IV

When day, expiring in the west,
The curtain draws o' Nature's rest,
I flee to his arms I loe the best:
And that's my ain dear Davie!

Chorus

Meet me on the Warlock Knowe,
Dainty Davie, Dainty Davie!
There I'll spend the day wi' you,
My ain dear Dainty Davie.

NOW SPRING HAS CLAD

I

Now spring has clad the grove in green,
And strew'd the lea wi' flowers;
The furrow'd, waving corn is seen
Rejoice in fostering showers;
While ilka thing in nature join
Their sorrows to forego,
O, why thus all alone are mine
The weary steps o' woe!

II

The trout within yon wimpling burn
Glides swift, a silver dart,
And, safe beneath the shady thorn,
Defies the angler's art:

247

My life was ance that careless stream,
That wanton trout was I,
But Love wi' unrelenting beam
Has scorch'd my fountains dry.

III

The little floweret's peaceful lot,
In yonder cliff that grows,
Which, save the linnet's flight, I wot,
Nae ruder visit knows,
Was mine, till Love has o'er me past,
And blighted a' my bloom;
And now beneath the withering blast
My youth and joy consume.

IV

The waken'd lav'rock warbling springs,
And climbs the early sky,
Winnowing blythe his dewy wings
In Morning's rosy eye:
As little reck't I Sorrow's power,
Until the flowery snare
O' witching Love in luckless hour
Made me the thrall o' care!

V

O, had my fate been Greenland snows
Or Afric's burning zone,
Wi' Man and Nature leagu'd my foes,
So Peggy ne'er I'd known!

248

The wretch, whose doom is ‘hope nae mair,’
What tongue his woes can tell,
Within whose bosom, save Despair,
Nae kinder spirits dwell!

O, THIS IS NO MY AIN LASSIE

Chorus

O, this is no my ain lassie,
Fair tho' the lassie be:
Weel ken I my ain lassie—
Kind love is in her e'e.

I

I see a form, I see a face,
Ye weel may wi' the fairest place:
It wants to me the witching grace,
The kind love that's in her e'e.

II

She's bonie, blooming, straight, and tall,
And lang has had my heart in thrall;
And ay it charms my very saul,
The kind love that's in the e'e.

249

III

A thief sae pawkie is my Jean,
To steal a blink by a' unseen!
But gleg as light are lover's een,
When kind love is in the e'e.

IV

It may escape the courtly sparks,
It may escape the learned clerks;
But well the watching lover marks
The kind love that's in her e'e.

Chorus

O, this is no my ain lassie,
Fair tho' the lassie be:
Weel ken I my ain lassie—
Kind love is in her e'e.

O, WAT YE WHA THAT LO'ES ME

Chorus

O, that's the lassie o' my heart,
My lassie ever dearer!
O, that's the queen o' womankind,
And ne'er a ane to peer her!

250

I

O, wat ye wha that lo'es me,
And has my heart a keeping?
O, sweet is she that lo'es me
As dews o' summer weeping,
In tears the rosebuds steeping!

II

If thou shalt meet a lassie
In grace and beauty charming,
That e'en thy chosen lassie,
Erewhile thy breast sae warming,
Had ne'er sic powers alarming:—

III

If thou hadst heard her talking
(And thy attention's plighted),
That ilka body talking
But her by thee is slighted,
And thou art all-delighted:—

IV

If thou hast met this fair one,
When frae her thou hast parted,
If every other fair one
But her thou hast deserted,
And thou art broken-hearted:—

251

Chorus

O, that's the lassie o' my heart,
My lassie ever dearer!
O, that's the queen o' womankind,
And ne'er a ane to peer her!

SCOTS, WHA HAE

I

Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led,
Welcome to your gory bed
Or to victorie!

II

Now's the day, and now's the hour:
See the front o' battle lour,
See approach proud Edward's power—
Chains and slaverie!

III

Wha will be a traitor knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a slave?—
Let him turn, and flee!

252

IV

Wha for Scotland's King and Law
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Freeman stand or freeman fa',
Let him follow me!

V

By Oppression's woes and pains,
By your sons in servile chains,
We will drain our dearest veins
But they shall be free!

VI

Lay the proud usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty's in every blow!
Let us do, or die!

THEIR GROVES O' SWEET MYRTLE

I

Their groves o' sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon,
Where bright-beaming summers exalt the perfume!
Far dearer to me yon lone glen o' green breckan,
Wi' the burn stealing under the lang, yellow broom;

253

Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowers,
Where the blue-bell and gowan lurk lowly, unseen;
For there, lightly tripping among the wild flowers,
A-list'ning the linnet, aft wanders my Jean.

II

Tho' rich is the breeze in their gay, sunny vallies,
And cauld Caledonia's blast on the wave,
Their sweet-scented woodlands that skirt the proud palace,
What are they?—The haunt of the tyrant and slave!
The slave's spicy forests and gold-bubbling fountains
The brave Caledonian views wi' disdain:
He wanders as free as the winds of his mountains,
Save Love's willing fetters—the chains o' his Jean.

THINE AM I

I

Thine am I, my faithful Fair,
Thine my lovely Nancy!
Ev'ry pulse along my veins,
Ev'ry roving fancy!
To thy bosom lay my heart
There to throb and languish.
Tho' despair had wrung its core,
That would heal its anguish.

254

II

Take away those rosy lips
Rich with balmy treasure!
Turn away thine eyes of love,
Lest I die with pleasure!
What is life when wanting love?
Night without a morning!
Love the cloudless summer's sun,
Nature gay adorning.

THOU HAST LEFT ME EVER, JAMIE

I

Thou hast left me ever, Jamie,
Thou hast left me ever!
Thou hast left me ever, Jamie,
Thou hast left me ever!
Aften hast thou vow'd that Death
Only should us sever;
Now thou'st left thy lass for ay—
I maun see thee never, Jamie,
I'll see thee never!

II

Thou hast me forsaken, Jamie,
Thou hast me forsaken!
Thou hast me forsaken, Jamie,
Thou hast me forsaken!

255

Thou canst love another jo,
While my heart is breaking
Soon my weary een I'll close,
Never mair to waken, Jamie,
Never mair to waken!

HIGHLAND MARY

I

Ye banks and braes and streams around
The castle o' Montgomery,
Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie!
There Summer first unfald her robes,
And there the langest tarry!
For there I took the last fareweel
O' my sweet Highland Mary!

II

How sweetly bloom'd the gay, green birk,
How rich the hawthorn's blossom,
As underneath their fragrant shade
I clasp'd her to my bosom!
The golden hours on angel wings
Flew o'er me and my dearie:
For dear to me as light and life
Was my sweet Highland Mary.

256

III

Wi' monie a vow and lock'd embrace
Our parting was fu' tender;
And, pledging aft to meet again,
We tore oursels asunder.
But O, fell Death's untimely frost,
That nipt my flower sae early!
Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay,
That wraps my Highland Mary!

IV

O, pale, pale now, those rosy lips
I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly;
And clos'd for ay, the sparkling glance
That dwalt on me sae kindly;
And mouldering now in silent dust
That heart that lo'ed me dearly!
But still within my bosom's core
Shall live my Highland Mary.

MY CHLORIS, MARK

I

My Chloris, mark how green the groves,
The primrose banks how fair!
The balmy gales awake the flowers,
And wave thy flaxen hair.

257

II

The lav'rock shuns the palace gay,
And o'er the cottage sings:
For Nature smiles as sweet, I ween,
To shepherds as to kings.

III

Let minstrels sweep the skilfu' string
In lordly, lighted ha':
The shepherd stops his simple reed,
Blythe in the birken shaw.

IV

The princely revel may survey
Our rustic dance wi' scorn;
But are their hearts as light as ours
Beneath the milk-white thorn?

V

The shepherd in the flowery glen
In shepherd's phrase will woo:
The courtier tells a finer tale—
But is his heart as true?

VI

Here wild-wood flowers I've pu'd, to deck
That spotless breast o' thine:
The courtier's gems may witness love—
But 'tis na love like mine!

258

FAIREST MAID ON DEVON BANKS

Chorus

Fairest maid on Devon banks,
Crystal Devon, winding Devon,
Wilt thou lay that frown aside,
And smile as thou wert wont to do?

I

Full well thou know'st I love thee dear—
Couldst thou to malice lend an ear!
O, did not Love exclaim:—‘Forbear,
Nor use a faithful lover so!’

II

Then come, thou fairest of the fair,
Those wonted smiles, O, let me share,
And by thy beauteous self I swear
No love but thine my heart shall know!

Chorus

Fairest maid on Devon banks,
Crystal Devon, winding Devon,
Wilt thou lay that frown aside,
And smile as thou wert wont to do?

259

LASSIE WI' THE LINT-WHITE LOCKS

Chorus

Lassie wi' the lint-white locks,
Bonie lassie, artless lassie,
Wilt thou wi' me tent the flocks—
Wilt thou be my dearie, O?

I

Now Nature cleeds the flowery lea,
And a' is young and sweet like thee,
O, wilt thou share its joys wi' me,
And say thou'lt be my dearie, O?

II

The primrose bank, the wimpling burn,
The cuckoo on the milk-white thorn,
The wanton lambs at early morn
Shall welcome thee, my dearie, O.

III

And when the welcome simmer shower
Has cheer'd ilk drooping little flower,
We'll to the breathing woodbine-bower
At sultry noon, my dearie, O.

260

IV

When Cynthia lights wi' silver ray
The weary shearer's hameward way,
Thro' yellow waving fields we'll stray,
And talk o' love, my dearie, O.

V

And when the howling wintry blast
Disturbs my lassie's midnight rest,
Enclaspèd to my faithfu' breast,
I'll comfort thee, my dearie, O.

Chorus

Lassie wi' the lint-white locks,
Bonie lassie, artless lassie,
Wilt thou wi' me tent the flocks—
Wilt thou be my dearie, O?

LONG, LONG THE NIGHT

Chorus

Long, long the night,
Heavy comes the morrow,
While my soul's delight
Is on her bed of sorrow.

261

I

Can I cease to care,
Can I cease to languish,
While my darling fair
Is on the couch of anguish!

II

Ev'ry hope is fled,
Ev'ry fear is terror:
Slumber ev'n I dread,
Ev'ry dream is horror.

III

Hear me, Powers Divine:
O, in pity, hear me!
Take aught else mine,
But my Chloris spare me!

Chorus

Long, long the night,
Heavy comes the morrow,
While my soul's delight
Is on her bed of sorrow.

262

LOGAN WATER

I

O Logan, sweetly didst thou glide
That day I was my Willie's bride,
And years sin syne hae o'er us run
Like Logan to the simmer sun.
But now thy flowery banks appear
Like drumlie winter, dark and drear,
While my dear lad maun face his faes
Far, far frae me and Logan braes.

II

Again the merry month of May
Has made our hills and vallies gay;
The birds rejoice in leafy bowers,
The bees hum round the breathing flowers;
Blythe Morning lifts his rosy eye,
And Evening's tears are tears o' joy:
My soul delightless a' surveys,
While Willie's far frae Logan braes.

III

Within yon milk-white hawthorn bush,
Amang her nestlings sits the thrush:
Her faithfu' mate will share her toil,
Or wi' his song her cares beguile.

263

But I wi' my sweet nurslings here,
Nae mate to help, nae mate to cheer,
Pass widow'd nights and joyless days,
While Willie's far frae Logan braes.

IV

O, wae upon you, Men o' State,
That brethren rouse in deadly hate!
As ye make monie a fond heart mourn,
Sae may it on your heads return!
Ye mindna 'mid your cruel joys
The widow's tears, the orphan's cries;
But soon may peace bring happy days,
And Willie hame to Logan braes!

YON ROSY BRIER

I

O, bonie was yon rosy brier
That blooms sae far frae haunt o' man,
And bonie she—and ah, how dear!—
It shaded frae the e'enin sun!

II

Yon rosebuds in the morning dew,
How pure among the leaves sae green!
But purer was the lover's vow
They witnessed in their shade yestreen.

264

III

All in its rude and prickly bower,
That crimson rose how sweet and fair!
But love is far a sweeter flower
Amid life's thorny path o' care.

IV

The pathless wild and wimpling burn,
Wi' Chloris in my arms, be mine,
And I the warld nor wish nor scorn—
Its joys and griefs alike resign!

WHERE ARE THE JOYS

I

Where are the joys I hae met in the morning,
That danc'd to the lark's early sang?
Where is the peace that awaited my wand'ring
At e'ening the wild-woods amang?

II

Nae mair a-winding the course o' yon river
And marking sweet flowerets sae fair,
Nae mair I trace the light footsteps o' Pleasure,
But Sorrow and sad-sighing Care.

265

III

Is it that Summer's forsaken our vallies,
And grim, surly Winter is near?
No, no, the bees humming round the gay roses
Proclaim it the pride o' the year.

IV

Fain wad I hide what I fear to discover,
Yet lang, lang, too well hae I known:
A' that has causèd the wreck in my bosom
Is Jenny, fair Jenny alone!

V

Time cannot aid me, my griefs are immortal,
Not Hope dare a comfort bestow.
Come then, enamor'd and fond of my anguish,
Enjoyment I'll seek in my woe!

BEHOLD THE HOUR

I

Behold the hour, the boat arrive!
Thou goest, the darling of my heart!
Sever'd from thee, can I survive?
But Fate has will'd and we must part.

266

I'll often greet the surging swell,
Yon distant isle will often hail:—
‘E'en here I took the last farewell;
There, latest mark'd her vanish'd sail.’

II

Along the solitary shore,
While flitting sea-fowl round me cry,
Across the rolling, dashing roar,
I'll westward turn my wistful eye:—
‘Happy, thou Indian grove,’ I'll say,
‘Where now my Nancy's path may be!
While thro' thy sweets she loves to stray,
O, tell me, does she muse on me?’

FORLORN MY LOVE

Chorus

O, wert thou, love, but near me,
But near, near, near me,
How kindly thou would cheer me,
And mingle sighs with mine, love!

I

Forlorn my love, no comfort near,
Far, far from thee I wander here;
Far, far from thee, the fate severe,
At which I most repine, love.

267

II

Around me scowls a wintry sky,
Blasting each bud of hope and joy,
And shelter, shade, nor home have I
Save in these arms of thine, love.

III

Cold, alter'd friendship's cruel part,
To poison Fortune's ruthless dart!
Let me not break thy faithful heart,
And say that fate is mine, love!

IV

But, dreary tho' the moments fleet,
O, let me think we yet shall meet!
That only ray of solace sweet
Can on thy Chloris shine, love!

Chorus

O, wert thou, love, but near me,
But near, near, near me,
How kindly thou would cheer me,
And mingle sighs with mine, love!

268

CA' THE YOWES TO THE KNOWES

SECOND SET

Chorus

Ca' the yowes to the knowes,
Ca' them where the heather grows,
Ca' them where the burnie rowes.
My bonie dearie.

I

Hark, the mavis' e'ening sang
Sounding Clouden's woods amang
Then a-faulding let us gang,
My bonie dearie.

II

We'll gae down by Clouden side,
Thro' the hazels, spreading wide
O'er the waves that sweetly glide
To the moon sae clearly.

III

Yonder Clouden's silent towers
Where, at moonshine's midnight hours,
O'er the dewy bending flowers
Fairies dance sae cheery.

269

IV

Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear—
Thou'rt to Love and Heav'n sae dear
Nocht of ill may come thee near,
My bonie dearie

Chorus

Ca' the yowes to the knowes,
Ca' them where the heather grows,
Ca' them where the burnie rowes,
My bonie dearie.

HOW CAN MY POOR HEART

I

How can my poor heart be glad
When absent from my sailor lad?
How can I the thought forego—
He's on the seas to meet the foe?
Let me wander, let me rove,
Still my heart is with my love.
Nightly dreams and thoughts by day
Are with him that's far away.
On the seas and far away,
On stormy seas and far away—
Nightly dreams and thoughts by day,
Are ay with him that's far away.

270

II

When in summer noon I faint,
As weary flocks around me pant,
Haply in this scorching sun
My sailor's thund'ring at his gun.
Bullets, spare my only joy!
Bullets, spare my darling boy!
Fate, do with me what you may,
Spare but him that's far away!
On the seas and far away,
On stormy seas and far away—
Fate, do with me what you may,
Spare but him that's far away!

III

At the starless, midnight hour
When Winter rules with boundless power,
As the storms the forests tear,
And thunders rend the howling air,
Listening to the doubling roar
Surging on the rocky shore,
All I can—I weep and pray
For his weal that's far away.
On the seas and far away,
On stormy seas and far away,
All I can—I weep and pray
For his weal that's far away.

271

IV

Peace, thy olive wand extend
And bid wild War his ravage end;
Man with brother man to meet,
And as brother kindly greet!
Then may Heaven with prosperous gales
Fill my sailor's welcome sails,
To my arms their charge convey,
My dear lad that's far away!
On the seas and far away,
On stormy seas and far away,
To my arms their charge convey,
My dear lad that's far away!

IS THERE FOR HONEST POVERTY

I

Is there for honest poverty
That hings his head, an' a' that?
The coward slave, we pass him by—
We dare be poor for a' that!
For a' that, an' a' that,
Our toils obscure, an' a' that,
The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The man's the gowd for a' that.

272

II

What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin grey, an' a' that?
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine—
A man's a man for a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,
Their tinsel show, an' a' that,
The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor,
Is king o' men for a' that.

III

Ye see yon birkie ca'd ‘a lord,’
Wha struts, an' stares, an' a' that?
Tho' hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a cuif for a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,
His ribband, star, an' a' that,
The man o' independent mind,
He looks an' laughs at a' that.

IV

A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an' a' that!
But an honest man's aboon his might—
Guid faith, he mauna fa' that!
For a' that, an' a' that,
Their dignities, an' a' that,
The pith o' sense an' pride o' worth
Are higher rank than a' that.

273

V

Then let us pray that come it may
(As come it will for a' that)
That Sense and Worth o'er a' the earth
Shall bear the gree an' a' that!
For a' that, an' a' that,
It's comin yet for a' that,
That man to man the world o'er
Shall brithers be for a' that.

MARK YONDER POMP

I

Mark yonder pomp of costly fashion
Round the wealthy, titled bride!
But, when compar'd with real passion,
Poor is all that princely pride.

II

What are the showy treasures?
What are the noisy pleasures?
The gay, gaudy glare of vanity and art!
The polish'd jewel's blaze
May draw the wond'ring gaze,
And courtly grandeur bright
The fancy may delight,
But never, never can come near the heart!

274

III

But did you see my dearest Chloris
In simplicity's array,
Lovely as yonder sweet opening flower is,
Shrinking from the gaze of day:

IV

O, then, the heart alarming
And all resistless charming,
In love's delightful fetters she chains the willing soul!
Ambition would disown
The world's imperial crown!
Ev'n Avarice would deny
His worshipp'd deity.
And feel thro' every vein love's raptures roll!

O, LET ME IN THIS AE NIGHT

Chorus

O, let me in this ae night,
This ae, ae, ae night!
O, let me in this ae night,
And rise, and let me in!

275

I

O lassie, are ye sleepin yet,
Or are ye waukin, I wad wit?
For Love has bound me hand an' fit,
And I would fain be in, jo.

II

Thou hear'st the winter wind an' weet:
Nae star blinks thro' the driving sleet!
Tak pity on my weary feet,
And shield me frae the rain, jo.

III

The bitter blast that round me blaws,
Unheeded howls, unheeded fa's:
The cauldness o' thy heart's the cause
Of a' my care and pine, jo.

Chorus

O, let me in this ae night,
This ae, ae, ae night!
O, let me in this ae night,
And rise and let me in!

HER ANSWER

Chorus

I tell you now this ae night,
This ae, ae, ae night,
And ance for a' this ae night,
I winna let ye in, jo.

276

I

O, tell me na o' wind an' rain,
Upbraid na me wi' cauld disdain,
Gae back the gate ye cam again,
I winna let ye in, jo!

II

The snellest blast at mirkest hours,
That round the pathless wand'rer pours
Is nocht to what poor she endures,
That's trusted faithless man, jo.

III

The sweetest flower that deck'd the mead,
Now trodden like the vilest weed—
Let simple maid the lesson read!
The weird may be her ain, jo.

IV

The bird that charm'd his summer day,
And now the cruel fowler's prey,
Let that to witless woman say:—
‘The gratefu' heart of man,’ jo

Chorus

I tell you now this ae night,
This ae, ae, ae night,
And ance for a' this ae night,
I winna let ye in, jo.

277

O PHILLY, HAPPY BE THAT DAY

Chorus

He and She.
For a' the joys that gowd can gie,
I dinna care a single flie!
The lad/lass I love's the lad/lass for me,
And that's my ain dear Willy/Philly.

He.

I

O Philly, happy be that day
When, roving thro' the gather'd hay,
My youthfu' heart was stown away,
And by thy charms, my Philly!

She.

O Willy, ay I bless the grove
Where first I own'd my maiden love,
Whilst thou did pledge the Powers above
To be my ain dear Willy.

He.

II

As songsters of the early year
Are ilka day mair sweet to hear,
So ilka day to me mair dear
And charming is my Philly.

She.

As on the brier the budding rose
Still richer breathes, and fairer blows,
So in my tender bosom grows
The love I bear my Willy.

278

He.

III

The milder sun and bluer sky,
That crown my harvest cares wi' joy,
Were ne'er sae welcome to my eye
As is a sight o' Philly.

She.

The little swallow's wanton wing,
Tho' wafting o'er the flowery spring,
Did ne'er to me sic tidings bring
As meeting o' my Willy.

He.

IV

The bee, that thro' the sunny hour
Sips nectar in the op'ning flower,
Compar'd wi' my delight is poor
Upon the lips o' Philly.

She.

The woodbine in the dewy weet,
When ev'ning shades in silence meet,
Is nocht sae fragrant or sae sweet
As is a kiss o' Willy.

He.

V

Let Fortune's wheel at random rin,
And fools may tyne, and knaves may win!
My thoughts are a' bound up on ane,
And that's my ain dear Philly.

She.

What's a' the joys that gowd can gie?
I dinna care a single flie!
The lad I love's the lad for me,
And that's my ain dear Willy.

279

Chorus

He and She.

For a' the joys that gowd can gie,
I dinna care a single flie!
The lad/lass I love's the lad/lass for me,
And that's my ain dear Willy/Philly.

O, WERE MY LOVE

I

O, were my love yon lilac fair
Wi' purple blossoms to the spring,
And I a bird to shelter there,
When wearied on my little wing,
How I wad mourn when it was torn
By Autumn wild and Winter rude!
But I wad sing on wanton wing,
When youthfu' May its bloom renew'd.

II

O, gin my love were yon red rose,
That grows upon the castle wa',
And I mysel a drap o' dew
Into her bonie breast to fa',
O, there, beyond expression blest,
I'd feast on beauty a' the night,
Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
Till fley'd awa by Phœbus' light!

280

SLEEP'ST THOU

I

Sleep'st thou, or wauk'st thou, fairest creature?
Rosy Morn now lifts his eye,
Numbering ilka bud, which Nature
Waters wi' the tears o' joy.
Now to the streaming fountain
Or up the heathy mountain
The hart, hind, and roe, freely, wildly-wanton stray;
In twining hazel bowers
His lay the linnet pours;
The laverock to the sky
Ascends wi' sangs o' joy,
While the sun and thou arise to bless the day!

II

Phœbus, gilding the brow of morning,
Banishes ilk darksome shade,
Nature gladdening and adorning:
Such to me my lovely maid!
When frae my Chloris parted,
Sad, cheerless, broken-hearted,
The night's gloomy shades, cloudy, dark, o'ercast my sky;

281

But when she charms my sight
In pride of Beauty's light,
When thro' my very heart
Her beaming glories dart,
'Tis then—'tis then I wake to life and joy!

THERE WAS A LASS

I

There was a lass, and she was fair!
At kirk and market to be seen
When a' our fairest maids were met,
The fairest maid was bonie Jean.

II

And ay she wrought her country wark,
And ay she sang sae merrilie:
The blythest bird upon the bush
Had ne'er a lighter heart than she!

III

But hawks will rob the tender joys,
That bless the little lintwhite's nest,
And frost will blight the fairest flowers,
And love will break the soundest rest.

282

IV

Young Robie was the brawest lad,
The flower and pride of a' the glen,
And he had owsen, sheep, and kye,
And wanton naigies nine or ten.

V

He gaed wi' Jeanie to the tryste,
He danc'd wi' Jeanie on the down,
And, lang ere witless Jeanie wist,
Her heart was tint, her peace was stown!

VI

As in the bosom of the stream
The moon-beam dwells at dewy e'en,
So, trembling pure, was tender love
Within the breast of bonie Jean.

VII

And now she works her country's wark,
And ay she sighs wi' care and pain,
Yet wist na what her ail might be,
Or what wad make her weel again.

VIII

But did na Jeanie's heart loup light,
And did na joy blink in her e'e,
As Robie tauld a tale o' love
Ae e'enin on the lily lea?

283

IX

While monie a bird sang sweet o' love,
And monie a flower blooms o'er the dale,
His cheek to hers he aft did lay,
And whisper'd thus his tender tale:—

X

‘O Jeanie fair, I lo'e thee dear.
O, canst thou think to fancy me?
Or wilt thou leave thy mammie's cot,
And learn to tent the farms wi' me?

XI

At barn or byre thou shalt na drudge,
Or naething else to trouble thee,
But stray amang the heather-bells,
And tent the waving corn wi' me.’

XII

Now what could artless Jeanie do?
She had nae will to say him na!
At length she blush'd a sweet consent,
And love was ay between them twa.

284

THE LEA-RIG

I

When o'er the hill the eastern star
Tells bughtin time is near, my jo,
And owsen frae the furrow'd field
Return sae dowf and weary, O,
Down by the burn, where scented birks
Wi' dew are hangin clear, my jo,
I'll meet thee on the lea-rig,
My ain kind dearie, O.

II

At midnight hour in mirkest glen
I'd rove, and ne'er be eerie, O,
If thro' that glen I gaed to thee,
My ain kind dearie, O!
Altho' the night were ne'er sae wild,
And I were ne'er sae weary, O,
I'll meet thee on the lea-rig,
My ain kind dearie, O.

III

The hunter lo'es the morning sun
To rouse the mountain deer, my jo;
At noon the fisher takes the glen
Adown the burn to steer, my jo:

285

Gie me the hour o' gloamin grey—
It maks my heart sae cheery, O,
To meet thee on the lea-rig,
My ain kind dearie, O!

MY WIFE'S A WINSOME WEE THING

Chorus

She is a winsome wee thing,
She is a handsome wee thing,
She is a lo'esome wee thing,
This sweet wee wife o' mine!

I

I never saw a fairer,
I never lo'ed a dearer,
And neist my heart I'll wear her,
For fear my jewel tine.

II

The warld's wrack, we share o't;
The warstle and the care o't,
Wi' her I'll blythely bear it,
And think my lot divine.

286

Chorus

She is a winsome wee thing,
She is a handsome wee thing,
She is a lo'esome wee thing,
This sweet wee wife o' mine

MARY MORISON

I

O Mary, at thy window be!
It is the wish'd, the trysted hour.
Those smiles and glances let me see,
That make the miser's treasure poor.
How blythely wad I bide the stoure,
A weary slave frae sun to sun,
Could I the rich reward secure—
The lovely Mary Morison!

II

Yestreen, when to the trembling string
The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha',
To thee my fancy took its wing,
I sat, but neither heard or saw:
Tho' this was fair, and that was braw,
And yon the toast of a' the town,
I sigh'd and said amang them a':—
Ye are na Mary Morison!’

287

III

O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace
Wha for thy sake wad gladly die?
Or canst thou break that heart of his
Whase only faut is loving thee?
If love for love thou wilt na gie,
At least be pity to me shown:
A thought ungentle canna be
The thought o' Mary Morison.