SONGS:
EKOM JOHNSON'S SCOTS MUSICAL MUSEUM
[ORIGINALLY ACKNOWLEDGED BY AUTHOE.]
III.
" Were Fortune foe, Tune. Loch Eroch Sido.' lovely Peggy's Such sweetness would relent her; As blooming Spring unbends the brow Of surly, savage Winter. I. Detraction's eye no aim can gain, YOUNG blooms our boniest Peggy lass, Her winning pow'rs to lessen; Her blush is like the morning, And fretful envy grins in vain The the rosy dawn, springing grass, The poison'd tooth to fasten. With early gems adorning. IV. Her eyes outshine the radiant beams That gild the passing shower, Ye Pow'rs of Honor, Love, and Truth,
And o'er the streams, ill glitter chrystal From ev'ry defend her ; each flower. And chear fresh'niug Inspire the highly-favour'd youth
The destinies intend her : II. Still fan the sweet connubial flame Her more than the cherries in each bosom lips, bright, Responsive ; richer has them A dye graced ; And bless the dear parental name They charm th' admiring gazer's sight, With many a filial blossom. 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. 2 B [POETICAL WORKS.
III. , an' I'll tome to
The braes ascend like lofty wa's, The foamy stream deep-roaring fa's, [FIRST SET: SECOND SET IN THOMSON'S COLLECTION.] O'erhung wi' fragrant spreading shaws, The birks of Aberfeldy.
I. IV.
I'll WHISTLE, an' come to lad ; you, my The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi' flowers, whistle, an' I'll come to you, lad : my White o'er the linns the burnie poui;s, father and mither should baith gae mad, Though And rising, weets wi' misty showers whistle, an' I'll come to lad. you, my The birks of Aberfeldy.
II. V. Come down the back stairs when come to ye Let Fortune's gifts at random flee, court me; They ne'er shall draw a wish frae me, Come down the back stairs when come to ye Supremely blest wi' love and thee, court me; In the birks of Aberfeldy. see Come down the back stairs, and let iiaebody ; come as were na to And ye coming me, Bonny lassie, will ye go, Will will And come as ye were na coming to me. ye go, ye go ; Bonny lassie, will ye go To the birks of Aberfeldy ?
H, to ill ge go?
Tune." The Birks of Aborfeldy."
CHOEUS. Tune.-" The Northern Lass."
Bonny lassie, will ye go, will Will ye go, ye go ; Bonny lassie, will ye go THOUGH cruel fate should bid us part, To the birks of Aberfeldy ? Far as the pole and line, Her dear idea round my heart, I. Should tenderly entwine. Now Simmer blinks on braes, flowery Though mountains rise, and deserts howl,
And o'er the streamlets ; chrystal plays And oceans roar between ; Come let us the spend lightsome days Yet, dearer than my deathless soul, In birks of the Aberfeldy. I still would love my Jean.
II.
The little birdies blythely sing, While o'er their heads the hazels hing, Or lightly flit on wanton wing In the birks of Aberfeldy. JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS.
SET Stag, tmj Charmer. [SECOND BEGINS THUS:]
Tune. "An Gille dubh ciar dhubh." L*
THICKEST night, o'erhang my dwelling !
Howling tempests, o'er me rave ! I. Turbid torrents, wintry swelling, can leave me ? STAY, my charmer, you Still surround my lonely cave ! Cruel, cruel, to deceive me ! Chrystal streamlets, &c. Well you know how much you grieve me Cruel charmer, can you go ?
Cruel charmer, can you go !
II.
love so ill By my requited ; the faith Tune. " By you fondly plighted ; Morag." the of lovers By pangs slighted ; Do not, do not leave me so!
Do not, do not leave me so ! I.
LOUD blaw the frosty breezes,
The snaws the mountains cover ; Like winter on me thickest flight, Summnb mg Btodlhtg! seizes, " Since rover Tune. Strathallan's Lament." my young Highland Far wanders nations over.
Where'er he go, where'er he stray, [ORIGINAL SET.] May Heaven be his warden : Return him safe to fair Strathspey, I. And bonie Castle-Gordon !
THICKEST night, surround my dwelling ! II. Howling tempests, o'er me rave ! Turtid torrents, wintry swelling, The trees now naked groaning, Roaring by my lonely cave ! Shall soon wi' leaves be hinging, Chrystal streamlets gently flowing, The birdies dowie moaning, Busy haunts of base mankind, Shall a' be blythely singing, Western breezes softly blowing, And every flower be springing. Suit not my distracted mind. Sae I'll rejoice the lee-lang day, When by his mighty Warden II. My youth's return'd to fair Strathspey, In the cause of Right engaged, And bonie Castle-Gordon. Wrongs injurious to redress, Honor's war we strongly waged, But the heavens deny'd success. Ruin's wheel has driven o'er us, a that dare Not hope attend, * A strange confusion about these lines seems to exist in The wide world is all before us some highly respectable Editions, which will bo fully examined But a world without a friend. hereafter in Notes. 132 LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.
ot the II. " O'er the past too fondly wandering, na chri." Tune." Bltanneracli dlion future On the hopeless pondering ; Chilly grief my life-blood freezes, Fell despair my fancy seizes. thou soul of I. Life, every blessing, Load to misery most distressing, How pleasant the banks of the clear winding Devon, Gladly how would I resign thee, With green spreading bushes and flow'rs bloom- And to dark Oblivion join thee!" ing fair! But the bonniest 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 as it bathes in the dew ; gay rosy morn, 0tt the ^taring (Skean. And gentle the fall of the soft vernal shower, Tune. " Druimion dubh." That steals on the evening each leaf to renew !
II.
I. spare the dear blossom, ye orient breezes, MUSING on the With chill hoary wing as ye usher the dawn; roaring ocean, Which divides love and me And far be thou distant, thou reptile that seizest my ;
! heav'n in warm The verdure and pride of the garden or lawn Wearying devotion, For his weal where'er he be. Let Bourbon exult in his gay gilded Lilies, And England triumphant display her proud Rose : II. A fairer than either adorns the green vallies, Where Devon, sweet Devon, meandering flows. Hope and fear's alternate billow Yielding late to nature's law, Whisp'ring spirits round my pillow Talk of him that's far awa.
III.
armmb her $J0tomg. Ye whom sorrow never wounded,
Ye who never shed a tear, Tune. "Macgregor of Rura's Lament." Care-untroubled, joy-surrounded, Gaudy day to you is dear.
IV. I.
Gentle do thou befriend me : RAVING winds around her blowing, night, sleep, the curtain draw; Yellow leaves the woodlands strowing, Downy Spirits kind, again attend me, By a river hoarsely roaring, Talk of him that's far awa ! 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 ! JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS.
teas Sht.
" Tune." The Eose-bud." Tune. Andro and his Cutty Gun."
I. CHOKUS. A ROSE-BUD by my early walk, and was Elythe, blythe merry she, Adown a corn-inclosed bawk, Blythe was she but and ben : Sae gently bent its stalk, Blythe by the banks of Em, thorny And blythe in Glenturit glen. All on a dewy morning.
Ere twice the shades o' dawn are fled, I. In a' its crimson glory spread, BY Oughtertyre grows the aik, And drooping rich the dewy head, It scents the On Yarrow banks the birkeii shaw ; early morning. But Phemie was a bonier lass II. Than braes o' Yarrow ever saw. Within the bush, her covert nest little linnet II. A fondly prest ; The dew sat on her Her looks were like a flow'r in May, chilly breast, Sae early in the morning. Her smile was like a simmer mom ; She soon shall see her tender brood, She tripped by the banks of Ern, The pride, the pleasure o' the wood, As light's a bird upon a thorn. Amang the fresh green leaves bedew' d, III. Awauk the early morning.
Her bony face it was as meek III. As ony Iamb upon a lee; So thou, dear bird, young Jeany fair, The evening sun was ne'er sae sweet, On trembling string or vocal air, As was the blink o' Phemie's e'e. Shall sweetly pay the tender care That tents IV. thy early morning. So thou, sweet Rose-bud, young and gay, The Highland hills I've wander'd wide, Shalt beauteous blaze upon the day, And o'er the Lawlands I hae been ; And bless the parent's evening ray But Phemie was the blythest lass That watch'd thy early morning. That ever trode the dewy green.
Blythe, blythe and merry was she,
Blythe was she but and ben : the banks of Blythe by Ern, SStmter'* And blythe in Glenturit glen. " Tune. Neil Gow's Lamentation for Abercairny."
I.
WHERE, braving angry winter's storms, The lofty Ochels rise, Far in their shade my Peggy's charms First blest my wondering eyes ; 134 LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.
As one who by some savage stream IV. A lonely gem surveys, Altho' a lad were e'er sae smart, Astonish' marks it beam d, doubly If that he want the yellow dirt, With art's most polish'd blaze. Ye'll cast your head anither airt, And answer him fu' dry. II.
Blest be the wild, sequester'd shade, V. And blest the day and hour, But if he hae the name o' gear, Where Peggy's charms I first survey'd, Ye'll fasten to him like a brier, When first I felt their pow'r ! Tho' hardly he, for sense or lear, The tyrant Death, with grim controul, Be better than the kye. seize breath May my fleeting ; But tearing from soul Peggy my VI. Must be a stronger death. But, Tibbie, lass, tak my advice : Your daddie's maks sae nice gear you ; The deil a ane wad spier your price, Were ye as poor as I.
<3Iibbk I hae jsan the t Dag. VII. " Time. Invercald's Keel." [There lives a lass in yonder park, I would na gie her in her sark, For wi' a' thousan' thee, thy mark ; CHOEUS. Ye need na look sae high.]
O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, Ye would na been sae I shy ; O Tibbie, hae seen the day, For laik o' would na been sae gear ye lightly me, Ye shy ; I care But, trowth, na by. For laik o' gear ye lightly me, But, trowth, I care na by. I.
YESTREEN I met you on the moor, Ye but like stoure spak na, gae'd by ; Ye geek at me because I'm poor, But fient a hair care I. Clarittba.
II.
I doubt na, lass, but ye may think, Because ye hae the name o' clink, CLARINDA, mistress of my soul, That ye can please me at a wink, The measur'd time is run ! Whene'er ye like to try. The wretch beneath the dreary pole So marks his latest sun. III.
But sorrow tak him that's sae mean, To what dark cave of frozen night hie Altho' his pouch o' coin were clean, Shall poor Sylvander ; Wha follows ony saucy quean, Depriv'd of thee, his life and light, That looks sae proud and high. The sun of all his joy. JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. 135
We part but by these precious drops,
That fill ! thy lovely eyes Tune." On a Bank of Flowers." No other light shall guide my steps, Till thy bright beams arise.
I. She, the fair sun of all her sex, ON a bank of flowers in a summer day, Has blest my glorious day ; For summer lightly drest, And shall a glimmering planet fix The youthful blooming Nelly lay, My worship to its ray ? 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. ie Dtmbar. II. Tune." Johnny M'Gill." Her closed eyes like weapons sheath'd,
Were seal'd in soft repose :
Her lips, still as she fragrant breath'd, It richer the rose I. dy'd ; The springing lilies sweetly prest, WILT thou go wi' me, rival breast Wild, wanton, kiss'd her ; Sweet Tibbie Dunbar? He gaz'd, he wish'd, he fear'd, he blush'd wilt thou go wi' me, His bosom ill at rest. Sweet Tibbie Dunbar? Wilt thou ride on a horse, III. Or be drawn in a car, Her robes light waving in the breeze, Or walk by my side, Her tender limbs embrace ; sweet Tibbie Dunbar ? Her lovely form, her native ease,
All harmony and grace : II. Tumultuous tides his pulses roll, 1 care na thy daddie, ardent kiss he stole A faltering ; His lands and his money ; He gaz'd, he wish'd, he fear'd, he blush'd, I care na thy kin, And sigh'd his very soul. Sae high and sae lordly : But say thou wilt hae me IV. For better for waur As flies the partridge from the brake, And come in thy coatie, On fear-inspired wings,
Sweet Tibbie Dunbar ! 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.
-&> 136 LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS.
JUturtts. II. How I have liv'd but in long how much liv'd vain ; Tune. " Seventh of November." How little of life's remain scanty span may ; What aspects old Time, in his progress, has worn What ties cruel Fate, in my bosom, has torn.
How foolish, or worse, till our summit is gain'd !
And downward, how weaken' d, how darken' d, how THE day returns, my bosom burns, pain'd ! The blissful day we twa did meet : Life is not worth having with all it can give Tho' winter wild in tempest toil'd, For something beyond it poor man sure must live. Ne'er summer-sun was half sae sweet.
Than a' the pride that loads the tide, crosses o'er the line And sultry ; Than kingly robes, than crowns and globes,
Heav'n gave me more it made thee mine ! " Tune. Miss Admiral Gordon's II. Strathspey. While day and night can bring delight, Or nature of aught pleasure give ; SET.] While joys above, my mind can move, For thee, and thee alone I live. I. When that grim foe of life below Comes in between to make us part, OF a' the airts the wind can blaw, The iron hand that breaks our band, I dearly like the west, It breaks my bliss it breaks my heart ! For there the bony lassie lives, The lassie I lo'e best : There's wild-woods grow, and rivers row, And a hill between mony ; But day and night my fancy's flight Is ever wi' my Jean. JK, a*g Mist. II. " Tune. The Lazy Mist." 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 : I. There's not a bony flower that springs THE lazy mist hangs from the brow of the hill, or By fountain, shaw, green ; the course of the dark rill Concealing ; winding There's not a bony bird that sings, How the late so ! languid scenes, sprightly, appear But minds me o' my Jean. As Autumn to Winter resigns the pale year. 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 ! JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. 137 3ill. Jcr. , mp " " Tune. My Love is lost to me." Tune. John Anderson, my Jo.' I. I. I on Parnassus hill JOHN WERE ; ANDERSON, my jo, John, o' Helicon fill When we were first Or had my ; acquent ; That I might catch poetic skill, Your locks were like the raven, To sing how dear I love thee ! Your bony brow was brent : be Muses' well But brow is But Nith maun my ; now your beld, John, Muse maun be bonie sell ; Your locks are like the snaw My thy ; On Corsincon I'll glowr and spell, But blessings on your frosty pow, And write how dear I love thee. John Anderson, my Jo. II. II. Then come, sweet Muse, inspire my lay ! John Anderson, my jo, John, For a' the lee-lang simmer's day We clamb the hill thegither; 1 cou'dna sing, I cou'dna say, And mony a canty day, John, Haw much, how dear, I love thee. We've had wi' ane anither : I see thee dancing o'er the green, Now we maun totter down, John, waist sae limbs sae in we'll Thy jimp, thy clean, And hand hand go ; Thy tempting lips, thy roguish een And sleep thegither at the foot, By Heaven and Earth I love thee ! John Anderson, my Jo. III. By night, by day, a-field, at hame, The o' thee breast inflame thoughts my ; And ay I muse and sing thy name Jttother'* I only live to love thee. JCmnent Tho' I were doom'd to wander on, FOR THE DEATH OF HER SON. Beyond the sea, beyond the sun, Till last sand was run " my weary ; Tune. Finlayston House." Till then and then I love thee ! 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. 2c zl LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS. The mother-linnet in the brake n Bewails her ravish'd young : Tune. "Death, of Captain Cook." So I, for my lost darling's sake, Lament the live-day long. oft Death, I've fear'd thy fatal blow, I. I bare breast Now, fond, my ; THOU ling'ring star, with less'iiing ray, 0, do thou kindly lay me low That lov'st to greet the early morn, With him I love, at rest ! Again thou usher'st in the day My Mary from my soul was torn. 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 ? Tune. "The Braes o' Ballochmyle." Can I forget the hallow'd grove ? Where, by the winding Ayr, we met, To live one day of parting love ! can not efface I. Eternity of Those records dear transports past ; THE Catrine woods were seen, yellow at our last embrace Thy image ; The flowers decay'd on Catrine lee, Ah ! little thought we 'twas our last ! Nae lav'rock sang on hillock green, But nature sicken'd on the e'e. III. Thro' faded groves Maria sang, Ayr, gurgling, kiss'd his pebbled shore, in the while Hersel beauty's bloom ; O'erhuiig with wild-woods thickening green: And ay the wild-wood echoes rang, The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Fareweel the Braes o' Ballochmyle ! Twin'd amorous round the raptur'd scene : k The flow'rs sprang wanton to be prest, II. The birds sang love on every spray in Low your wintry beds, ye flowers, Till too, too soon, the glowing west flourish fresh and fair ; Again ye'll Proclaim'd the speed of winged day. Ye birdies dumb, in with'ring bowers, the vocal air. IV. Again ye'll charm alas ! for me nae mair But here, Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes, Shall birdie charm, or floweret smile ; with miser care And fondly broods ; Fareweel the bonie banks of Ayr, Time but tli' impression stronger makes, ! sweet ! Fareweel, fareweel Ballochmyle As streams their channels deeper wear. My 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 ? W JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. 139 0f Shmff-muir. IV. " how deil, Tarn, can that be true ? Tune. " Cameronian Rant." The chase frae the gaed north, man ; I saw mysel, they did pursue The horsemen back to Forth, man ; [ORIGINAL SET.] And at Dunblane, in my aiii sight, They took the brig wi' a' their might, And straught to Stirling winged their flight : lot ! I. But, cursed the gates were shut ; " And mony a huntit, poor Red-coat, CAM ye here the fight to shun, " For fear amaist did swarf, man ! Or herd the sheep wi' me, man ? Or were at the ye Sherra-moor, V. " Or did the battle see, man ? My sister Kate cam up the gate I saw the battle, sair and teugh, Wi' crowdie unto me, man; And reekin-red ran mony a sheugh; She swoor she saw some rebels run My heart, for fear, gae sough for sough, To Perth and to Dundee, man : To hear the thuds, and see the cluds Their skill left-hand general had nae ; 0' clans frae woods, in tartan duds, The Angus lads had nae good will Wha glaum'd at kingdoms three, man. That day their neebors' blude to spill; For fear, by foes, that they should lose II. Their cogs o' brose, they scar'd at blows, The red-coat lads, wi' black cockauds, And hameward fast did flee, man. To meet them were na slaw, man ; They rush'd and push'd, and blude outgush'd, VI. And mony a bouk did fa', man : They've lost some gallant gentlemen, The great Argyle led on his files, Amang the Highland clans, man ! I wat they glanc'd for twenty miles; I fear my Lord Panmuir is slain, the clans like nine-pin kyles, They hough'd Or in his en'mies' hands, man. They hack'd and hash'd, while braid-swords Now wad ye sing this double flight, clash'd, fell for Some wrang, and some for right ; And thro' and hew'd and they dash'd, smash'd, bade the warld And mony gude-night ; Till fey men di'd awa, man. Say pell and mell, wi' muskets' knell How Tories fell, and Whigs to hell III. Flew off in frighted bands, man ! But had seen the ye philibegs, : CHOEUS. tartan man And skyrin trews, ; La, la, la, la, la, la ; When in the teeth they dar'd our Whigs, La, la, la, la, la, da! And covenant Trueblues, man: In lines extended lang and large, When baiginets o'erpower'd the targe, to And thousands hasten'd the charge ; Wi' Highland wrath they frae the sheath Drew blades o' death, till, out o' breath, They fled like frighted dows, man ! JR 140 LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS. J0r a' lhat an' a' illie $reto'b a f edt 0' " Tzwie. For a' that an' a' that. Tune. "Willie brew'd a Peck o' Maut I. I. THO' women's minds, like winter winds, WILLIE brew'd a peck o' maut, shift turn a' And Rob and Allan cam to see : May and and that ; The noblest breast adores them maist Three blyther hearts, that lee-lang night, A consequence I draw that : Ye wad na found in Christendie. For a' that an' a' that, We are na fou, we're nae that fou, in e'e And twice as meikle's a' that : But just a drappie our ; The bony lass that I lo'e best, The cock may craw, the day may daw, She'll be my ain for a' that ! And ay we'll taste the barley bree. II. II. are three Great love I bear to all the Fair, Here we met, merry boys ; a' Three I are we Their humble slave an' that ; merry boys, trow, ; a we've But lordly Will, I hold it still And mony night merry been, A mortal sin to thraw that. And mony mae we hope to be ! III. III. It is the I ken her In rapture sweet this hour we meet, moon horn, That's blinkin in the lift sae hie Wi' mutual love an' a' that ; ; us But for how lang the flie may stang, She shines sae bright to wyle hame, Let inclination law that. But, by my sooth, she'll wait a wee ! IV. IV. Their tricks and craft hae put me daft, Wha first shall rise to gang awa, coward loun is he ! They've taen me in an' a' that; A cuckold, first beside his chair shall But clear your decks, and here's The Sex ! Wha fa', ! ! He is the us three I like the jads for a' that king amang For a' that an' a' that, We are na fou, we're nae that fou, But a in our e'e And twice as meikle's a' that : just drappie ; The cock the The bony lass that I lo'e best, may craw, day may daw, we'll taste the bree. She'll be my ain for a' that ! And ay barley JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. $hte-epcb II. How lovely, Nith, thy fruitful vales, Air. "The Blue-eyed Lassie." Where bounding hawthorns gaily bloom ! How sweetly spread thy sloping dales, Where lambkins wanton thro' the broom ! Tho' wandering, now, must be my doom, I. Far from thy bonie banks and braes, I GAED a waefu' gate yestreen, May there my latest hours consume, A I I'll rue ; gate, fear, dearly ! Amang the friends of early days I gat my deatli frae twa sweet eeri, Twa lovely een o' bonie blue. 'Twas not her golden ringlets bright ; Her like roses wi' lips, wat dew; dlen. Her heaving bosom, lily-white Tune. Tarn Glen." It was her een sae bonie blue. II. I. She she heart she talk'd, smil'd, my wyl'd ; MY heart is a-breaking, dear Tittie ! She charm'd soul I wist na how my ; Some counsel unto me come len'; And ay the stound, the deadly wound, To them a' is a Cam frae her een sae bonie blue. anger pity, But what will I do wi' Tarn Glen? to to But spare speak, and spare speed ; She'll aiblins listen to : my vow II. Should she refuse, I'll lay my dead I'm thinking, wi' sic a braw fellow, To her twa een sae bonie blue. I a fen' In poortith might mak ; What care I in riches to wallow, If I mauna marry Tarn Glen ? III. There's Lowrie the laird o' Dumeller, " " Gude to brute I he comes beri ; at fiitk. day you, He brags and he blaws o' his siller, " Tune. Robie donna Gorach." But when will he dance like Tarn Glen ? IV. My minnie does constantly deave me, I. o' And bids me beware young men ; flows to the THE Thames proudly sea, They flatter, she says, to deceive me, cities stand o' ? Where royal stately ; But wha can think sae Tarn Glen But sweeter flows the Nith, to me, V. Where Comyns ance had high command. When shall I see that honor'd land, My daddie says, gin I'll forsake him, marks ten : That winding stream I love so dear ! He'll gie me gude hunder Must wayward Fortune's adverse hand But, if it's ordain' d I maun take him, For ever, ever keep "me here ! wha will I get but Tarn Glen? LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS VI. III. I Yestreen at the Valentines' dealing, can na tell, I maun na tell, heart to mou' a sten I dare na for : My my gied ; your anger For thrice I drew ane without failing, But secret love will break my heart, And thrice it was written Tarn Glen. If I conceal it langer. VII. IV. I see thee tall The last Halloween I was waukin gracefu', straight and ; I see : . droukit as ken thee sweet and bonie My sark-sleeve, ye ; His likeness cam up the house staukin, But oh ! what will my torments be, And the very grey breeks o' Tarn Glen ! If thou refuse thy Johnie ? VIII. V. Come counsel, dear Tittie ! don't tarry : To see thee in another's arms, I'll gie you my bonie black hen, In love to lie and languish : will advise to 'TAvad be that will be seen Gif ye me marry my dead, ; The lad I lo'e dearly, Tarn Glen. My heart wad burst wi' anguish. IV. thou wilt be But, Jeanie, say mine ; Say thou lo'es nane before me : And a' my days o' life to come, I'll gratefully adore thee. [OBIGINAL SET: SECOND SET IN THOMSON'S COLLECTION.] I. SWEET closes the evening on Craigie-burn wood, tht And blythely awaukens the morrow : But the pride of the spring in the Craigie-burn Tune. "My Tocher's the Jewel." wood Can yield me nothing but sorrow. dearie dearie Beyond th.ee, ; beyond thee, ; I. And 0, to be lying beyond thee ! o' O sweetly, soundly, weel may he sleep, MEIKLE thinks my luve my beauty, That's laid ! in the bed beyond thee And meikle thinks luve o' kin my my ; But little thinks my luve I ken brawlie, II. My tocher's the jewel has charms for him. I leaves It's a' for the he'll nourish the tree see the spreading and flowers, apple ; It's a' for he'll cherish the bee I hear the wild birds singing; the hiney ; But pleasure they hae nane for me, My laddie's sae meikle in luve wi' the siller, While care my heart is wringing. He canna hae luve to spare for me. JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. II. a can a 0ung o' hive's an Your proffer airle-penny, " Tune. "What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man ? tocher's the wad My bargain ye buy ; But an ye be crafty, I am cunnin, Sae ye wi' anither your fortune maun try. Ye're like to the timmer o' yon rotten wood, I. o' rotten tree Ye're like to the bark yon ; WHAT can a young lassie, what shall a young lassie, Ye'll frae me like a knotless slip thread, What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man? And crack credit wi' mae nor me. ye'll your Bad luck on the pennie that tempted my minnie To sell her poor Jenny for siller an' Ian' ! Bad luck on the pennie that tempted my minnie To sell her poor Jenny for siller an' Ian' ! dutbtoife (tottt ilu J a to in. " Tune. : Guidwife count the Lawin." II. He's always compleenin frae mornin to e'enin, he He hosts and hirples the weary day lang ; I. He's doyl't and he's dozin, his bluid it is frozen the wi' a ! GANE is the day, and mirk's the night, 0, dreary's night crazy auld man ne'er for faute o' He's and he's his bluid it is frozen But we'll stray light ; doyl't dozin, For ale and brandy's stars and moon, 0, dreary's the night wi' a crazy auld man ! And blude-red wine's the rysin sun. III. Then guidwife count the lawin, He hums and he hankers, he frets and he cankers, The lawin, the lawin ; I Then guidwife count the lawin, I never can please him, do a' that can; And a mair ! bring coggie He's peevish and jealous of a' the young fellows: 0, dool on the day I met wi' an auld man ! II. He's peevish and jealous of a' the young fellows : There's wealth and ease for gentlemen, 0, dool on the day I met wi' an auld man ! folk fecht and fen And semple maun ; But here we're a' in ae accord, IV. For ilka man that's drunk's a lord. My auld auntie Katie upon me taks pity, I'll do endeavour to follow her ; III. my plan I'll cross him, and wrack him, until I heart-break him, My coggie is a haly pool, And then his auld brass will buy me a new pan. That heals the wounds o' care and dool ; I'll cross him, and wrack him, until I heart-break him, And pleasure is a wanton trout, And then his auld brass will buy me a new pan. An' ye drink it a', ye'll find him out. Then guidwife count the lawin, The lawin, the lawin ; Then guidwife count the lawin, And bring a coggie mair I 144 LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS. ilitB h0to Charming! Content am I, if Heaven shall give But happiness to thee : AS A [SET SONG.] And as wi' thee I'd wish to live, For thee I'd bear to die. I. SENSIBILITY how charming, Dearest Nancy, thou canst tell : But distress with horrors arming, that at mg $otor-000r? Thou hast also known too well. Tune. "Lass an I come near thee." Fairest flower, behold the lily Blooming in the sunny ray : Let the blast sweep o'er the valley, I. See it prostrate on the clay ! Fairest flower, &c. WHA is that at my bower-door ? wha is it but Findlay : II. Then gae your gate, ye'se nae be here !- Hear the wood-lark charm the forest, Indeed maun I, quo' Findlay. Telling o'er his little joys : What mak ye, sae like a thief? Hapless bird ! a prey the surest, come and see, quo' Findlay : To each pirate of the skies. Before the morn ye'll work mischief; Dearly bought the hidden treasure, Indeed will I, quo' Findlay. Finer feelings can bestow ; Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure, II. Thrill the deepest notes of woe ! Gif I rise and let you in? Dearly bought, &c. Let me in, quo' Findlay : Ye'll me waukin wi' din keep your ; Indeed will I, quo' Findlay. In bower if should ? It w na, $tm, thg $0ttie Jaa. my ye stay Let me : " stay, quo' Findlay Tune. The Maid's complaint." I fear bide till break o' ye'll day ; Indeed will I, quo' Findlay. IT is na, Jean, thy bonie face, III. Nor shape that I admire, Here this if remain Altho' thy beauty and thy grace night ye ; Might weel awauk desire. I'll remain, quo' Findlay : o' I dread learn the Something in ilka part thee ye'll gate again ; to I find Indeed will I, To praise, love, ; quo' Findlay. But dear as is thy form to me, What may pass within this bower, Let it : Still dearer is thy mind. pass, quo' Findlay conceal till last Ye maun your hour ; II. Indeed will I, quo' Findlay ! 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. JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. $0nu Had we never lov'd sae kindly, " Had we never lov'd sae TWTW. Bonie Woe Thing." blindly, Never met or never parted, We had ne'er been broken-hearted. I. III. BOXIE wee tiling, cannie wee thing, Fare thee thou mine weel, thou first and fairest ! Lovely wee thing, was ; Fare thee weel, thou best and clearest ! I wad wear thee in my bosom, Thine be ilka and treasure, Least my jewel I should tine. joy Peace, enjoyment, love, and ! Wishfully I look and languish pleasure Ae fond kiss, and then we sever ; In that bonie face o' thine ; Ae fareweel, alas ! for ever ! And my heart it stounds wi' anguish, Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll thee, Least my wee thing be na mine. pledge Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee I II. Wit, and grace, and love, and beauty In ae constellation shine ; To adore thee is my duty, I lute it Miit o' ain. Goddess o' this soul o' mine ! mn Bonie wee cannie wee " thing, thing, Tune. Xaebody." was thou mine Lovely wee thing, ; I wad wear thee in my bosom, Least I should tine ! my jewel I. I HAE a wife o' my ain I'll wi' partake naebody ; I'll tak cuckold frae nane, I'll gie cuckold to naebody. Tune. Ball's Port." "Rory I hae a penny to spend, There thanks to naebody ; I hae naething to lend, I. I'll borrow frae naebody. AE fond kiss, and then we sever ; Ae fareweel, and then for ever ! II. in tears I'll thee, Deep heart-wrung pledge I am naebody 's lord and I'll thee. Warring sighs groans wage I'll to be slave naebody ; Who shall that fortune him, say grieves I hae a gude braid sword, While the star of she leaves him ? hope I'll tak dunts frae naebody. nae chearfu' twinkle me ; Me, lights I'll be merry and free, Dark around benights me. despair I'll be sad for naebody ; cares for II. Naebody me, I care for naebodv. 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. 2 D Vrr LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS. II. , for 3Ute-aitb- An' for Tarn ! 0, ane-and-twenty, Alike to screen the birdie's nest, An' hey, sweet ane-and-twenty, Tarn I And little fishes' caller rest ; I'll learn my kin a rattlin sang, An I saw ane-and-twenty, Tarn. The sun blinks kindly in the biel', Where blythe I turn my spinnin-whecl. I. THEY snool me sair, and baud me down, III. And me look like bluntie, Tarn ; gar On lofty aiks the cushats wail, will Avheel roun'- But three short years soon And cons the doolfu' tale Echo ; And then comes Tarn. ane-and-twenty, The lintwhites in the hazel braes, rival ither's : II. Delighted, lays The craik amang the claver hay, A gleib o' Ian', a claut o' gear, The pairtrick whirrin o'er the ley, left Tarn Was me by my auntie, ; The swallow jinkin round my shiel, At kith or kin I need na spier, Amuse me at my spinnin-wheel. An I saw ane-and-twenty, Tarn. IV. II. Wi' sma' to sell, and less to buy, They'll hae me wed a wealthy coof, Aboon below I hae Tarn distress, envy, Tho' mysel plenty, ; wha wad leave this humble state, But hear'st thou, laddie there's my loof : For a' the pride of a' the great ? I'm thine at ane-and-twenty, Tarn ! Amid their flairing, idle toys, An' 0, for ane-and-twenty, Tarn ! Amid their cumbrous, dinsome joys, An' hey, sweet ane-and-twenty, Tarn ! Can the and feel I'll learn my kin a rattlin sang, they peace pleasure An I saw ane-and-twenty, Tarn. Of Bessie at her spinnin-wheel ? sub her p inning- SSh eel. Welcome 3|ame. " Tune. The sweet lass that lo'es mo." I. I. THE noble Maxwells and their powers LEEZE me on my spinnm-wheel, Are coming o'er the border, leeze on rock and reel And And me my ; they'll gae bigg Terreagles towers, Frae tap to tae that deeds me bien, An' set them a' in order : And haps me fiel and warm at e'en ! And they declare, Terreagles fair, I'll set me down and sing and spin, For their abode they chuse it; While laigh descends the simmer sun, There's no a heart in a' the land, Blest wi' content, and milk and meal But's lighter at the news o't. leeze me on my spinnm-wheel ! And they declare, &c JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. II. But blythe's the blink o' Robie's e'e, And weel I wat he lo'es me dear : Tho' stars in skies may disappear, Ae blink o' him I wad na gie And angry tempests gather ; For and a' his The happy hour may soon be near, Buskie-glen gear. That brings us pleasant weather : IV. The weary night o' care and grief life's a May hae a joyfu' morrow; O thoughtless lassie, faught ; canniest the strife is sair So dawning day has brought relief, The gate, ; But fu'-han't is fechtin Fareweel our night o' sorrow ! ay best, care : The Aveary night, &c. A hungry care's an unco But some will spend, and some Avill spare, An' wilfu' folk maun hae their will ; Syne as ye brew, my maiden fair, the Keep mind that ye maun drink yill. V. " Tune. The Lass. Country gear will buy me rigs o' land, And gear will buy me sheep and kye; But the tender heart o' leesome luve, The gowd and siller canna buy : I. We may be poor Robie and I IN when the was simmer, hay mawn, is the luve on Light burden lays ; And corn wav'd green in ilka field, Content and luve brings peace and joy While claver blooms white o'er the lea, What mair hae Queens upon a throne '] And roses blaw in ilka bield; Blythe Bessie in the milking shiel, Says I'll be wed, come o't what will Out spak a dame in wrinkled eild 0' gude advisement comes nae ill. II. Jair t&lizx. It's ye hae wooers mony ane, And but ken A Gaelic Air. lassie, ye're young, ye ; Then wait a wee, and cannie wale A routine butt, a routine ben : There's Johnie o' the Buskie-glen, Fu' is his fu' is his I. barn, byre ; Tak this frae me, my bonie hen, TURN again, thou fair Eliza, It's plenty beets the luver's fire. Ae kind blink before Ave part : Rue on thy despairing luver ! III. Canst thou break his faithfu' heart 'I For Johnie o' the Turn thou fair Eliza Buskie-glen. again, ; I dinna care a single flie; If to luve thy heart denies, He lo'es sae weel his craps and kye, For pity hide the cruel sentence He has nae luve to spare for me : Under friendship's kind disguise ! LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS. II. Thee, dear maid, hae I offended ! I'll pu' the budding rose when Phoebus peeps in view, is : For it's like a o' her bonie The offence luving thee baumy kiss sweet mou' ; Canst thou wreck his peace for ever, The hyacinth's for constancy, \vi' it's unchanging Wha for thine wad gladly die ? blue While the life beats in my bosom, And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. Thou shalt mix in ilka throe ; Turn again, thou lovely maiden, IV. Ae sweet smile 011 me bestow. The lily it is pure, and the lily it is fair, And in her lovely bosom I'll place the lily there; III. The daisy's for simplicity, and unaffected air Not the bee upon the blossom, And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. o' In the pride sunny noon ; Not the little sporting fairy, V. All beneath the simmer moon ; The hawthorn I will pu' wi' its locks o' siller gray, in Not the poet, the moment like it stands at break o' Where, an aged man, day ; in his e'e, Fancy lightens But the songster's nest within the bush I winna Kens the feels the pleasure, rapture, tak away That to me ! thy presence gies And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. VI. The woodbine I will pu' when the e'eniiig 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. Tune. "The Posie." 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' abuve, I. That to my latest draught o' life the band shall LUVE will venture in where it dauriia weel be seen, ne'er remuve, luve will venture in where wisdom ance has been ; And this will be a posie to my ain dear May. But I will down 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. I will the the emblem o' dear And pu' pink, my ; For she is the pink o' womankind, and blooms with- out a peer And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. II. She has an e'e she has but ane, Tune. "Caledonian Hunt's Delight. The cat has twa the very colour; Five rusty teeth forbye a stump, A clapper-tongue wad deave a miller; [ORIGINAL EDITION.] A whiskin beard about her mou', Her nose and chin they threaten ither; Sic a wife as Willie I. had, I wad na gie a button for her. YE banks and braes o' bonie Doon, How can bloom sae fresh and fair ; ye III. How can ye chant, ye little birds, She's bow-hough'd, she's hem-shimi'd, And I sae weary fu' o' care ! Ae a shorter limpin leg hand-breed ; Thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird, She's twisted right, she's twisted left, That wantons thro' the flowering thorn : To balance fair in ilka quarter; Thou minds me o' departed joys, She has a hump upon her breast, Departed never to return ! The twin o' that her shouther upon ; Sic a wife as Willie II. had, I wad na gie a button for her. Oft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon, To see the rose and woodbine twine ; IV. And ilka bird sang o' its luve, Auld baudrans by the ingle sits, And fondly sae did I o' mine. An' wi' her loof her face a-washin ; Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, But Willie's wife is nae sae trig, Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree; She dights her grunzie wi' a hushion : And my fause luver staw my rose, Her walie nieves like midden-creels, But, ah ! he left the thorn wi' me ! Her face wad the Water fyle Logan- ; Sic a wife as Willie had, I wad na gie a button for her. ir a (Kfe n0 Millie hab. Tune. "The Eight Men of Moidart." (tol 0f " I. Tune. Kellyburn Braes." WILLIE WASTLE dwalt on Tweed, The ca'd it spot they Linkum-doddie ; Willie was a wabster gude, I. Cou'd stown a clue wi' ony bodie : He had a wife was dour arid din, THERE lived a carl in Kellyburn-braes, Tinkler was her mither bonie wi' Maidgie ; Hey, and the rue grows thyme Sic a wife as Willie the of his had, And he had a wife was plague days ; 1 wad na gie a button for her. And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS. II. X. A reekit wee deevil looks over the wa' Ae day as the carl gaed up the lang glen, ; Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme " " " wi' devil do fen 1 ! or she'll ruin us a' !" He met the ; says, How ye help, Master, help And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. III. XL The devil he o' "I've got a bad wife, sir; that's a' my complaint;" swore by the edge his knife, Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme "For, saving your presence, to her ye're a saint:" He pitied the man that was tied to a wife : And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. IV. XII. " It's neither your stot nor your staig I shall crave," The devil he swore by the kirk and the bell, Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme " " But gie me your wife, man, for her I must have : He was not in wedlock, thank Heaven, but in hell : And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. V. XIII. the carl has travell'd wi' his "0 welcome, most kindly!" blythe said, Then Satan again pack ; Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme Hey, and the rue grows borne wi' thyme " " But if ye can match her, ye're waur nor ye're ca'd: And to her auld husband he's carried her back : And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. VI. XIV. " " devil has the auld wife on his back I hae a devil the feck o' life The got ; been my ; Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme " " And, like a poor pedlar, he's carried his pack : But ne'er was in hell, till I met wi' a wife : And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. And the thyme it is wither'd, arid rue is in prime. VII. He's carried her hame to his ain hallan-door ; and the rue bonie wi' Hey, grows thyme Song of Beath. Syne bade her gae in, for a b h and a w e : Air. "Oran an Aoig." And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. i VIII. I. Then straight he makes fifty, the pick o' his band, FAREWELL, thou fair day; thou green earth; and Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme ye in skies, Turn out on her guard the clap of a hand : with the broad sun Now gay setting ; And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. Farewell, loves and friendships, ye dear tender ties IX. Our race of existence is run ! carliii thro' of life's The gaed them like ony wud bear, Thou grim king terrors, thou gloomy foe ! Hey, and the rue grows bonie wi' thyme Go frighten the coward and slave; fell I Whae'er she gat hands on cam near her nae mair : Go teach them to tremble, tyrant but know, And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime. No terrors hast thou to the brave ! K JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. II. V. Thou strik'st the dull peasant he sinks in the dark, Thy chrystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, a And winds the cot where resides ; Nor saves e'en the wreck of name ; by my Mary Thou strik'st the young hero a glorious mark ! How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave, flowerets stems clear He falls in the blaze of his fame ! As gathering sweet she thy In the field of proud honor our swords in our hands, wave. Our king and our country to save VI. While victory shines on life's last ebbing sands, Oh ! who would not die with the brave ! 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. Mton SEatcr. Tune. " Afton "Water. " Tune. Bonic Bell. I. I. FLOW gently, sweet Afton ! among thy green braes, THE smiling Spring comes in rejoicing, I'll thee a in flies Flow gently, sing song thy praise ; And surly Winter grimly ; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream Now crystal-clear are the falling waters, are skies Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. And bonie blue the sunny ; Fresh o'er the mountains breaks forth the II. morning, The the ocean's sAvell ; Thou stock-dove, whose echo resounds thro' the glen; ev'ning gilds blackbirds in den All creatures joy in the sun's returning, Ye wild whistling yon thorny ; And I in bonie Bell. Thou green crested lapwing, thy screaming forbear: rejoice my I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair. II. The leads sunny Summer, III. flowery Spring near And yellow Autumn presses ; How sweet Afton ! lofty, thy neighbouring hills, Then in his turn comes gloomy Winter, Far mark'd with the courses of clear, winding rills; Till smiling Spring again appear. There daily I wander as noon rises high, Thus Seasons dancing, life advancing, flocks and sweet cot in My my Mary's my eye. Nature their tell Old Time and changes ; But never ranging, still unchanging, IV. I adore my bonie Bell. How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below, Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow ! There, oft as mild evening weeps over the lea, The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me. LIFE '1 AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS. (gallant heater. II. hand your tongue, feirrie auld wife, " my Tune. The Weaver's March. haud your tongue now, Nansie, ! I've seen the day, and sae hae ye, Ye wadna been sae donsie, ! I've seen the day ye butter'd my brose, I. And cuddled me late and early, ! But WHERE Cart rins rowin to the sea, downa do's come o'er me now, And oh ! I it By mony a fiow'r and spreading tree, find sairly, ! There lives a lad, the lad for me, He is a gallant Weaver, Oh, I had wooers aught or nine, ribbons fine They gied me rings and ; And I was fear'd my heart would tine, And I gied it to the Weaver. She's Jaiv anb Jatise. " II. Tune. She's Fair and Fause." My daddie sign'd my tocher-band, lad To gie the that has the land ; But to my heart I'll add my hand, And give it to the Weaver. I. While birds rejoice in leafy bowers; SHE'S fair and fause that causes my smart, While bees in flowers I lo'ed her meikle and delight op'ning ; lang ; She's broken While corn grows green in simmer showers, her vow, she's broken my heart, I love my gallant Weaver. 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 borne lass gang. 0'er mg Uabbie. II. " Tune. The Deuks Dang o'er my Daddie." 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. I. woman, lovely woman fair! An angel form's faun to thy share, THE bairns gat out wi' an unco shout, ? 'Twad been o'er meikle to thee mair The deuks o er gien dang my daddie, ! I mean an angel mind. The fien'-ma-care, quo' the feirrie auld wife, He was but a paidlin body, ! He paidles out, an' he paidles in, An' he paidles late an' early, ! This seven lang years I hae lien by his side, he is An' but a fusionless carlie, ! JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. 153 J&zti'* atoa tof th' (SExdaenran. Drumossie moor Drumossie day, A waefu' day it was to me ! Tune. "The Deil cam fiddlin through the town." For there I lost my father dear, My father dear, and brethren three. I. II. THE Deil cam fiddlin thro' the town, Their winding sheet the bluidy clay, danc'd wi' th' Their are to And awa Exciseman ; graves growing green see " And ilka wife cries Auld Mahoun; And by them lies the dearest lad " I wish you luck o' the prize, man ! That ever blest a woman's e'e ! Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord, The Deil's awa, the Deil's awa, I A bluidy man trow thou be ; The Deil's awa wi' th' Exciseman ; For mony a heart thou hast made sair, He's danc'd awa, he's danc'd awa, That ne'er did to thine or thee ! He's danc'd awa wi' th' Exciseman ! wrang II. We'll mak our maut and we'll brew our drink, We'll laugh, and sing, and rejoice, man; s*. And braw thanks to the meikle black mony Deil, " Tune. Graham's Strathspey." That danc'd awa wi' th' Exciseman. III. I. There's threesome reels, there's foursome reels, There's and MY luve's like a red, red rose, hornpipes strathspeys, man ; That's in June : But the ae best dance e'er cam to the land, newly sprung Was the Deil's awa wi' th' Exciseman. O my luve's like the melodie, That's sweetly play'd in tune. The Deil's awa, the Deil's awa, The Deil's wi' th' II. awa Exciseman ; He's danc'd awa, he's danc'd awa, As fair art thou, bonie lass, He's danc'd awa wi' th' Exciseman. my So deep in luve am I : And I will luve thee still, my dear, 'Till a' the seas gang dry. III. fobelg $*** 0' 'Till a' the seas gang dry, rny dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun : Tune. "Lass o' Inverness." I will luve thee still, my dear, While the sands o' life shall run. I. IV. THE lovely lass o' Inverness, And fare thee weel, my only luve ! nor can And fare thee weel a while ! Nae joy pleasure she see ; For e'en and morn she cries, Alas ! And I will come again, my luve, And ay the saut tear blin's her e'e Tho' it were ten thousand mile ! 2 E Vrr 154 LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS. Jl Jessie all 3U0tu. VI. " And frae his sic strains did flow, e. Cumnock Psalms. harp rous'd to hear Might the slumbering dead ; But oh ! it was a tale of woe, ['A VISION' SET AS A SONG.] As ever met a Briton's ear. A lassie all alone, &c. I. VII. As I stood roofless by yon tower, He sang wi' joy his former day, Where the wa'flower scents the air ; He wail'd his latter times dewy weeping ; Where the houlet mourns in her ivy bower, But what he said it was nae play tells the moon her care And midnight ; I winna ventur't in my rhymes. A lassie all alone was making her moan, A lassie all alone was making her moan, lads the sea our ; lads the sea Lamenting beyond Lamenting our beyond ; In the wars and our honor's bluidy they fa', In the bluidy wars they fa', and our honor's and gane a', gane and a', And broken-hearted we maun die. And broken-hearted we maun die. II. The winds were laid, the air was still, The stars shot the they alang sky ; The tod was howling on the hill, And the distant-echoing glens reply. iRhat lieck I Ihtc! ^,lonis,' t_ bgO A lassie all alone, &c. " Tune." Louis, What Eeck I by Thee ! III. The burn, adown its hazelly path, Was rushing by the ruin'd wa', I. Hasting to join the sweeping Nith, Whase roarings seem'd to rise and fa'. Louis, what reck I by thee, A lassie all alone, &c. Or Geordie on his ocean : Dyvor, beggar louns to me IV. I reign in Jeanie's bosom ! The cauld blae North was streaming forth Her wi' eerie II. lights, hissing, din ; Athort the lift they start and shift, Let her crown my love her law, Like Fortune's favors, tint as win. And in her breast enthrone me A lassie all alone, &c. Kings and nations swith, awa ! Reif randies, I disown ye ! V. Now looking over firth and fauld, Her horn the rear'd pale-fac'd Cynthia ; When lo, in form of minstrel auld, stern and A stalwart ghaist appear'd. A lassie all alone, &c. JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. 155 Ctrmht Ihra' the Oh-hon ! for Somebody ! Oh-hey ! for ! " Somebody Tune. Comin Thro' the Bye." I could range the world around, For the sake o' Somebody ! II. I. Ye Powers that smile on virtuous love, COMIN thro' the rye, poor body, 0, smile on ! thro' sweetly Somebody Comin the rye ; Frae ilka danger keep him free, She draigl't a' her petticoatie, And send me safe my Somebody ! Comin thro' the rye. Oh-hon ! for Somebody ! Oh, Jenny's a' weet, poor body, Oh-hey ! for Somebody ! Jenny's seldom dry; I wad do what wad I not? She draigl't a' her petticoatie, For the sake o' Somebody ! Comin thro' the rye. II. Gin a body meet a body Comin thro' the rye, She sags she JEa'zs me $e*t ot a'. Gin a body kiss a body- " Tune. Onagh's Water-fall." Need a body cry ? III. I. Gin a body meet a body, SAE flaxen were her ringlets, Comin thro' the glen, Her eyebrows of a darker hue, Gin a body kiss a body o'er-arching Need the warld ken ? Bewitchingly een o' bonie blue Twa laughing ; Oh, Jenny's a' weet, poor body, Her smiling sae wyling, Jenny's seldom dry; make a wretch his Wad forget woe ; She draigl't a' her petticoatie, What pleasure, what treasure, Comin thro' the rye. Unto these rosy lips to grow : Such was my Chloris' bonie face, When first her bonie face I saw; And ay my Chloris' dearest charm, She says she lo'es me best of a'. " II, Tune. For the sake o' Somebody.' Like harmony her motion : Her pretty ankle is a spy Betraying fair proportion, I. make a saint the Wad forget sky ; MY heart is sail- I dare na tell, Sae warming, sae charming, heart is sair for Her fauteless air: My Somebody ; form and gracefu' I could wake a winter night Ilk feature auld Nature For the sake o' Somebody. Declar'd tha-t she could do nae mair LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS. Her's are the willing chains o' love, IV. law By conquering beauty's sovereign ; She made the bed baith large and wide, dearest And ay my Chloris' charm, Wi' twa white hands she spread it down; She she lo'es me best of a'. says She put the cup to her rosy lips, And drank, "Young man, now sleep ye sounV III. V. Let others love the city, at noon She snatch'd the candle in her hand, And gaudy shew sunny ; And frae chamber went wi' Gie me the lonely valley, my speed ; But I call'd her back The dewy eve, and rising moon quickly again To some mair below head. Fair beaming, and streaming lay my Her silver the ; light boughs amang VI. While falling, recalling, A cod she laid below my head, The amorous thrush concludes his sang : served wi' due And me respect ; There, dearest Chloris, wilt thou rove And to salute her wi' a kiss, By wimplin burn and leafy shaw, I put my arms about her neck. And hear my vows o' truth and love, And say thou lo'es me best of a' ? VII. " Haud aff your hands, young man," she says, " And dinna sae uncivil be : Gif ye hae ony luve for me, "' wrang na my virginitie ! florae fass Jftabe tht $eb to Jfte. VIII. Her hair was like the links o' " gowd, Tune. The lass that made the bed for me." Her teeth were like the ivorie ; Her cheeks like lilies dipt in wine, The lass that made the bed to me. I. IX. WHEN Januar' wind was blawing cauld, Her bosom was the driven snaw, As to the north I took way, my fair to see Twa drifted heaps sae ; The mirksome night did me enfauld, Her limbs the polish'd marble stane, I knew na whare to lodge till day. The lass that made the bed to me. II. X. luck a maid I By my gude met, I kiss'd her owre and owre again, in the middle o' care Just ; she wist na what to my And ay say ; And kindly she did me invite 1 laid her between me and the wa' To walk into a chamber fair. The lassie thought na lang till day. III. XI. I bow'd fu' low unto this maid, Upon the morrow when we rase, for courtesie And thank'd her for her courtesie ; 1 thank'd her her ; I bow'd fu' low unto this maid, But ay she blush'd and ay she sigh'd. " And bade her mak a bed for me. And said, Alas ! ye've ruin'd me." JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. XII. (D, Mat QK SSEha'js in 0tt I her waist, and kiss'd her syne, clasp'd Tune. "I'll ay ca' in by yon town." While the tear stood twinklin in her e'e ; " I said, My lassie, dinna cry, [FIRST SET: SECOND SET IN THOMSON'S COLLECTION.] For ye ay shall mak the bed to me." XIII. CHOKUS. She took her mither's Holland sheets, O wat ye wha's in yon town, see And made them a' in sarks to me : Ye the e'enin sun upon ? The dearest maid's in yon town, Blythe and merry may she be, That e'enin sun is shining on. The lass that made the bed to me. I. XIV. Now haply down yon gay green shaw, The bonie lass made the bed to me, She wanders by yon spreading tree ; The braw lass made the bed to me : How blest ye flow'rs that round her blaw, I'll ne'er forget till the day I die, Ye catch the glances o' her e'e ! The lass that made the bed to me. II. How blest ye birds that round her sing, And welcome in the blooming year ! Sac Jar Jltoa. And doubly welcome be the spring, The season to my Jeanie dear. Tune. "Dalkeith Maiden Bridge." III. The sun blinks blythe on yon town, I. Amang the broomy braes sae green; SAD and should I heavy part, But my delight in yon town, But for her sake sae far awa ; And dearest pleasure, is my Jean. Unknowing what my way may thwart, My native land sae far awa. IV. not a' the charms Thou that of a' things Maker art, Without my fair, That form'd this Fair sae far awa, 0' Paradise could yield me joy; Jeanie in Gie body strength, then I'll ne'er start But gie me my arms, At this my way sae far awa. And welcome Lapland's dreary sky ! II. V. How true is love to pure desert, My cave wad be a lover's bower, rent the So love to her, sae far awa : Tho' raging winter air; And nocht can heal my bosom's smart, And she a lovely little flower, While, oh ! she is sae far awa. That I wad tent and shelter there. Nane other love, nane other dart, VI. I feel, but her's sae far awa; is in But fairer never touch'd a heart sweet she yon town, The sinkin sun's down ; Than her's, the Fair sae far awa. gane upon A fairer than's in yon town His setting beam ne'er shone upon. 158 LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL w VII. milt <&hon b* JEg If angry fate is sworn my foe, Tune. "The Sutor's Dochter." I And suffering am doom'd to bear ; I careless quit aught else below, But, spare me, spare me Jeanie dear ! I. VIII. WILT thou be my dearie ? For while life's dearest blood is warm, When sorrow wrings thy gentle heart, frae her shall ne'er Ae thought depart, wilt thou let me cheer thee ? And she as fairest is her form I By the treasure of my soul, She has the kindest heart ! truest, That's the love I bear thee ! 1 swear and vow, that only thou O wat ye wha's in yon town, Shall ever be my dearie : Ye see the e'enin sun upon ? thou, I swear and vow, The dearest maid's in yon town Only That e'enin sun is shining; on. Shall ever be my dearie ! II. thou lo'es Lassie, say me ; Or if thou wilt na be my am, , tkg Motn. Say na thou'lt refuse me : " If it winna, canna be, Tune. May, thy Morn." Thou for thine may chuse me, Let me, lassie, quickly die, that thou lo'es me : I. Trusting Lassie, let me quickly die, MAY, thy morn was ne'er sae sweet Trusting that thou lo'es me ! the mirk o' As night 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 ; Stetoart And dear was she I dare na name, 0Up But I will remember. ay Tune. " Ye're Welcome, Charlie Stewart." II. And here's to them, that, like oursel, Can push about the jorum; I. And here's to them that wish us weel, LOVELY Polly Stewart ! a' May that's gude watch o'er them charming Polly Stewart ! And here's to them we dare na tell, There's ne'er a flower that blooms in May The dearest o' the quorum; That's half so fair as thou art. here's And to them we dare na tell, The flower it blaws, it fades, it fa's, The dearest o' the ! it quorum And art can ne'er renew ; But worth and truth eternal youth Will gie to Polly Stewart. JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. 159 II. 0f whase arms shall fauld May he, thy charms, " Tune. Could aught of Song." . Possess a leal and true heart ; To him be given, to ken the heaven He grasps in Polly Stewart ! lovely Polly Stewart ! I. charming Polly Stewart! COULD aught of song declare my pains, There's ne'er a flower that blooms in May Could artful numbers move thee, That's half so fair as thou art. The muse should tell, in labor'd strains, Mary, how I love thee ! They who but feign a wounded heart teach the to May lyre languish ; But what avails the pride of art, mintzv at fife, When wastes the soul with anguish? Tune." The Winter of Life." n. Then let the sudden bursting sigh heart-felt discover The pang ; I. And in the keen, yet tender eye, BUT lately seen in gladsome green, read th' imploring lover. The woods the rejoiced day ; For well I know thy gentle mind Thro' showers the flowers gentle laughing Disdains art's gay disguising; In double were : pride gay Beyond what Fancy e'er refin'd, But now our are fled joys The voice of Nature prizing. On winter blasts awa 1 Yet maiden May, in rich array, Again shall bring them a'. II. But my white pow nae kindly thowe melt the snaws of Shall Age ; 39m'* to thj) 3ailih, ntg Dome fam trunk of eild, but buss or beild, My " Tune. Laggan Burn." Sinks in Time's wintry rage. Oh! Age has weary days, And nights o' sleepless pain ! Thou time o' Youthfu' golden prime, I. Why comes thou not again ? HERE'S to thy health, my bonie lass, Gude night and joy be wi' thee; I'll come nae mair to thy bower-door, To tell thee that I lo'e thee. dinna think, my pretty pink, But I can live without thee : 1 vow and swear I dinna care, How lang ye look about ye. LIFE AND WORKS [POKTICA L WORKS. II. Fond lovers' parting is sweet painful pleasure, mild on the ! Thou'rt ay 8ae free informing me, Hope beaming soft parting hour But the dire to farewell for ever ! Thou hast nae mind marry ; feeling, and I'll be as free informing thee, Anguish unmingl'd, agony pure. Nae time hae I to tarry. II. I ken thy friends try ilka means, to Wild as the winter now the Frae wedlock delay thee ; tearing forest, Till the last leaf o' the Depending on some higher chance- summer is flown, Such is the has shaken But fortune may betray thee. tempest my bosom, Till last my hope and last comfort is gone ! III. Still as I hail thee, thou gloomy December, Still shall I hail thee wi' sorrow and I ken they scorn my low estate, care; But that does For sad was the thou makes me never grieve me ; parting remember, wi' oh! ne'er to mair! For I'm as free as any he, Parting Nancy, meet Sma' siller will relieve me. I'll count my health my greatest wealth, Sae as I'll it lang enjoy ; I'll fear nae scant, I'll bode nae want, 's Jace. As lang's I get employment. Tune, "My Peggy's Face." IV. But far-off fowls hae feathers fair : until And ay ye try them, I. Tho' seem still have a care they fair, ; MY Peggy's face, my Peggy's form, as bad as I am. They may prove The frost of hermit age might warm ; But at twal at night, when the moon shines My Peggy's worth, my Peggy's mind, bright, Might charm the first of human kind. I'll come and see thee My dear, ; I love my Peggy's angel air, For the man that lo'es his mistress wee] Her face so truly heav'nly fair, Nae travel makes him weary. Her native grace so void of art, But I adore my Peggy's heart. II. The lily's hue, the rose's dye, Bmmber. The lustre of an dhrmttj) kindling eye ; Who but owns their ? " magic sway Tune. Wandering Willie. Who but knows they all decay ! The tender thrill, the pitying tear, The generous purpose nobly dear, The look that I. gentle rage disarms These are all Immortal charms. I hail ANCE mair thee, thou gloomy December ! Ance mair I hail thee wi' sorrow and care : Sad was the parting thou makes me remember, Parting wi' Nancy, oh ! ne'er to meet mair. c%- 'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. III. " He spak o' the darts o' black een, Tune. steer her tip, and haud her gaun." my bonny An' for love he diein 0, my was ; I said he might die when he liket, for Jean I. The gude forgie me for liein, for liein ! The me for liein ! [0 STEER her up and haud her gaun gude forgie Her mither's at the mill, jo; IV. An' gin she winna tak a man, But what do ye think, in a fortnight or less, E'en let her tak her will, jo :] deil's in his taste to near First shore her wi' a kindly kiss, (The gae her!) He's down to the castle to black cousin Bess, And ca' anither gill, jo ; Think, how the I cou'd endure her, endure her An' gin she tak the thing amiss, jade Think, how the jade I cou'd endure her ! E'en let her flyte her fill, jo. II. V. An' a' the niest ouk as I fretted wi' steer her up and be na blate, care, I to the o' gaed tryst Dalgarlock ; An' gin she tak it ill, jo, An' wha but braw fickle wooer was there, Then lea'e the lassie till her fate, my Wha as if he'd seen a a warlock : : glowr'd warlock, And time nae langer spill, jo Wha as if he'd seen a warlock. Ne'er break your heart for ae rebute, glowr'd But think it still, upon jo, VI. That gin the lassie winna do't, Out owre left shouther I gie'd him a blink, Ye'll fin' anither will, jo. my Lest should think I neighbours was saucy ; My wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink, And vow'd that I was a dear lassie, dear lassie : Bag a And vow'd that I was a dear lassie. Tune. "The Queen of the Lothians." VII. I spier'd for my cousin, fu' couthie an' sweet, [FIRST SET: SECOND SET IN THOMSON'S COLLECTION.] An' if she'd recover'd her hearin; An' how my auld shoon fitted her shauchel't feet? I. ' Gude saf us ! how he fell a-swearin, a-swearin : AE day a braw wooer cam down the lang glen, Gude saf us ! how he fell a-swearin ! An' sair wi' his love he did deave me ; VIII. I I like But said there was naething hated men ; The deuce gae wi' him to believe me, believe me ; He begg'd me for gudesake that I'd be his wife, wi' him to believe me ! else I kill wi' sorrow The deuce gae Or wad him ; An' just to preserve the poor bodie in life, II. I think I will wed him to-morrow, to-morrow : A weel-stocket mailen, himsel o't the laird, I think I will wed him to-morrow. An' bridal aff-han' was the proffer; I never loot on that I ken'd or I car'd, But thought I might get a waur offer, waur offer But thought I might get a waur offer. 2 F LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL wU'uliKS. ale and ale (D ag nt|) (Hift *\u Hattg me. gude comes, gude goes, " Gude ale gars me sell my hose; Tune. My wife she dang me." Sell my hose, and pawn my shoon, Gude ale keeps my heart aboon. I. AY my wife she dang me, An' aft my wife she bang'd me; If ye gie a woman a' her will, " Gude faith, she'll soon o'er-gang ye. Tune. Push about the jorum." On peace and rest my mind was bent, And fool I was, I marry'd; I. But never honest man's intent, DOES Gaul invasion threat ? As cursedly miscarry'd. haughty Then let the louns beware, Sir ; II. There's wooden walls upon our seas, Some sairie comfort still at last, And Volunteers on shore, Sir : a' thir are man The Nith shall rin to Corsincon, When days done, ; The Criffel sink in Sol My pains o' hell on earth are past, way, I'm sure o' bliss aboon, man. Ere we permit a foreign foe ay my wife she dang me, On British ground to rally ! An' aft wife she We'll ne'er a foe my bang'd me ; permit foreign British to ! If ye gie a woman a' her will, On ground rally Glide faith, she'll soon o'er-gang ye. II. let us not, like snarling curs, be divided In wrangling ; Till, slap ! come in an unco loun, Gude ale me sell hose ! gars my ; Maun British wrangs be righted Sell my hose, and pawn my shoon, III. Gude ale keeps my heart aboon. The kettle o' the Kirk and State, 1 had sax owsen in a pleugh, a clout fail in't; a' el Perhaps may They drew we eneugh ; But deil a tinkler loun I sell'd them a' just ane by ane, foreign Shall ever ca' a nail in't : Gude ale keeps my heart aboon. Our fathers' blude the kettle bought, II. it And wha \vad dare to spoil ; Gude ale hauds me bare and busy, By Heavens ! the sacrilegious dog- Gars me moop wi' the servant hizzie, Shall fuel be to boil it : Stand i' the stool when I hae done, By Heavens ! the sacrilegious dog Gude ale keeps my heart aboon. Shall fuel be to boil it! JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. 163 IV. V. wretch that would a The tyrant own, My lady's dink, my lady's drest, And the his true sworn brother, The flower and o' the wretch, fancy west ; Who would set the mob above the throne, But the lassie that a man lo'es best, May they be damn'd together ! that's the lass to mak him blest. " Who will not sing God save the King," Shall as the hang high's steeple ; " But while we sing God save the King," We'll ne'er forget the People : " ta'ttt ilu But while we sing God save the King," parting We'll ne'er the ! " forget People Tune. Jockey's ta'en the parting kiss. I. JOCKEY'S ta'en the parting kiss, Jftg Jabj)** d0tott, that's dairs upon't. O'er the mountains he is gane ; Tune. "Gregg's Pipes." And with him is a' my bliss, Nought but griefs with me remain. Spare my luve, ye winds that blaw, I. Plashy sleets and beating rain ! MY there's lady's gown, gairs upon't, Spare my luve, thou feathery snaw, And flowers sae rare ; gowden upon't Drifting o'er the frozen plain. But Jenny's jimps and jirkinet, II. My lord thinks meikle mair upoii't. When the shades of My lord a-hunting he is gane, evening creep O'er the day's fair, gladsome e'e, But hounds or hawks wi' him are nane ; Sound and he By Colin's cottage lies his game, safely may sleep, his be ! If Colin's Jenny be at hame. Sweetly blythe waukening He Avill think on her he loves, II. he'll her name Fondly repeat ; My lady's white, my lady's red, For whare'er he distant roves, And kith and kin o' Cassillis' blude ; Jockey's heart is still at hame. But her teii-pund lands o' tocher gude Were a' the charms his lordship lo'ed. III. o'er o'er Out yon muir, out yon moss, ) fntbe Whare gor-cocks thro' the heather pass, Tune. " Mauchline Belles." There wons auld Colin's bonie lass, A lily in a wilderness. IV. I. Sae sweetly move her genty limbs, O LEAVE novels, ye Mauchline belles, Like music notes o' lovers' : safer at hymns Ye're your spinning-wheel ; The diamond dew is her een sae blue, Such witching books are baited hooks Where laughing love sae wanton swims. For rakish rooks, like Rob Mossgiel. 9 164 LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS. Your fine Tom Jones and Grandisons, toss a $0nie fancies reel They make your youthful ; Tune. "A favourite Slow March." They heat your brains, and fire your veins, And then you're prey for Rob Mossgiel. II. THERE Beware a tongue that's smoothly hung, was a bonie lass, and a bonie, bonie lass, heart to feel And she lo'ed her bonie laddie A that warmly seems ; dear; Till war's loud alarms tore her laddie frae her That feeling heart but acts a part arms, Wi' a and a tear. 'Tis rakish art in Rob Mossgiel. mony sigh The frank address, the soft caress, II. darts of steel Are worse than poisoned ; Over over where the cannons The frank address, and politesse, sea, shore, loudly roar, He still was a to Are all finesse in Rob Mossgiel. stranger fear; And nocht could him quail, or his bosom assail, But the bonie lass he lo'ed sae dear. Tune. "Mally's Meek." I. LAY loof in lass, thy mine, I. In in mine, lass, mine, lass ; MALLY'S meek, Mally's sweet, And swear on thy white hand, lass, modest and discreet That thou wilt be my ain. Mally's ; Mally's rare, Mally's fail-, A slave to love's unbounded sway, aft meikle Mally's every way complete. He has wrought me wae ; As I was walking up the street, But now he is my deadly fae, A barefit maid I chanc'd to meet Unless thou be my ain. ; But the road was very hard II. For that fair maiden's tender feet. There's monie a lass has broke rest, my II. That for a blink I hae lo'ed best ; It were mair meet, that those fine feet But thou art queen within my breast, Were weel lac'd in silken For ever to remain. up shoon; And 'twere more fit that she should sit, lay thy loof in mine, lass, Within yon chariot gilt aboon. In mine, lass, in mine, lass ; And swear on thy white hand, lass, III. That thou wilt be my ain. Her yellow hair, beyond compare, Comes trinkling down her swan-white neck; And her two eyes, like stars in skies, Would keep a sinking ship frae wreck I SONGS: [NOT ORIGINALLY ACKNOWLEDGED BY AUTHOR] Sihar bib Hit ttUafcer'* gin fje Tune. " Bonie Dundee." Tune. " To the Weaver's." [ORIGINAL SET.] I. I. MY heart was ance as blythe and free bannock ? [0- WHAR did ye get that hauver-meal As simmer were lang, dinna 1 days silly blind body, ye see But a bonie, westlin weaver lad I gat it frae a young, brisk Sodger laddie, Has gart me change my sang. Between Saint Johnston and bonie Dundee.] gin I saw the laddie that gae me't ! [To the weaver's gin ye go, fair maids, Aft has he doudl'd me his knee ; the upon To weaver's gin ye go ; I rede ne'er at May Heaven protect my bonie Scots laddie, you right, gang night, To the weaver's gin ye go.] And send him safe hame to his babie and me ! II. II. My mither sent me to the town My blessins upon thy sweet wee lippie ! To warp a plaiden wab; My blessins upon thy bonie e'e brie ! But the weary, weary warpin o't Thy smiles are sae like my blythe Sodger laddie, Has gart me sigh and sab. Thou's ay the dearer and dearer to me ! But I'll a bow'r on bonie big yon banks, III. rins sae clear Whare Tay wimplin by ; A bonie, westlin weaver lad And I'll cleed thee in the tartan sae fine, Sat working at his loom; And mak thee a man like thy daddie dear. He took my heart as wi' a net In every knot and thrum. 166 LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS. IV. III. I sat beside my warpin-wheel, Fu' loud and shill the frosty wind, I ca'd it roun' And ay ; Blaws thro' the leafless timmer, Sir; But shot every and 'every knock, But if ye come this gate again, My heart it gae a stoun. I'll aulder be gin simmer, Sir. V. I'm o'er young, I'm o'er young, I'm o'er young to marry yet : The moon was sinking in the west I'm o'er young 'twad be a sin To tak me frae Wi' visage pale and wan, my mammy yet. As my bonie, westlin weaver lad Convoy'd me thro' the glen. VI. But what was said, or what was done, fa' I tell Shame me gin ; Tune. "M'Pherson's Rant." But Oh ! I fear the kintra soon Will ken as weel's mysel ! [To the weaver's gin ye go, fair maids, the To weaver's gin ye go ; I rede you right, gang ne'er at night, FAREWELL, ye dungeons dark and strong, To the weaver's gin ye go.] The wretch's destinie ! Macpherson's time will not be long On yonder gallows-tree. Sae rantingly, sae wantonly, Sae he dauntingly gae'd ; I am mt> ae 58 aim. JEammj)'* He play'd a spring, and danc'd it round, Below the " gallows-tree. Tune. I'm o'er young to many yet." II. what is death but parting breath ? I. On many a bloody plain I've dar'd his and in this I AM my mammy's ae bairn, face, place I scorn him ! Wi' unco folk I weary, Sir; yet again And lying in a man's bed, III. I'rn fley'd it mak me eerie, Sir. Untie these bands from off my hands, I'm o'er I'm o'er young, young, And to me sword; o'er to bring my I'm young marry yet ; And there's no a man in all I'm o'er young 'twad be a sin Scotland, To tak me frae my mammy yet. But I'll brave him at a word. II. IV Hallowmass is come and I've liv'd a life of sturt and strife gane, ; are in Sir I : The nights lang winter, ; die by treacherie And you an' I in ae bed, It burns my heart I must depart, In trowth, I dare na venture, Sir. And not avenged be. JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. V. V. Now farewell, light thoir sunshine bright, For her I'll dare the billows' roar, And all beneath the sky ! For her I'll trace a distant shore, May coward shame distain his name, That Indian wealth may lustre throw The wretch that dares not die ! Around my Highland lassie, 0. Sae rantingly, sae wantonly, VI. Sae lie dauntingly gae'd ; He play'd a spring, and danc'd it round, She has my heart, she has my hand, Below the gallows-tree. By sacred truth and honor's band ! 'Till the mortal stroke shall lay me low, I'm thine, my Highland lassie, 0. Farewell the glen sae bushy, ! Farewell the plain sae rashy, ! To other lands I now must go, To sing my Highland lassie, O. " Time. M'Lauchlan's Scots Measure." I. NAE gentle dames, tho' ne'er sae fair, M Shall ever be muse's care : my " Tune. What will I do gin my Hoggie die?" Their titles a' are empty show; Gie me my Highland lassie, 0. Within the glen sae bushy, O, WHAT will I do die ? Aboon the plain sae rashy, 0, gin my Hoggie I set me down wi' right gude will, My joy, my pride, my Hoggie ! To O. sing my Highland lassie, My only beast, I had nae mae, And vow but I was vogie ! II. The lee-lang night we watch'd the fauld, were hills and vallies mine, yon Me and my faithfu' doggie; Yon and gardens fine ! palace yon We heard nocht but the roaring linn, The world then the love should know Amang the braes sae scroggie. 1 bear lassie, 0. my Highland But the houlet cry'd frae the castle wa', The blitter frae the boggie, III. The tod reply'd upon the hill, But fickle fortune frowns on me, I trembled for my Hoggie. And I maun cross the sea raging ; When day did daw, and cocks did craw, But while crimson currents my flow, The it was morning foggie ; I love Highland lassie, 0. my An unco tyke lap o'er the dyke, And maist has kill'd ! IV. my Hoggie Altho' thro' foreign climes I range, I know her heart will never change, For her bosom burns with honor's glow, My faithful Highland lassie, 0. *(3 168 LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS. Up in tht JErrming Tho' fickle fortune has deceiv'd me She promis'd fair, and but ill, Tune. " Cauld blaws the Wind." perform'd Of mony a joy and hope bereav'd me I bear a heart shall support me still. I. CAULD blaws the wind frae east to west, drift is The driving sairly ; Sae loud and shill 's I hear the blast I'm sure it's winter fairly. Tune. "Duncan Davison." Up in the morning's no for me, in the Up morning early ; When a' the hills are cover'd wi' snaw, I'm sure it's winter fairly. I. II. THERE was a lass, they ca'd her Meg, And she held o'er the moors to The birds sit chittering in the thorn, spin ; There was a lad that follow'd her, A' day they fare but sparely; ca'd him Duncan Davison. And lang's the night frae e'en to morn They The moor was driegh, and was I'm sure it's winter fairly. Meg skiegh, Her favour Duncan could na win ; in the no for me, Up morning's For wi' the rock she wad him knock, in the Up morning early ; And she shook the When a' the hills are cover'd wi' snaw, ay temper-pin. I'm sure it's winter fairly. II. As o'er the moor they lightly foor, A burn was a was clear, glen green ; Upon the banks they eas'd their shanks, I lag. And ay she set the wheel between : Tune. "I dream'd I lay." But Duncan swoor a haly aith, That should be a bride the Meg morn ; Then Meg took up her spinnin-graith, I. And flang them a' out o'er the burn. I DREAM'D I lay where flowers were springing in the III. Gaily sunny beam ; List'ning to the wild birds singing, We will big a wee, wee house, By a falling chrystal stream : And we will live like king and queen; the black Straight sky grew and daring; Sae blythe and merry 's we will be, Thro' the woods the whirlwinds rave ; When ye set by the wheel at e'en. Trees with arms were A man and no be drunk aged warring, may drink, ; O'er the drumlie wave. A man and no be slain swelling may fight, ; A man may kiss a bonie lass, II. And ay be welcome back again ! 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. JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. JEetm**' $0nu II. Her house sae her curch sae Tune. "The Euffian's Eant." bien, clean, I wat she is a dainty chuckie ; And cheary blinks the ingle-gleede I. 0' Lady Onlie, honest Lucky ! IN the o' coming by brig Dye, Lady Onlie, honest Lucky, o' At Darlet a blink did Brews ale at shore ; we tarry ; glide Bucky I wish her sale for her gude ale, As day was dawin in the sky, The best on a' the shore o' Bucky. We drank a health to bonie Mary. Theniel Menzies' bonie Mary ; Theniel Menzies' bonie Mary ; Charlie Grigor tint his plaidie, Kissin Theniel's bonie Mary. Her een sae bright, her brow sae white, Her haffet locks as brown's a berry ; And ay they dimpl't wi' a smile, i. The rosy cheeks o' bonie Mary. WEARY fa' you, Duncan Gray- Ha, ha, the girdin o't! III. Wae gae by you, Duncan Gray We and danc'd the lee-lang day, lap Ha, ha, the girdin o't ! Till lads were wae and ; piper weary When a' the lave gae to their play, But Charlie the to gat spring pay, Then I maun sit the lee-lang day, For kissin Themel's bonie Mary. And jeeg the cradle wi' my tae, And a' for the o't ! Theniel Menzies' bonie Mary, girdin Theniel Menzies' bonie Mary ; II. Charlie Grigor tint his plaidie, Kissin Theniel's bonie Mary. 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, ODttlu. I tint curch and baith shoon my my ; Tune. "The Euffian's Eant." And, Duncan, ye're an unco loun Wae on the bad girdin o't ! III. I. But, Duncan, gin ye'll your aith A' THE lads o' Thornie-bank, keep Ha,- ha, the girdin o't! When they gae to the shore o' Bucky, I'se bless you wi' my hindmost breath They'll step in and tak a pint Ha, ha, the girdin o't! Wi' Lady Onlie, honest Lucky ! Duncan, gin ye'll keep your aith, honest Lady Onlie, Lucky, The beast again can bear us baith, ale at shore o' Brews gude Bucky ; And auld Mess John will mend the skaith, I wish her sale for her gude ale, The best on a' the shore o' Bucky. And clout the bad girdin o't ! 2 G 170 [POETICAL WORKS. l)0to Jjntg attb Urarg is the flight II. For a' his meal and a' his A Gaelic Air. maut, For a' his fresh beef and his saut, For a' his gold and white monie, SET: SECOND SET IN THOMSON'S [FIRST COLLECTION.] An auld man shall never daunton me. III. I. His gear buy him kye and yowes, How long and dreary is the night, may His him gear may buy glens and knowes ; When I am frae my dearie ! But me he shall not buy nor fee, I sleepless lye frae e'en to morn, For an auld man shall never daunton me. Tho' I were ne'er so weary : I frae e'en to morn, sleepless lye IV. Tho' I were ne'er so weary! He hirples twa-fauld as he dow, II. Wi' his teethle&s gab and his auld beld pow, When I think on the happy days And the rain rains down frae his red blear'd e'e I spent wi' you, my dearie : That auld man shall never daunton me. And now what lands between us lie, To daunton me, and me sae young, How can I be but eerie ! Wi' his fause heart and flatt'ring tongue ! And now what lands between us That is the ne'er shall see lie, thing you ; For an auld man shall never daunton me. How can I be but eerie ! III. How slow ye move, ye heavy hours, As ye were wae and weary ! It was na sae ye glinted by, When I was wi' my dearie : It was na sae ye glinted by, Tune. "Braes o' Balquhidder.'' When I was wi' my dearie ! [STANZA I. NOT IN ORIGINAL EDITION.] II. (iarbetur toi' his When in arms, wi' a' charms, my thy " Tune. The Gardener wi' his Paidle. I clasp my countless treasure, ! I seek nae mair o' Heav'n to share Than sic a moment's pleasure, ! I seek nae mair o' Heav'n to share I. Than sic a moment's pleasure, ! WHEN rosy May comes in wi' flowers, III. To deck her bowers gay, green spreading ; And by thy een sae bony blue, Then busy, busy are his hours The his I swear I'm thine for ever, ! gardener wi' paidle. I The waters fa' And on thy lips seal my vow, chrystal gently ; The birds are lovers a' And break it shall I never, ! merry ; The scented breezes round him blaw And on thy lips I seal my vow, The wi' his And break it shall I never, ! gardener paidle. An' I'll kiss th.ee yet, yet, II. An' I'll kiss thee o'er again ; starts hare An' I'll kiss thee yet, yet, When purple morning the Alison ! To steal her fare My bony Peggy upon early ; Then thro' the dews he maun repair The gardener wi' his paidle. When day, expiring in the west, The curtain draws of nature's rest ; He flies to her arms he lo'es the best Tune. "Ye GaUants Bright." The gardener wi' his paidle. I. YE gallants bright, I rede you right, -Beware o' bonie Ann; Her comely face sae fu' o' grace, Your heart she will : trepan |L0b, she's bwt a |Cassh Her een sae bright, like stars by night, Tune. Badinscoth's Keel." Her skin is like the swan ; "Lady Sae jimply lac'd her genty waist, That sweetly ye might span. II. I. love attendant she's but a lassie Youth, grace, and move, MY love, yet ; leads the van : she's but a lassie And pleasure My love, yet ; In a' their charms, and conquering arms, We'll let her stand a year or twa, They wait on bonie Ann. She'll no be half sae saucy yet. bands chain the I rue the I The captive may hands, day sought her, ; But love enslaves the man : I rue the day I sought her, 0; he's Ye gallants braw, I rede you a', Wha gets her needs na say woo'd, Beware o' bonie Ann ! But he may say he's bought her, 1 172 LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS. II. Jftg o' the best o't Come, draw a drap yet ; " Tune. Go fetch to me a Pint o' Wine." Come, draw a drap o' the best o't yet : Gae seek for pleasure whare ye will, But here I never miss't it yet. drinkin o't I. We're a' dry wi' ; We're a' wi' drinkin o't : dry Go fetch to me a pint o' wine, minister kiss't the fiddler's wife The And fill it in a silver tassie; He could na for thinkin o't! preach That I may drink before I go, A service to my bonie lassie. boat at the o' Leith The rocks pier ; frae Fu' loud the wind blaws the ferry ; The ship rides by the Berwick-law, And I maun leave my bonie Mary. Jamu, C0nu II. Tune. "Jamie, come try me." The trumpets sound, the banners fly, are ranked The glittering spears ready ; The shouts o' war are heard afar, CHOBUS. The battle closes thick and bloody : It's not the roar o' sea or shore, Jamie, come try me, to Wad make me langer wish tarry ; Jamie, come try me ; If thou would win my love, Nor shouts o' war that's heard afar Jamie, come try me. It's leaving thee, my bonie Mary ! I. IF thou should ask my love, Could I deny thee ? If thou would win my love, 0'*r the fatoe o't. Jamie, come try me. " Tune. Whistle o'er the lave o't." II. If thou should kiss me, love, Wha could espy thee ? [ORIGINAL SET.] If thou wad be my love, Jamie, come try me. I. Jamie, come try me, FIRST when Maggy was my care, Jamie, come try me ; in her If thou would win my love, Heaven, I thought, was air; come me. Jamie, try 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 beguil'd, So whistle o'er the lave o't. m JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. II. a itfttth in this Citt). How we live, and my Meg me, To a Gaelic Air. How we love and how we 'gree, I care na by how few may see : Whistle o'er the lave o't. I. Wha I wish were maggots' meat, THERE'S a in this it were a Dish'd up in her winding-sheet, youth city, great pity That he frae our lasses should wander awa : I could write but Meg maun see't For he's boiiie an' Whistle o'er the lave o't. braw, weel-favoured with a', And his hair has a natural buckle an' a'. His coat is the hue of 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'. His hose they are blae, &c. A Gaelic Air. II. For beauty and fortune the laddie's been courtin; I. Weel-featur'd, weel-tocher'd, weel-mounted and braw DEAR MYRA, the captive Ribband's mine, ; But the that him till her 'Twas all faithful love could chiefly siller, gars gang my gain ; The the that beautifies a'. And would you ask me to resign pennie's jewel There's wi' the mailen that fain wad'a haen him; The sole reward that crowns my pain ? Meg laird o' the Ha' And Susie, whase daddy was ; II. There's lang-tocher'd Nancy maist fetters his fancy- the dear sel' he lo'es dearest of a'. Go bid the hero who has run But laddie's There's &c. Thro' fields of death to gather fame, lang-tocher'd Nancy, Go bid him lay his laurels down And all his well earri'd praise disclaim. III. The Ribband shall its freedom lose, part's in tlu I Lose all the bliss it had with you, " Tune. Failte na Miosg." And share the fate I would impose On thee, wert thou my captive too. IV. I. is MY heart's in the heart not here ; It shall upon my bosom live, Highlands, my in the the deer in a close embrace heart's Highlands a-chasing ; Or clasp me ; My the wild and the roe Arid at its fortune if you grieve A-chasing deer, following heart's in the wherever I Retrieve its doom and take its place. My Highlands, go. Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North, of worth The birth-place of valour, the country ; Wherever I wander, wherever I rove, The hills of the Highlands for ever I love. m 174 LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS. II. 10jj, tht babbie c't Farewell to the mountains cover'd with snow; high Tune. East Nook o' Fife." Farewell to the straths and green vallies below : Farewell to the forests and wild hanging woods; Farewell to the torrents and loud pouring floods. I. heart's in heart is not here My the Highlands, iny ; WHA babie-clouts will buy ? My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer; my wha will tent me when I cry ? Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe Wha will kiss me where I lie ? My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go. The rantin dog, the daddie o't. II. wha will own he did the faut ? wha will buy the groanin maut ? wha will tell me how to ca't ? h&t I bnn ^ttihin a tytMt. The rantin dog, the daddie o't. Tune. "Lord Breadalbane's March." III. When I mount the creepie-chair, Wha will sit beside me there ? I. Gie me Rob, I'll seek nae mair, The rantin dog, the daddie o't. MERRY hae I been teethin a heckle, An' hae I been a merry shapin spoon ; IV. merry hae I been cloutin a kettle, Wha will crack to me my lane 1 An' kissin my Katie when a' was done. Wha will mak me fidgin fain ? a' the lang day I ca' at my hammer, Wha will kiss me o'er again ? An' a' the lang day I whistle and sing'; The rantin dog, the daddie o't. 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 0' marrying Bess, to gie her a slave : " Tune. My Eppie." Blest be the hour she cool'd in her linnens, And blythe be the bird that sings on her grave ! Come to arms, my Katie, my Katie; my I. An' come to my arms and kiss me again ! AN' ! my Eppie, Druken or sober, here's to thee, Katie ! jewel, Eppie! And blest be the day I did it again. My my Wha wadna be happy Wi'Eppie Adairl By love, and by beauty, By law, and by duty, I swear to be true to My Eppie Adair ! JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. II. ha* J An' ! my Eppie, Tune. " Killiecrankie." My jewel, my Eppie ! Wha wadna be happy Wi' Eppie Adair? exile A' pleasure me, I. Dishonour defile me, WHARE hae ye been sae braw, lad ? If e'er I beguile thee, Whare hae ye been sae brankie, ? My Eppie Adair ! 0, whare hae ye been sae braw, lad ? Cam ye by Killiecrankie, ? [An ye had been whare I hae been, Ye wad na been sae cantie, ; An ye had seen what I hae seen, On the braes o' Killiecrankie, 0.] II. " Tune. Young Jockey." I at I at sea faught land, faught ; At hame I faught my auntie, ; But I met the Devil and Dundee, On the braes o' 0. I. Killiecrankie, The bauld Pitcur fell in a furr, YOUNG was the lad Jockey blythest An' a Clavers gat clankie, ; In a' our town or here awa : Or I had fed an Athole gled, Fu' blythe he whistled at the gaud, On the braes o' Killiecrankie, 0. Fu' lightly danc'd he in the ha'. He roos'd my een sae bonie blue, waist sae sma' He roos'd my genty ; And ay my heart cam to my mou', When ne'er a body heard or saw. II. 'Il fitbtt b* f) *ac*. My Jockey toils upon the plain, thro' frost and " Thro' wind and weet, snaw; Tune. There are few gude fellows when "Willie's awa. And o'er the lee I leuk fu' fain, When Jockey's owsen hameward ca'. An' ay the night comes round again, a' I. When in his arms he taks me ; An' ay he vows he'll be my ain, BY yon castle wa', at the close of the day, has a breath to draw. ; As lang 's he I heard a man sing, though his head it was grey And as he was singing the tears down came, There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame. is The church is in ruins, the state in jars ; murderous wars Delusions, oppressions, and ; We darena weel say't, but we ken wha's to blame There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame ! r <&tf y^cx m 176 LIFE AND WORKS '[POETICAL WORKS. II. IV. seven sons for My braw Jamie drew sword, A pair o' gloves he bought to me, I in And now round their beds the ; And silken snoods he greet green yerd gae me twa ; It brak the sweet heart of faithfu' auld dame my And I will wear them for his sake, There'll never be till Jamie comes hame. peace The bonie lad that's far awa : life is a that Now burden bows me down, And I will wear them for his sake, Sin' I tint and he tint his crown my bairns, ; The bonie lad that's far awa. But till my last moments my words are the same There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame ! V. weary Winter soon will pass, And will the Spring deed birken shaw ; And my young babie will be born, And he'll be hame that's far awa : And my young babie will be born, Aanit fab that'* Jar And he'll be hame that's far awa ! " Tune. The Bonie Lad that's Far Awa." [STANZA II. NOT IN ORIGINAL EDITION.] )0n fHUb Jfanssg " I. Tune. Yon Wild Mossy Mountains." [0 HOW can I be blythe and gla'd,] 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? I. When the bonie lad that I lo'e best YON wild mossy mountains sae lofty and wide, Is o'er the hills and far awa ? That nurse in their bosom the youth o' the Clyde, Where the grouse lead their coveys thro' the heather II. to feed. It's no the frosty winter wind, And the shepherd tents his flock as he pipes on his It's no the drift and reed: driving snaw ; But ay the tear comes in my e'e, Where the grouse lead their coveys thro' the heather To think on him that's far awa : to feed, But ay the tear comes in my e'e, And the shepherd tents his flock as he pipes on his To think on him that's far awa. reed: III. II. My father pat me frae his door, Not Gowrie's rich valley, nor Forth's sunny shores, friends hae disown'd me a' To hae the o' My they ; me charms yon wild, mossy moors ; But I hae ane will tak my part, For there, by a lanely, sequestered stream, The bonie lad that's far awa : Resides a sweet lassie, my thought and my dream : But I hae ane will tak my part, For there, by a lanely, sequestered stream, The bonie lad that's far awa. Resides a sweet lassie, my thought and my dream. JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. III. come thy ways to me, my Eppie M'Nab ! come to me, M'Nab ! Amang thae wild mountains shall still be my path, thy ways my Eppie Whate'er thou hast be it be it Ilk stream foaming down its ain green, narrow strath; done, late, soon, Thou's welcome to ain Jock Rab. For there, wi' my lassie, the day-lang I rove, again thy While o'er us unheeded flie the swift hours o' love : II. For there, wi' my lassie, the day-lang I rove, What While o'er us unheeded flie the swift hours o' love. says she, my dearie, my Eppie M'Nab? What says she, my dearie, my Eppie M'Nab ? IV. She lets thee to wit, that she has thee forgot, And for ever disowns her ain She is fair thee, Jock Rab. not the fairest, altho' she is ; had I ne'er seen ! 0' is thee, Eppie M'Nab nice education, but sma' her share ; my had I ne'er ! Her as be seen thee, my Eppie M'Nab parentage humble humble can ; As as the air, and fause as thou's fair, But I lo'e the dear lassie because she lo'es me : light Thou's broken the heart o' ain Jock Rab ! Her parentage humble as humble can be; thy 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 ? Tune. "Miss Muir." And when wit and refinement hae polished her darts, They dazzle our een as they flie to our hearts : And when wit and refinement hae polish'd her darts, I. They dazzle our een as they flie to our hearts. HOW shall I, unskilfu', try VI. The poet's occupation? But kindness, sweet kindness, in the fond sparkling The tunefu' powers, in happy hours, That e'e, whisper inspiration ; Has lustre outshining the diamond to me; Even they maun dare an effort mair, And the heart beating love as I'm clasp' d in her arms, Than aught they ever gave us, 0, these are my lassie's all-conquering charms ! Or they rehearse, in equal verse, And the heart beating love as I'm clasp'd in her arms, The charms o' lovely Davies. 0, these are my lassie's all-conquering charms! Each eye it chears when she appears, Like Phoebus in the morning, When past the shower, and ev'ry flower The garden is adorning: As the wretch looks o'er Siberia's shore, When winter-bound the wave is ; Tune. M'Nab." "Eppie Sae droops our heart, when we maun part Frae charming lovely Davies. I. II. smile's a frae 'boon the SAW ye my dearie, my Eppie M'Nab ? Her gift lift, That maks us mair than saw ye my dearie, my Eppie M'Nab ? princes ; in the she's kissin laird a She's down yard, the ; A scepter'd hand, king's command, She winna come hame to her ain Jock Rab. Is in her darting glances : 2 H LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS. The man in arms 'gainst female charms, IV. Even he her slave is willing ; At last her feet I sang to see't He hugs his chain, and owns the reign Gaed foremost o'er the knowe ; Of Davies. conquering, lovely And or I wad anither jad, muse to dream of such a My theme, I'll wallop in a tow. Her feeble pow'rs surrender ; The weary pund, the weary pund, The eagle's gaze alone surveys The weary pund o' tow ! The sun's meridian : splendor I think my wife will end her life, I wad in vain essay the strain, Before she spin her tow. too is The deed daring brave ; I'll drap the lyre, and mute admire The charms o' lovely Davies ! g fi&mz. " Tune. Ye Jacobites by Name." Tune." The Weary Fund o' Tow." I. an an ear YE Jacobites by name, give ear, give ; Ye Jacobites by name give an ear; I. Ye Jacobites by name, the fautes I will THE weary pund, weary pund, Your proclaim ; o' doctrines I blame The weary pund tow ; Your maun I think my wife will end her life. You shall hear. Before she spin her tow. II. I bought my wife a stane o' lint, as e'er did is is the As gude grow ; What Right, and what Wrang, by law, And a' that she has made o' that, by the law? Is ae poor pund o' tow. What is Right, and what is Wrang, by the law? What is Right, and what is Wrang ? II. A short sword, and a lang, There sat a bottle in a bole, A weak arm, and a strang Beyont the ingle lowe, For to draw ? And ay she took the tither souk, To drouk the stourie tow. III. What makes heroic strife, fam'd afar, fam'd afar ? III. What makes heroic strife, fam'd afar 1 heroic strife ? Quoth I, for shame, ye dirty dame, What makes th' assassin's Gae spin your tap o' tow ! To whet knife, She took the rock, and wi' a knock Or hunt a parent's life She brak it o'er my pow. Wi'bludiewar? JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. IV. a $aml ot Then let schemes in the in the your alone, State, in a fiztionl State ; let schemes in the State Tune. "A Parcel of in a Nation." Then your alone, ; Rogues Then let your schemes alone ; Adore the rising sun, And leave a man undone To his fate ! I. FAREWEEL to a' our Scottish fame, Fareweel our ancient glory, Fareweel even to the Scottish name, Sae fam'd in martial story. Now Sark rins o'er the " Solway sands, Tune. Craigton's Growing." And Tweed rins to the ocean, To mark where England's province stands- Such a of in a nation ! I. parcel rogues LADY Mary Ann looks o'er the castle wa', II. three at the ba' She saw bonie boys playing ; force or could not The youngest he was the flower amang them a' : What guile subdue, Thro' warlike My bonie laddie's young, but he's growin yet. many ages, Is wrought now by a coward few, II. For hireling traitors' wages. father ! father ! an think it ye fit, The English steel we could disdain, We'll send him a to the ; year College yet Secure in valour's station ; We'll sew a ribban round about his green hat, But English gold has been our bane And that will let them ken he's to marry yet. Such a parcel of rogues in a nation ! III. III. Lady Mary Ann was a flower i' the dew : its O would, or I had seen the Sweet was its smell, and bonie was hue ; day sell it the sweeter it That treason thus could us, And the langer blossom'd grew ; auld head had lien in clay, For the lily in the bud will be bonier yet. My grey Wi' Bruce and loyal Wallace ! IV. But pith and power, till my last hour, Charlie Cochran was the of an aik : Young sprout I'll mak this declaration ; Bonie and bloomin and was its make ; straught We're bought and sold for English gold The sun took to shine for its sake ; ! delight Such a parcel of rogues in a nation And it will be the brag o' the forest yet. V. The simmer is gane, when the leaves they were green, that we hae seen And the days are awa ; But far better days I trust will come again, For my bonie laddie's young, but he's growin yet. LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS. I the ffiLutt. " Tune. "Auld Lang Syne," or "I feo'd a Lad at Tune. Had I the wyto she bade mo." Michaelmass." I. EEVISED EDITION SEE NOTES.] HAD I the wyte, had I the wyte, Had I the wyte she bade me ? I. She watch'd me by the hie-gate side, SHOULD auld be acquaintance forgot, And up the loan she shaw'd me; And never to mind ? brought And when I wadna venture in, Should auld be acquaintance forgot, A coward loon she ca'd me : And o' ? days lang syne Had kirk and state been in the gate, I when she bade me. [For auld lang syne, my dear, lighted For auld lang syne ; II. We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne !] Sae craftilie she took me ben, bade II. And me mak nae clatter; " For our ramgunshoch glum gudemaii And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp ! Is o'er ayont the water:" And surely I'll be mine ! Whae'er shall say I wanted grace, And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, When I did kiss and dawte her ; For auld lang syne. Let him be planted in my place, III. Syne say I was the fautor. twa hae run about the We braes, III. the fine And pu'd gowans ; Could I for shame, could I for shame, But we've wander'd mony a weary fitt, Could I for shame refus'd her? Sin' auld lang syne. And wadna manhood been to blame, IV. Had I unkindly used her ? He claw'd her wi' the ripplin-kame, We twa hae paidl'd in the burn, And blae and bruis'd her Frae morning sun till dine; bluidy ; When sic a husband was frae hame, But seas between us braid hae roar'd, What wife but wad excus'd her "\ Sin' auld lang syne. V. IV. I her een sae blue, And there's a hand, my trusty fiere, dighted ay And bann'd the cruel ; And gie's a hand o' thine ! randy And weel I wat her willin mou', And we'll tak a right gude willie-waught, Was e'en like succar-candie. For auld lang syne. At gloamin-shote it was, I wat, auld [For lang syne, my dear, I on the For auld lighted Monday ; lang syne ; But I cam thro' the dew, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, Tiseday's For auld Willie's lang syne !] To wanton brandy. JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. Jamie, fribe ot a' the Pain. (Eber Jftair. Tune. "The Carlin o' the Glen." An Ancient Air. I. I. WANTONNESS for ever YOUNG Jamie, pride of a' the plain, mair, Wantonness has been ruin Sae gallant and sae gay a swain; my ; Thro' a' our lasses he did rove, Yet, for a' my dool and care, It's wantonness for ever. And reign' d resistless king of love : I hae lo'ed the the Brown But now, wi' sighs and starting tears, Black, ; briers I hae lo'ed the Fair, the Gowden : He strays amang the woods and ; A' the colours in the Or in the glens and rocky caves town, I hae won their wanton favour. He, sad complaining, dowie raves. II. I, wha sae late did range and rove, And chang'd with every moon my love, I little thought the time was near, Tune. " Latin." Repentance I should buy sae dear : Jacky The slighted maids my torments see, I And laugh at a' the pangs dree ; While she, my cruel, scornfu' Fair, I. her mair ! Forbids me e'er to see GAT ye me, gat ye me, gat ye me wi' naething? Rock and reel, and spinnin wheel, A mickle quarter basin : By attour, my gutcher has the (Dut II. I. haud now, Luckie Laing, OUT over the Forth I look to the North, your tongue haud your tongue and jauner ; But what is the North and its Highlands to me ? 1 held the gate till you I met, The South nor the East gie ease to my breast; Syne I began to wander : The far foreign land, or the wide rolling sea. I tint my whistle and my sang, 1 tint and II. my peace pleasure ; But your green graff, now, Luckie Laing, But I look to the West when I gae to rest, Wad airt me to my treasure. That happy my dreams and my slumbers may be; For far in the West lives he I lo'e best, The man that is dear to my babie and me. 182 LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS. C00p*r 0' II. Time. "Bab at the Bowster." For though his locks be lyart gray, his be beld aboon And though brow ; Yet I hae seen him on a day, I. The pride of a' the parishen. THE Cooper o' Cuddle cam here awa, The cardin o't, the spinnin o't, And ca'd the out owre us a' ; the winnin o't girrs The warpin o't, ; ilka ell cost me a And our gudewife has gotten a ca' When groat, The taylor staw the lynin o't. That anger'd the silly gudeman, 0. We'll hide the Cooper behind the door, Behind the door, behind the door ; We'll hide the Cooper behind the door, And cover him under a mawn, 0. II. ' Til %% in b|) He sought them out, he sought them in, J0t Wi' deil hae her ! and, deil hae him ! " : Tune. I'll gang nae mair to yon Town.' But the body he was sae doited and blin', He wist na whare he was gaun, 0. III. I. They cooper'd at e'en, they cooper'd at morn, I'LL ca' in 'Till our has the ay by yon town, gudeman gotten scorn ; And yon garden green, again ; On ilka brow she's planted a horn, by I'll ay ca' in by yon town, And swears that there they shall stan', 0. And see my bonie Jean again. We'll hide the Cooper behind the door, There's nane sail ken, there's nane sail guess Behind the door, behind the door; What brings me back the gate again, We'll hide the Cooper behind the door, But fairest faithfu' lass; And cover him under a mawn, 0. she, my And stownlins we sail meet again! II. She'll wander by the aiken tree, Carbht 0't. draws near When trystin-time again ; Tune. " Salt Fish and Dumplings." And when her lovely form I see, haith, she's doubly dear again ! I'll ay ca' in by yon town, I. And by yon garden green, again ; I COFT a stane o' haslock woo, I'll ay ca' in by yon town, To mak a wat to Johnie o't ; And see my bonie Jean again ! For Johnie is my only jo, I lo'e him best of onie yet. The cardin o't, the spinnin o't, The the o't warpin o't, winnin ; When ilka ell cost me a groat, The taylor staw the lynin o't. m- JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. Sighing art J&amtoxfe* 0' " " Time. Blue Bonnets." Tune. The Killogie I. I. WHEREFORE sighing art them, Phillis ? BANNOCKS o' bear meal, Has thy prime unheeded past ? Bannocks o' barley; Hast them found that beauty's lilies Here's to the Highlandmaii's Were not made for aye to last ? Bannocks o' barley. Know thy form was once a treasure; Wha in a brulzie Then it was thy hour of scorn : Will first cry a parley ? Since thou then deny'dst the pleasure, Never the lads wi' Now 'tis fit that thou shouldst mourn. The bannocks o' barley. II. Bannocks o' bear meal, Bannocks o' barley; Here's to the Highlandman's Tune. "Blue Bonnets.' Bannocks o' barley. Wha in his wae days Were loyal to Charlie ? but the lads wi' I. Wha The bannocks o' barley ! POWERS celestial ! whose protection Ever guards the virtuous fair, While in distant climes I wander, Let my Mary be your care : Let her form so fair and faultless, as Fair and faultless your own ; Let my Mary's kindred spirit, Tune. "Wae is my heart." Draw your choicest influence down. Make the gales you waft around her, I. Soft and as her breast ; peaceful is and the tear's in e'e WAE my heart, my ; Breathing in the breeze that fans her, Lang, lang, joy's been a stranger to me : Soothe her bosom into rest : Forsaken and friendless, my burden I bear, Guardian ! her, angels protect And the sweet voice o' pity ne'er sounds in my ear. When in distant lands I roam ; To realms unknown while fate exiles me, II. her bosom still Make my home, thou hast and hae I loved Love, pleasures, deep ; Love, thou hast sorrows, and sair hae I proved : But this bruised heart that now bleeds in my breast, I can feel by its throbbings, will soon be at rest. isS^S LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS. III. II. 0, if I were, where happy I hae been, The Taylor rase and sheuk his duds, Down and bonie flaes by yon stream, yon castle-green ; The they flew awa in cluds, For there he is and on And them that fearfu' wand'ring, musing me, stay'd gat thuds ; Wha wad soon dry the tear frae his PhilhYs e'e. The Taylor prov'd a man, 0. CHOEUS. For now it was the gloamin, The the gloamin, gloamin ; For now it was the gloamin, ; hi* 3ealth in $ When a' to rest are gaun, 0. " Tune. The Job of Journey-work.' ALTHO' my back be at the wa', And tho' he be the fautor ; Altho' my back be at the wa', Tune. " For laik of Gold." Yet, here's his health in water. wae gae by his wanton sides, Sae brawlie's he could flatter ; I. Till for his sake I'm slighted sair, And dree the kintra clatter : THERE grows a bonie brier bush in our kail-yard, But tho' my back be at the wa', There grows a bonie brier bush in our kail-yard; Yet here's his health in water ! 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, Tune. "The Drummer." 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, I. Whare the trees and the branches will be our safe FOR weel he kend the way, 0, guard. the The way 0, way ; III. For weel he kend the way, 0, Will to the dancin in The lassie's heart to win, ! ye go Carlyle's ha', Will to the dancin in ha' The Taylor he cam here to sew, ye go Carlyle's ; weel he kend the to Where and I'm sure will them a' 1 And way woo ; Sandy Nancy ding I to the ha'. For ay he pree'd the lassie's mou, winna gang dance in Carlyle As he gaed but and ben, 0. IV. CHOEUS. What will I do for a lad, when Sandy gangs awa ? For weel he kend the' way, O, What will I do for a lad, when awa ? the Sandy gangs The way O, way ; I will awa to and win a For weel he kend the way, O, Edinburgh pennie fee, The lassie's heart to win, 0. And see an onie bonie lad will fancy me. JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. V. V. He's comin frae the North that's to fancy me, When day is gane, and night is come, that's to a' folk boun to He's comin frae the North fancy me ; And sleep ; at his I A feather in his bonnet and a ribbon knee ; think on him that's far awa, He's a borne, bonie laddie, and yon be he. The lee-lang night, and weep, My dear; The lee-lang night, and weep ! Jar.eto.eLL Tune. "It was a' for our rightfu' King." lament. lighlanb./ *j t. A Gaelic Air. I. IT was a' for our rightfu' king, I. We left fair Scotland's strand ; OH ! I am come to the low countrie, It was a' for our rightfu' king, och-rie! We e'er saw Irish land, Och-on, och-on, Without a in My dear; penny my purse a meal to me. We e'er saw Irish land. To buy II. II. It was na sae in the Now a' is done that men can do, Highland hills, och-on, och-rie ! And a' is done in vain : Och-on, Nae woman in the wide My love and native land fareweel, country Sae was as me. For I maun cross the main, happy My dear; For I maun cross the main. III. For then I had a score o' kye, III. Och-on, och-on, och-rie ! He turn'd him right and round about, Feeding on yon hill sae high, the Irish shore milk to Upon ; And giving me. And gae his bridle-reins a shake, IV. With, Adieu for evermore, My dear; And there I had three score o' yowes, With, Adieu for evermore ! Och-on, och-on, och-rie! Skipping on yon bonie knowes, IV. And casting woo' to me. The sodger frae the wars returns, V. The sailor frae the main ; But I hae parted frae my love, I was the happiest of a' the clan, I Never to meet again, Sair, sair, may repine ; My dear; For Donald was the brawest man, Never to meet again ! And Donald he was mine. 2 i LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS. VI. III. Till Charlie Stewart cam at last, A bonnie lass, I will confess, far to set us free Is to the e'e Sae ; pleasant ; My Donald's arm was wanted then, But, without some better qualities, For Scotland and for me. She's no a lass for me. VII. IV. Their waefu' fate what need I tell, But Nelly's looks are blythe and sweet, to the did : Right wrang yield And what is best of a', My Donald and his Country fell, Her reputation is compleat, Upon Culloden field. And fair without a flaw. VIII. V. Och-on, O Donald, Oh ! She dresses ay sae clean and neat, och-rie ! Och-on, och-on, Both decent and genteel ; Nae woman in the warld wide And then there's something in her gait Sae wretched now as me ! Gars ony dress look weel. VI. A gaudy dress and gentle air touch the heart May slightly ; fizll But it's innocence and modesty Tune. " I am a man unmarried. That polishes the dart. VII. I. 'Tis this in Nelly pleases me, ONCE I lov'd a bonnie lass, 'Tis this enchants soul my ; An' I love her still aye ; For absolutely in my breast An' whilst that virtue warms breast, my She reigns Avithout controul. I'll love my handsome Nell. II. As bonnie lasses I hae seen, full as braw And mony ; But, for a modest gracefu' mien, The like I never saw. SONGS: FROM JOHJSTSON'S SCOTS MUSICAL MUSEUM: BEING FRAGMENTS, REVISIONS, &c. [ACKNOWLEDGED BY, OE ASCEIBED TO, BUBNS.] " " Tune. Jumpin John." Tune. Up wi' the Ploughman." I. I. her minnie forbad THE he's a bonie [HER daddie forbad, ; ploughman lad, be His mind is ever Forbidden she wadna :] true, jo ; She wadna trow't, the browst she brew'd His garters knit below his knee, Wad taste sae bitterlie. His bonnet it is blue, jo. lad ca' John Then wi't lad [The lang they Jumpin up a', my ploughman ; the bonie lassie And ! Beguil'd ; hey, my merry ploughman The lang lad they ca' Jumpin John Of a' the trades that I do ken, Beguil'd the bonie lassie.] Commend me to the ploughman. II. II. A cow and a cauf, a yowe and a hauf, [My ploughman he comes hame at e'en, shillins and three He's aften wat and And thretty gude ; weary ; A vera gude tocher, a cotter-man's dochter, Cast aif the wat, put on the dry, The lass wi' the bonie black e'e. And gae to bed, my dearie ! lad ca' John [The lang they Jumpin III. Beguil'd the bonie lassie; The lang lad they ca' Jumpin John I will wash my ploughman's hose, bonie Beguil'd the lassie.] And I will dress his o'erlay ; I will niak my ploughman's bed, And chear him late and early.] 8 188 LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS. IV. III. I hae been east, I hae been west, [Weel may we a' be ! I hae been at Saint Johnston; Ill may we never see ! The boniest sight that e'er I saw God bless the king, Was the ploughman laddie dancin. And the companie!] Hey tutti, taiti, V. How tutti, taiti, taiti Snaw-white stockins on his legs, Hey tutti, Wha's fou now ? And siller buckles glancin ; A gude blue bannet on his head And 0, but he was handsome ! Then wi't lad up a', my ploughman ; And hey, my merry ploughman ! flaiilitt, Of a' the trades that I do ken, Tune. "Eattlin, Roarin Willie." Commend me to the ploughman. I. [0 RATTLIN, roarin Willie, he held to the fair, A' for to sell his fiddle, , Count the And buy some other ware ; But parting wi' his fiddle, Tune."TLej Tutti, Taiti." The saut tear blin't his e'e : And rattlin, roarin Willie, Ye're welcome hame to me ! I. II. LANDLADY, count the lawin, Willie, come sell your fiddle, sell fine The is near the dawin fiddle sae ; day ; your come sell Ye're a' blind drunk, boys, Willie, your fiddle, And a o' wine ! And I'm but jolly fou. buy pint If I should sell my fiddle, Hey tutti, taiti, The warl' would think I was mad ; How tutti, taiti, For a rantin Hey tutti, taiti mony day Wha's fou ? now My fiddle and I hae had.] II. III. As I cam Cog, an ye were ay fou; by Crochallan, 1 keekit ben an were fou cannily ; Cog, ye ay ; roarin Willie I wad sit and sing to you, Rattlin, Was at boord en' If ye were ay fou. sitting yon ; Sitting at yon boord en', Hey tutti, taiti, And amang guid companie : How tutti, taiti, Rattlin, roarin Hey tutti, taiti Willie, Wha's fou now ? Ye're welcome hame to me! m& JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. n III. me the " [Gie groat again, canny young man ; Tune. I Love my Love in Secret." Gie the me groat again, canny young man ; The day it is short, and the night it is lang, I The dearest siller that ever wan !] I. IV. MY Sandy gied to me a ring, a' beset wi' fine There's wi' her lane ; Was diamonds ; somebody weary lying But I gied him a far better thing, There's somebody weary wi' lying her lane; There's that are I be fain I gied my heart in pledge o' his ring. some dowie, trow wad To see the bit Taylor come skippin again. My Sandy O, my Sandy 0, bonie My bonie, Sandy O ; Tho' the love that I owe to thee I dare na show, Yet I love my love in secret, my Sandy 0. II. Sandy brak a piece o' gowd, My Tune."A.y Waukin, 0!" 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. I. My Sandy 0, my Sandy 0, SIMMER'S a pleasant time, bonie My bonie, Sandy ; Flow'rs of ev'ry colour; Tho' the love that I owe to thee I dare na show, The water rins o'er the heugh, Yet I love my love in secret, my Sandy 0. And I long for my true lover ! Ay waukin, 0, Waukin still and weary : Sleep I can get nane, For thinkin on my dearie. r' the II. Tune. "The Taylor fell thro' the bed, thimble an' a'." When I sleep I dream, When I wauk I'm eerie ; Sleep I can get nane, For thinkin on dearie. I. my fell thro' the thimble an' a' [THE Taylor bed, ; III. fell thro' thimble an' a' The Taylor, the bed, ; Lanely night comes on, The blankets were thin, and the sheets they were A' the lave are sleepin; sma', I think on my bonie lad, thimble an' The Taylor fell thro' the bed, a'.] And I blear my een wi' greetin. II. Ay waukin, O, Waukin still and weary : she dreaded nae ill The sleepy bit lassie, ; Sleep I can get nane, bit she dreaded nae ill The sleepy lassie, ; For thinkin on my dearie. The weather was cauld, and the lassie lay still, She thought that a Taylor could do her nae ill. =?sa$ LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS. II. Our ancient crown's fa'n in the dust Tune. " Mount and Go." ; Deil blin' them wi' the stoure o't, And write their names in his black beuk, Wha gae the Whigs the power o't! CHOEUS. III. O mount and go, and Mount make you ready ; [Our sad decay in Church and State O mount and go, And be the Captain's Lady. Surpasses my descriving ; The Whigs cam o'er us for a curse, I. And we hae done wi' thriving.] WHEN the drums do beat, IV. And the cannons rattle, has ta'en Thou shalt sit in state, Grim Vengeance lang a nap, But we see him wauken And see thy love in battle. may ; Gude help the day when royal heads II. Are hunted like a maukin ! When the vanquish'd foe [Awa Whigs, awa ! for and Sues peace quiet, Awa Whigs, awa I Ye're but a o' traitor To the shades we'll go, pack louns, Ye'll do nae gude at a'.] And in love enjoy it. mount and go, Mount and make you ready : O mount and go, And be the ' Captain's Lady. tht " Tune. Ca' the Ewes to the Knowes." CHOEUS. (Dot Jtelt mib Jair. [Ca' the ewes to the knowes, Ca' them whare the heather grows, Tune. "Awa Awa." Whigs, Ca' them whare the burnie rowes, My bonie dearie !] I. CHOEUS. As I gaed down the water-side, awa ! [Awa Whigs, There I met my shepherd lad; Awa Whigs, awa ! He row'd me sweetly in his plaid, Ye're but a pack o' traitor louns, An' he ca'd me his dearie. Ye' 11 do nae gude at a'.] I. II. the [OuR thrissles flourish'd fresh and fair, Will ye gang down water-side, see the waves sae And bonie bloom'd our roses ; And sweetly glide But Whigs cam like a frost in June, Beneath the hazels spreading wide ? And wither'd a' our posies.] The moon it shines fu' clearly. if JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. 191 III. II. I was bred up at nae sic school, Brightest climes shall mirk appear, to the Desart ilka shore My shepherd lad, play fool, blooming ; And a' the day to sit in dool, Till the Fates, nae mair severe, And naebody to see me. Friendship, love, and peace restore : Till Revenge, wi' laurell'd head, IV. Bring our Banish' d hame again : Ye sail get gowns and ribbons meet, And ilka loyal, bonie lad Cauf-leather shoon upon your feet, Cross the seas and win his ain. And in my arms ye'se lie and sleep, And ye sail be my dearie. V. If ye'll but stand to what ye've said, I'se gang wi' you, my shepherd lad ; tomz And ye may rowe me in your plaid, John, 1U00 Mt And I sail be dearie. your " Tune. John, come kiss me now." VI. While waters wimple to the sea; in the lift While day blinks sae hie; I. Till clay-cauld death sail blin' my e'e, JOHN, come kiss me now, now, now; Ye sail be dearie ! my come kiss me now John, my luve, ; [Ca' the ewes to the knowes, John, come kiss me by-and-by, Ca' them whare the heather grows, For weel ye ken the way to woo. Ca' them whare the burnie rowes, some will court and compliment, My bonie dearie ! ] And ither some will kiss and daut ; But I will mak o' my gudeman, ain it is nae faute. My gudeman ; II. Jrae the Jrienb* attb ICattb I some will court and compliment, " Air. Carron Side." And ither some will prie their mou, And some will hause in ither's arms ; And that's the way I like to do. I. John, come kiss me now, now, now; John, luve, come kiss me now; FRAE the friends and land I love my John, come kiss me by-and-by, Driv'n by fortune's felly spite, For weel ye ken the way to woo. 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. LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS. Jft0rn, " Tune. Cock up your Beaver." To a Highland Air. I. I. WHEN first my brave Johnie lad came to this town, THE tither morn, He had a blue bonnet that wanted the crown ; When I forlorn But now he has gotten a hat and a feather, Aneath an aik sat moaning, Hey, brave Johnie lad, cock up your beaver ! I did na trow I'd see my Jo, II. Beside me 'gain the gloaming. Cock up your beaver, and cock it fu' sprush; But he sae trig We'll over the border and gie them a brush : Lap o'er the rig, there we'll teach better behaviour : And did chear me There's somebody dawtingly ; Hey, brave Johnie lad, cock up your beaver ! When I, whatreck, Did least expect To see my lad sae near me. II. I bo art Jdr. His bonnet he A-thought ajee Tune." The Cuckoo.' Cock'd sprush, when first he clasp'd me; And I, I wat, Wi' fainness grat, I DO confess thou art sae fair, While in his grips he press'd me. in I wad been o'er the lugs luve ; Deil tak the war! Had I na found the slightest prayer, I late and air That lips could speak, thy heart could muve. since Hae wish'd, Jock departed ; I do confess thee sweet, but find But now as glad Thou art sae thriftless o' thy sweets, I'm wi' my lad, Thy favors are the silly wind As shortsyne broken-hearted. That kisses ilka thing it meets. III. II. Fu' aft at e'en, See yonder rose-bud, rich in dew, Wi' dancing keen Amang its native briers sae coy, When a' were blythe and merry, it tines its scent and hue How sune I car'd na by, When pu'd and worn, a common toy ! Sae sad was I Sic fate ere shall thee betide lang ; In absence o' my dearie. a Tho' thou may gayly bloom while, But, Praise be blest, Yet sune thou shalt be thrown aside, My mind's at rest, Like common weed and vile. ony I'm happy wi' my Johnny : At kirk arid fair, I'se ay be there, And be as canty's ony. JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. 193 I toas a And was na Cockpen right witha', " " saucy Tune.- My dear did deceive me : A Gaelic Air. And was na Cockpen right saucy witha', In leaving the dochter of a lord, And kissin a Collier lassie an' a' ? I. III. As I was a wand'ring ae midsummer e'enin, never look at a' down, my lassie, ; The pipers and youngsters were makin their game : never look at a' down, my lassie, ; Amang them I spyed my faithless fause luver, Thy lips are as sweet and thy figure compleat, Which bled a' the wounds o' my dolour again. As the finest dame in castle or ha'. since left wi' him Weel, he has me, may pleasure gae ; I be but I winna : may distress'd, complain IV. I'll natter I anither my fancy may get ; Tho' thou has nae silk and holland sae sma', My heart it shall never be broken for ane. Tho' thou has nae silk and holland sae sma', coat and sark are ain II. Thy thy thy handywark; And Lady Jean was never sae braw. I till for could na get sleepin dawin, greetin ; The tears trickl'd down like the hail and the rain : Had I na got greetin, my heart wad 'a broken, For oh, luve forsaken's a tormenting pain ! Weel, since he has left me, &c. 'js )n attb Jttoa. III. Tune. ' ' Kenmuro's on and awa, Willie. Although he has left me for greed o' the siller, I him the can win dinna envy gains he ; I a' lade o' rather wad bear the my sorrow, I. Than ever hae acted sae faithless to him. KENMURE'S on and awa, Willie ! Weel, since he has left me, &c. Kenmure's on and awa ! And Kenmure's lord 's the bravest lord That ever Galloway saw. Success to Kenmure's band, Willie ! Success to Kenmure's band ; There's no a heart that fears a Whig, That rides Kenmure's hand. Sh* cam nt Sh* $0bbeb. by " II. Tune. Laird o' Cockpen." 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, I. Nor yet o' Gordon's line. fu' ! WHEN she cam ben she bobbed law ; Kenmure's lads are men, Willie fu' when she cam ben she bobbed law; Kenmure's lads are men ; And when she cam ben she kiss'd Cockpen, Their hearts and swords are metal true, And syne deny'd she did it at a'. And that their faes shall ken. 2 K LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS. in. V. or die wi' Willie ! I can win five in a They'll live, fame, my pennies day ; or wi' at fu' brawlie : They'll live, die fame ; And spen't night But soon wi' sounding victorie, And mak my bed in the Collier's neuk, May Kemnure's lord come hame. And lie down wi' my Collier laddie. Here's him that's far awa, Willie I And mak my bed, &c. Here's him that's far awa ; VI. And here's the flower that I lo'e best The rose that's like the snaw ! 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. And the warld before me, &c. v tollur fabbic. Tune. "The Collier Laddie." I. A BaUad. WHARE live ye, my bonie lass, And tell me what they ca' ye ? My name, she says, is Mistress Jean, And I follow the Collier laddie. I. My name, she says, &c. A NOBLEMAN liv'd in a village of late, Hard by a poor Thresher whose toil it was great, II. Who had many children and most of them small, See you not yon hills and dales And nought but his labour to keep them up all. The sun shines on sae brawlie! II. They a' are mine and they shall be thine, Gin ye'll leave your Collier laddie. This poor man was seen to go early to work, a' are &c. was for to idle or lurk They mine, He never known ; With his flail on his back and his bottle of beer, III. As happy as those that have thousands a year. Ye shall gang in gay attire, Weel buskit sae III. up gaudy ; And ane to wait on In he toil'd thro' the heat every hand, summer faint, sultry ; Gin ye'll leave your Collier laddie. Alike in the winter, the cold, and the weet : And ane to wait, &c. So blythe and so merry he'd whistle and sing, As canty as ever a bird in the Spring. IV. IV. Tho' ye had a' the sun shines on, And the earth conceals sae this his lowly ; One evening Nobleman, taking walk, I wad turn back on it meet the Thresher and did talk my you and a', Did poor freely ; And embrace my Collier laddie. And many a question he asked him at large, I wad turn my back, &c. And still his discourse was concerning his charge. JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. V. XIII. You have many children I very well know, Early next morning the goodwife arose, Your labour is hard and your wages are low, And dressed them all in the best of their clothes : are chearful I tell me how There was and his his And yet you ; pray he, wife, and seven children That you do maintain them so well as you do. small, They all went to dine at the Nobleman's hall. VI. I moil, and I toil, and I harrow and plough, XIV. sometimes a I The dinner And hedging and ditching go ; being ended, he then let them know, for I shear I What he intended on them to No work comes me wrong, and mow; bestow ; And thus earn my bread by the sweat of my brow. A farm of full forty good acres of land, He gave him the rights of it all in his hand. VII. My wife she is willing to draw in the yoke, XV. live like Because thou art kind to We two lambs and we seldom provoke ; loving and thy wife, I'll life Each one loves the other; we join with the ant, make thy days easy the rest of thy ; And do our endeavour to keep us from want. I give it for ever to thee and thy heirs, So hold thy industry with diligent cares. VIII. I I I labour all XVI. moil, and toil, and day ; At night I do bring my full wages away : No tongue then was able their joy to express, tho' it be live Their tokens of their true What possible we do poor, love, and thankfulness ; We still keep the ravening wolf from the door. And many a low humble bow to the ground: But such Noblemen there's but few to be found. IX. And when I come home from my labour at night, To wife children in whom I my and delight ; To see them come round me with prattling noise, fattuttt. 0, these are the pleasures the poor man enjoys ! An African Melody. X. Tho' I am as weary as weary can be, The does dance on knee I. youngest ay chiefly my ; IT was in sweet that foes did me I find that contentment's an absolute feast, Senegal my enthral, For the lands of : And I never repine at my lot in the least. Virginia-ginia, Torn from that lovely shore, and must never see it XI. more, The Nobleman, hearing him what he did say, And, alas ! I am weary, weary, ! Invited him home to dine with him next Torn that day ; from lovely shore, &c. His wife and his children he charg'd him to bring, II. And in token of favour he gave him a ring. All on that charming coast is no bitter snow and frost, XII. Like the lands of Virginia-ginia, ; He thanked his lordship, and, taking his leave, There streams for ever flow, and there flowers for Went home to his wife, who scarce could believe, ever blow, the himself he did raise alas ! I 1 Thinking story ; And, am weary, weary, But seeing the ring, then she stood in amaze. There streams for ever flow, &c. 196 LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS. III. (D gin ge torn Ikab, (iubsmatt. burden I the cruel I The must bear, while scourge fear, " Tune. I wish that ye were dead, gudeman." In the lands of Virginia-gin ia, ; And I think on friends most dear, with the bitter, bitter tear, FIEST CHOEUS. And, alas I I am weary, weary, 1 an ye were dead, gudeman ! And I think on friends most dear, &c. A green turf on your head, gudeman ; 1 wad bestow my widowhood Upon a rantan Highlandman. I. There's sax eggs in the pan, gudeman, (Earls erf Dpsart. in There's sax eggs the pan, gudeman ; There's ane to and twa to Tune. "Hey ca' thro'." you, me, And three to our John Highlandman. II. I. A sheep-head's in the pot, gudeman, wi' the o' UP carls Dysart, in the A sheep-head's pot, gudeman ; And the lads o' Buckhaven, The flesh to him, the broo to me, And the kimmers o' Largo, An' the horns become your brow, gudeman. And the lasses o' Leven. LAST CHOEUS. Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro', Syne round about the fire wi' a rung she ran, For we hae mickle ado ; An' round about the fire wi' a rung she ran : Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro', Your horns shall tie to the For we hae mickle ado. you staw, And I shall bang your hide, gudeman. II. We hae tales to tell, And we hae sangs to sing; We hae pennies to spend, And we hae pints to bring. Mm. Tune." The Carl he cam o'er the Craft." III. We'll live a' our days ; And them that comes behin', I. Let them do the like, THE auld man he cam over the lea, And the gear win. spend they I'll Ha, ha, ha, but no hae him ; Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro', He cam on purpose for to court me, For we hao mickle ado ; Wi' his auld beard newlin shaven. Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro', For we hae mickle ado. II. My mither she bade me gie him a stool, I'll Ha, ha, ha, but no hae him ; I gae him a stool, and he look'd like a fool, Wi' his auld beard newlin shaven. JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. III. III. My mither she bade me gie him some pye, But, my dear and lovely Katie, Ha, ha, ha, but I'll no hae him; This ae thing I hae to tell I gae him some pye, and he laid the crust by, I could wish nae man to get ye, Wi' his auld beard newlin shaven. Save it were my very sel. Tak at offer me, Katie, my ; IV. Or be-had, and I'll tak you : mither she bade me him a We'se nae din about tocher My gie dram, mak your ; Ha, ha, ha, but I'll no hae him; Marry, Katie, then we'll woo. I gae him a dram o' the brand sae strang, Wi' his auld beard newlin shaven. IV. Mony words are needless, Katie : V. I Ye're a wanter, sae am ; My mither she bade me put him to bed, If ye wad a man should get ye, Ha, ha, ha, but I'll no hae him; Then I can that want supply. I put him to bed, and he swore he wad wed, Say then, Katie, say ye'll take me, Wi' his auld beard newlin shaven. As the very wale o' men, Never after to forsake me ; And the Priest shall say, Amen. V. * 60 attb Jfourrg, Then, 1 then, my charming Katie, When we're married, what comes then ? Tune. "Will ye go and marry, Katie?" Then nae ither man can get ye, But ye'll be my very ain : Then we'll kiss and clap at pleasure, I. be Nor wi' envy troubled ; WELL ye go and marry, Katie ? If ance I had my lovely treasure, Can ye think to tak a man ? Let the rest admire and die. It's a pity ane sae pretty Should na do the thing they can. You, a charming, lovely creature, Wharefore wad ye lie yer lane ? l&ttziz of a nature Beauty's fading ; " Has a season, and is gane. Tune. Leezie Lindsay." II. Therefore, while ye're blooming, Katie, I. Listen to a swain loving ; WILL ye go to the Highlands, Leezie Lindsay, Tak a mark by auntie Betty, the wi' Will ye go to Highlands me ; Ance the o' the men : darling Will ye go to the Highlands, Leezie Lindsay, wi' and fickle nature, She, coy My pride and my darling to be ? aff till she's Trifled grown auld ; [LEFT UNFINISHED.] she's left ilka creature Now by ; Let na this o' thee be tauld. 198 LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS I .canu 0^r tlu Cairtug Mount. II. Trumpets sound and cannons roar, " Tune. Highland Lassie." Bonie lassie, Lawland lassie ; And a' the hills wi' echoes roar, Bonie Lawland lassie. Glory, Honour, now invite, Bonie lassie, Lawland lassie; [As I came o'er the Cairney mount, For freedom and my King to fight, And down amang the blooming heather, Bonie Lawland lassie. Kindly stood the milking-shiel, To shelter frae the stormy weather.] III. bonie my Highland lad, The sun a backward course shall take, weel-far'd laddie My winsome, Highland ; Bonie laddie, Highland laddie, Wha wad mind the wind and rain, Ere ought thy manly courage shake ; Sae weel rowed in his tartan ! plaidie Bonie Highland laddie. Go, for yoursel procure renown, II. Bonie laddie laddie, Highland ; Now Phoebus blinkit on the bent, And for your lawful king his crown, And o'er the knowes the lambs were bleating: Bonie Highland laddie ! But he wan my heart's consent, To be his ain at the niest meeting. my bonie Highland lad, weel-far'd laddie My winsome, Highland ; Wha wad mind the wind and rain, A Gaelic Air. Sae weel rowed in his tartan plaidie I [TRANSLATION BY BURNS.] I. HEE sweet wee 3iahlanb fabbw. balou, my Donald, Picture o' the great Clanronald; " Tune. Highland Lad and Lawland Lassie." Brawlie kens our wanton Chief, Wha got my young Highland thief. [COMPILATION BY BURNS.] II. Leeze me on thy bonie craigie! An thou thou'll steal a live, naigie ; I. Travel the country thro' and thro', THE boniest lad that e'er I saw, And bring hame a Carlisle cow. Bonie laddie, Highland laddie ; III. Wore a plaid and was fu' braw, Thro' the Lawlands, o'er the Bon-ie Highland laddie. Border, Weel, babie, thou furder : On his head a bonnet blue, my may Bonie Herry the louns o' the laigh Countrie, laddie, Highland laddie ; Syne to the Highlands hame to me. His royal heart was firm and true, Bonie Highland laddie. JOHNSON'S MUSEUM.] OF ROBERT BURNS. IV. How's a' wi' you, Kimmer, Nursery Khyme. do thrive And how ye ; How mony bairns hae ye ? Quo' Kimmer, I hae five. I. We're a' noddin, &c. his leather wallet WEE Willie Gray, an' ; Peel a willie-wand, to be him boots and jacket : V. The rose the brier will be him trouse an' doublet, upon Are they a' Johny's ? The rose upon the brier will be him trouse an' doublet. Eh! atweel no: Twa o' them were gotten II. When Johny was awa. Wee Willie an' his leather wallet ; Gray, We're a' noddin, &c. Twice a lily-flower will be him sark and cravat : Feathers of a flee wad feather up his bonnet, VI. Feathers of a flee wad feather his bonnet. up Cats like milk, And dogs like broo ; Lads like lasses weel, And lasses lads too. We're a' to p0w, jUmmer. noddin, &c. Tune.' 1 We're a' Noddin." Shut* in I. " Tune. Kobin Sheared in Herst." GUDE'EN to you, Kimmer, And how do ye do ? Hiccup, quo' Kimmer, I. The better that I'm fou. ROBIN shure in We're a' noddin, nid nid noddin ; hairst, We're a' noddin, at our house at hame. I shure wi' him; Fient a heuk had I, II. Yet I stack by him. Kate sits i' the neuk, hen broo II. Suppin ; Deil tak Kate, I gaed up to Dunse, a o' An she be na noddin too ! To warp wab plaiden ; We're a' noddin, &c. At his daddie's yett, Wha met me but Robin ? III. III. How's a' wi' you, Kimmer, And how do ye fare ? Was na Robin bauld, Tho' I was a A pint o' the best o't, cotter; sic a And twa pints mair. Play'd me trick, We're a' noddin, &c. And me the filler's dochter ? 200 LIFE AND WORKS [POETICAL WORKS. V. (D that I hab nt'tx butt Robin promis'd me " " Tune. Crowdie : an Ancient Air. A' winter vittle my ; Fient haet he had but three Goos-feathers and a whittle ! [0 THAT I had ne'er been married, I wad never had nae care ; Now I've gotten wife and bairns, Stoutest An' they cry crowdie ever mair.] Tune. "Sweetest May." Ance crowdie, twice crowdie, Three times crowdie in a day ; Gin ye crowdie ony mair, I. Ye'll crowdie a' my meal away. SWEETEST let love May, inspire thee ; II. Take a heart which he thee designs ; As constant slave it Waefu' Want and thy regard ; Hunger fley me, the hallan en' For its faith and truth reward it. Glowrin by ; Sair I fecht them at the door, II. I'm eerie But ay they come ben ! Proof o' shot to Birth or Money ; Ance crowdie, twice crowdie, Not the wealthy but the bonie, Three times crowdie in a day ; Not but noble-minded, high-born Gin ye crowdie ony mair, In Love's silken band can bind it. Ye'll crowdie a' my meal away. SINGLE VEESES ADDED BY BUENS TO OLD SONGS. Carl, an tht 0me. J0tt attb Jemtg Jain. AN Somebodie were come LET loove in her e'e again, sparkle ; Then Somebodie maun cross the main, Let her lo'e nae man but me : And man shall hae his ain That's the tocher I every ; gude prize ; an ! Carl, the King come There the Luver's treasure lies ! 8