My father urgit sair: my mother didna speak; But she look'd in my face till my heart was like to break ; They gi'ed him my hand, but my heart was at the sea; Sae auld Robin Gray he was gudeman to me. I hadna been a wife a week but only four, When mournfu' as I sat on the stane at the door, O sair, sair did we greet, and muckle did we say; I gang like a ghaist, and I carena to spin; D CLIII Lady A. Lindsay DUNCAN GRAY UNCAN Gray cam here to woo, Ha, ha, the wooing o't, On blythe Yule night when we were fou, Ha, ha, the wooing o't: Maggie coost her head fu' high, Duncan fleech'd, and Duncan pray'd; Duncan sigh'd baith out and in, Time and chance are but a tide, She may gae to - France for me! How it comes let doctors tell, Meg grew sick- -as he grew heal Something in her bosom wrings, ; And O, her een, they spak sic things! Duncan was a lad o' grace; Maggie's was a piteous case; Duncan could na be her death, Swelling pity smoor'd his wrath; A CLIV R. Burns THE SAILOR'S WIFE ND are ye sure the news is true? Is this a time to think o' wark? Ye jades, lay by your wheel; Is this the time to spin a thread, When Colin 's at the door? Reach down my cloak, I'll to the quay, And see him come ashore. For there's nae luck about the house, There's nae luck at a'; There's little pleasure in the house And gie to me my bigonet, For I maun tell the baillie's wife Rise, lass, and mak a clean fireside, Gie little Kate her button gown And Jock his Sunday coat; And mak their shoon as black as slaes, Its a' to please my ain gudeman, There's twa fat hens upo' the coop And spread the table neat and clean, Gar ilka thing look braw, For wha can tell how Colin fared When he was far awa? Sae true his heart, sae smooth his speech, His breath like caller air; His very foot has music in 't As he comes up the stair — If Colin's weel, and weel content, For there's nae luck about the house, There's little pleasure in the house When our gudeman 's awa'. CLV W. J. Mickle JEAN Fa' the airts the wind can blaw OF I For there the bonnie lassie lives, The lassie I lo'e best : There wild woods grow, and rivers row, And mony a hill between ; But day and night my fancy's flight I see her in the dewy flowers, I see her sweet and fair : I hear her in the tunefu' birds, I hear her charm the air: There's not a bonnie flower that springs O blaw ye westlin winds, blaw saft That's aye sae neat and clean; What sighs and vows amang the knowes Hae pass'd atween us twa! How fond to meet, how wae to part That night she gaed awa! The Powers aboon can only ken To whom the heart is seen, That nane can be sae dear to me As my sweet lovely Jean! R. Burns J CLVI JOHN ANDERSON OHN Anderson my jo, John, When we were first acquent Your locks were like the raven, Your bonnie brow was brent; |