I see a form, I see a face, Ye weel may wi' the fairest place: She's bonnie, blooming, straight, and tall, The kind love that's in her ee. It may escape the courtly sparks, The wretch whase doom is, "hope nae mair," Oh Bannie was non Rosy Brier. That blooms so far frae haunt o' man; How pure amang the leaves sae green; They witnessed in their shade yestreen. All in its rude and prickly bower, That crimson rose, how sweet and fair; Now Spring has Clad the Groue in Green. But love is far a sweeter flower (377) Now spring has clad the grove in green, Oh why thus all alone are mine The trout within yon wimpling burn My life was auce that careless stream, But love, wi' unrelenting beam, Has scorch'd my fountains dry. Was mine; till love has o'er me past, As little reck'd I sorrow's power, O' witching love, in luckless hour, Oh, had my fate been Greenland snows, 'Wi' man and nature leagu'd my foes, Amid life's thorny path o' care. The pathless wild and wimpling burn, Forlorn my Loue, no Comfort near. TUNE-Let me in this ane Night. CHORUS. Oh wert thou, love, but near me; And mingle sighs with mine, love. Save in those arms of thine, love. Can on thy Chloris shine, love. Ben for a Lass wi' a Cacher. TUNE-Balinamona ora. Awa wi' your witchcraft o' beauty's alarms, The slender bit beauty you grasp in your arms. Oh, gie me the lass that has acres o' charms, Oh, gie me the lass wi' the weel-stockit farms. CHORUS. Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher, then hey for a lass wi' a tocher, Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher-the nice yellow guineas for me. Your beauty's a flower, in the morning that blows, And withers the faster, the faster it grows : But the rapturous charm o' the bonnie green knowes, [yowes. Ilk spring they're new deckit wi bonnie white And e'en when this beauty your bosom has blest, [possest; The brightest o' beauty may cloy when But the sweet yellow darlings wi' Geordie imprest, [carest. The langer ye hae them, the mair they're Last May a Braw Woorr. TUNE-The Lothian Lassie. LAST May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen, And sair wi' his love he did deave me; I said there was naething I hated like menThe deuce gae wi'n to believe me, believe me, The deuce gae wi'm to believe me. een, IIe spak o' the darts o' my bonnie black A well-stocked mailen, himsel for the laird, But thought I might hae waur offers. But what wad ye think ?-in a fortnight or less, The deil tak his taste to gae near her! He up the lang loan to my black cousin Bess (378), [could bear her, Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her, Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her. But a' the niest week as I fretted wi’ care, But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink, My wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink, And vow'd I was his dear lassie, dear lassie, And vow'd I was his dear lassie. I spier'd for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet, Gin she had recovered her hearin', And how her new shoon fit her auld shachl't feet, [a-swearin', But, heavens! how he fell a-swearin', But, heavens! how he fell a-swearin'. He begged, for guidsake, I wad be his wife, Or else I wad kill him wi, sorrow: So e'en to preserve the poor body in life, I think I maun wed him to-morrow, tomorrow, I think I maun wed him to-morrow. Fragment. TUNE-The Caledonian Hunt's Delight. WHY, why tell thy lover, Bliss he never must enjoy? Why, why undeceive him, And give all his hopes the lie? Oh why, while fancy, raptur'd, slumbers, Wake thy lover from his dream? Irssy. (379) CHORUS. Here's a health to ane I loe dear ! [meet, Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lover's And soft as their parting tear--Jessy! Altho' thou maun never be mine, 'Tis sweeter for thee despairing, Then aught in the world beside-Jessy! I mourn thro' the gay, gaudy day, 244 BURNS'S POETICAL WORKS. I guess by the dear angel smile, Fairest Maid on Devon Banks. TUNE-Rothiemurche. CHORUS. FAIREST maid on Devon banks, And smile as thou were wont to do. Nor use a faithfu' lover so!" Then come, thou fairest of the fair, Those wonted smiles, oh let me share! And, by thy beauteous self I swear, No love but thine my heart shall know. Bandsome Hell. (380) OH once I lov'd a bonnie lass, Ay, and I love her still ; And whilst that honour warms my breast, I'll love my handsome Nell. As bonnie lasses I hae seen, And mony full as braw; But for a modest gracefu' mien, A bonnie lass, I will confess, But without some better qualities, She's no the lass for me. But Nelly's looks are blythe and sweet, Her reputation is complete, And fair without a flaw. She dresses aye sae clean and neat, Both decent and genteel: And then there's something in her gait A gaudy dress and gentle air "Tis this in Nelly pleases me, She reigns without control. My Father was a Farmer. (381) TUNE-The Weaver and his Shuttle, O. My father was a farmer upon the Carrick border, O, [order, O; And carefully he bred me in decency and He bade me act a manly part, though I had ne'er a farthing, O; For without an honest manly heart, no man was worth regarding, O. Then out into the world, my course I did determine, O; Tho' to be rich was not my wish, yet to be great was charming, O: My talents they were not the worst, nor yet my education, O; Resolv'd was I, at least to try, to mend my situation, O. In many a way, and vain essay, I courted fortune's favour, 0; Some cause unseen still stept between, to frustrate each endeavour, O. Sometimes by foes I was o'erpower'd; sometimes by friends forsaken, O; And when my hope was at the top, I still was worst mistaken, O. Then sore harass'd, and tir'd at last, with fortune's vain delusion, O, I dropt my schemes, like idle dreams, and came to this conclusion, O— The past was bad, and the future hid; its good or ill untried, O; But the present hour was in my pow'r, and so I would enjoy it, O. No help, nor hope, nor view had I, nor person to befriend me, O; So I must toil, and sweat and broil, and labour to sustain me, 0: To plough and sow, to reap and mow, my father bred me early, O; For one, he said, to labour bred, was a match for fortune fairly, O. Thus all obscure, unknown, and poor, thro' life I'm doom'd to wander, O, Till down my weary bones I lay, in everlasting slumber, O. No view nor care, but shun whate'er might breed me pain or sorrow, ()! I live to-day as well's I may, regardless of tomorrow, O. But cheerful still, I am as well, as a monarch in a palace, O, Tho' fortune's frown still hunts me down, with all her wonted malice, 0 : I make indeed my daily bread, but ne'er can make it farther, O; But, as daily bread is all I need, I do not much regard her, O. When sometimes by my labour I earn a little mony, O, Some unforseen misfortune comes gen'rally upon me, 0: Mischance, mistake, or by neglect, or my good-natur'd folly, O; But come what will, I've sworn it still, I'll ne'er be melancholy, O. All you who follow wealth and power with unremitting ardour, O, The more in this you look for bliss, you leave your view the farther, O: Had you the wealth Potosi boasts, or nations to adore you, 0, A cheerful honest-hearted clown I will prefer before you, O. Ap in the Morning early. TUNE-Cold blows the Wind. CHORUS. Up in the morning's no for me, Up in the morning early : When a' the hills are cover'd wi' snaw, I'm sure it's winter fairly. Cauld blaws the wind frae east to west, Sae loud and shrill I hear the blast, The birds sit chittering in the thorn, And lang's the night frae e'en to morn- Bey, the Dusty Aliller. HEY, the dusty miller, That I got frae the miller. Hey, the dusty miller, Leeze me on the calling Robin. (382) TUNE-Dainty Davie. THERE was a lad was born in Kyle, I doubt it's hardly worth the while Rantin' rovin' Robin! Our monarch's hindmost year but ane The gossip keekit in his loof, Quo scho, wha lives will see the proof, This waly boy will be nae coof; I think we'll ca' him Robin. He'll hae misfortunes great and sma', But aye a heart aboon them a' He'll be a credit till us a’ We'll a' be proud o' Robin. ; The Sons of Old Killie. (386) YE sons of old Killie, assembled by Willie, I gat it frae a brisk young sodger laddie, Between Saint Johnston and bonnie Dundee, Oh, gin I saw the laddie that gae me't! Your thrifty old mother has scarce such May heaven protect my bonnie Scots laddie, another To sit in that honoured station. I've little to say, but only to pray, As praying's the ton of your fashion; A prayer from the muse you well may excuse, Tis seldom her favourite passion. Ye powers who preside o'er the wind and the tide, Who marked each element's border ; Who formed this frame with beneficent aim, Whose sovereign statute is order; Within this dear mansion may wayward contention Or withered envy ne'er enter; May secrecy round be the mystical bound, And brotherly love be the centre. The Sayful Widower. I MARRIED with a scolding wife, We lived full one-and-twenty years, A man and wife together; At length from me her course she steer'd, Of all the women in the world, Her body is bestowed well, A handsome grave does hide her; But sure her soul is not in hell, The deil would ne'er abide her! I rather think she is aloft, And imitating thunder; For why ?-methinks I hear her voice O, Whare did qan Get? (386) TUNE-Bonnie Dundee, O, WHARE did you get that hauver meal bannock? Oh silly blind body, oh dinna ye see? There was a Lass. TUNE-Duncan Davison. THERE was a lass, they ca'd her Meg, And she held o'er the moors to spin; There was a lad that follow'd her, ; They ca'd him Duncan Davison. The moor was driegh, and Meg was skeigh, Her favour Duncan could na win For wi' the rock she wad him knock, And aye she shook the temper-pin. As o'er the moor they lightly foor, A burn was clear, a glen was green, Upon the banks they eas'd their shanks, And aye she set the wheel between: But Duncan swore a haly aith That Meg should be a bride the morn, Then Meg took up her spinnin' graith, And flung them a' out o'er the burn. We'll big a house-a wee, wee house, And we will live like king and queen, When ye set by the wheel at e'en. Landlady, Caunt the Lawin! TUNE-Hey tuttie, taitie. |