How blythely wad I bide the stoure, Yestreen when to the trembling string, I sat, but neither heard nor saw. Tho' this was fair, and that was braw, And yon the toast of a' the town, I sigh'd, and said amang them a’ "Ye are na Mary Morison." Oh Mary, canst thou wreck his peace, Whase only faut is loving thee? Wandering Willie. HERE awa, there awa, wandering Willie, Winter-winds blew loud and cauld at our parting, Fears for my Willie brought tears in my ee; Welcome now simmer and welcome my Willie, The simmer to nature, my Willie to me. Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave of your slumbers, How your dread howling a lover alarms! Wauken, ye breezes! row gently, ye billows! And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my I left the lines and tented field, A leal, light heart was in my breast, I pass'd the mill, and trysting thorn, Wi' alter'd voice, quoth I, "Sweet lass, That's dearest to thy bosom ! My purse is light, I've far to gang, And fain would be thy lodger; I've served my king and country langTake pity on a sodger!' Sae wistfully she gaz'd on me, And lovelier was than ever; Quo' she, "A sodger ance I loe'd, Forget him shall I never : Our humble cot and hamely fare Ye freely shall partake o't; That gallant badge, the dear cockade, Ye're welcome for the sake o't. She gaz'd-she redden'd like a roseSyne pale like ony lily; She sank within my arms, and cried, "Art thou my ain dear Willie ?" "By Him who made yon sun and sky, I am the man; and thus may still By whom true love's regarded, True lovers be rewarded. The wars are o'er, and I'm come hame, For gold the merchant ploughs the main, The farmer ploughs the manor; But glory is the sodger's prize, The sodger's wealth is honour. The brave poor sodger ne'er despise, Blythe har I bren an yon Bill. TUNE-Liggeram Cosh. BLYTHE hae I been on yon hill, As the lambs before me; Careless ilka thought and free, As the breeze flew o'er me: Now nae longer sport and play, Mirth or sang can please me; Lesley is sae fair and coy, Care and anguish seize me. Heavy, heavy is the task, Hopeless love declaring: Trembling, I dow nocht but glow'r, Sighing, dumb, despairing! If she winna ease the thraws In my bosom swelling, Underneath the grass-green sod, Soon maun be my dwelling. ; Logan Brars. (361) The bees hum round the breathing flowers: Oh, gin my Love were you Red Rose! (362) On, gin my love were yon red rose Into her bonnie breast to fa'! Oh there, beyond expression blest, Wi' purple blossoms to the spring, When wearied on my little wing- Bonnie Jean. (363) THERE was a lass, and she was fair, And aye she wrought her mammie's wark, Had ne'er a lighter heart than she, That bless the little lintwhite's nest; And frost will blight the fairest flowers; And love will break the soundest rest. Young Robie was the brawest lad, He danc'd wi Jeanie on the down; As in the bosom o' the stream The moonbeam dwells at dewy e’eu ; So trembling, pure, was tender love Within the breast o' bounie Jean. ADOWN WINDING NITH I DID WANDER. And now she works her mammie's wark, Or what wad mak her weel again. The birds sang sweet in ilka grove; His cheek to hers he fondly prest, And whisper'd thus his tale o' love: "Oh Jeanie fair, I loe thee dear; Oh, canst thou think to fancy me; Or wilt thou leave thy mammie's cot, And learn to tent the farms wi' me? At barn or byre thou shalt na drudge, Or naething else to trouble thee; But stray amang the heather-bells, And tent the waving corn wi' me.' Now what could artless Jeanie do? She had nae will to say him na; At length she blush'd a sweet consent, And love was aye between them twa. Meg a' the Alill. AIR-Oh Bonnie Lass will you lie in a Barrack? She has gotten a coof wi' a claut o' siller, A heart like a lord, and a hue like a lady: The Laird was a widdiefu', bleerit knurl;She's left the guidfellow and taen the churl. The Miller he hecht her a heart leal and loving; [moving, The Laird did address her wi' matter more A fine pacing horse wi' a clear chained bridle, 231 And fair are the maids on the banks oʻ But by the sweet side o' the Nith's winding river, Are lovers as faithful, and maidens as fair : To equal young Jessie seek Scotland all over ; To equal young Jessie you seek it in vain : Grace, beauty, and elegance fetter her lover, And maidenly modesty fixes the chain. Oh, fresh is the rose in the gay dewy morning, And sweet is the lily at evening close; But in the fair presence o' lovely young Jessie Unseen is the lily, unheeded the rose. Love sits in her smile, a wizard ensnaring: Enthron'd in her een he delivers his law And still to her charms she alone is a stranger Her modest demeanour's the jewel of a'! A whip by her side, and a bonnie side-saddle. down winding Nith I did Wander. Oh wae on the siller, it is sae prevailing! And wae on the love that is fixed on a mailen ! A tocher's nae word in a true lover's parle, But gie me my love, and a fig for the warl! Open the Door to Me, oh! "OH! open the door, some pity to show, TUNE-The Mucking o' Geordie's Byre ADOWN winding Nith I did wander, To mark the sweet flowers as they spring Adown winding Nith I did wander, Of Phillis to muse and to sing. CHORUS. Awa wi' your belles and your beauties, The daisy amus'd my fond fancy, The rose-bud's the blush o' my charmer, But fairer and purer her breast. Yon knot of gay flowers in the arbour, Her voice is the song of the morning, That wakes thro' the green-spreading grove, When Phoebus peeps over the mountains, On music, and pleasure, and love. But, beauty, how frail and how fleetingThe bloom of a fine summer's day! While worth in the mind o' my Phillis Will flourish without a decay. In each bird's careless song, I mark'd the cruel hawk By Allan Stream I chanr'd to Rove. TUNE-Allan Water. By Allan stream I chanc'd to rove, While Phoebus sank beyond Benleddi; (366) The winds were whispering thro' the grove, The yellow corn was waving ready : I listen'd to a lover's sang, And thought on youthfu' pleasures mony; And aye the wild-wood echoes rang Oh, dearly do I love thee, Annie! Oh, happy be the woodbine bower, Nae nightly bogle make it eerie; Nor ever sorrow stain the hour, The place and time I met my dearie! Her head upon my throbbing breast, She, sinking, said, "I'm thine for ever!" While mony a kiss the seal imprest, The sacred vow, we ne'er should sever. The haunt o' spring's the primrose brae, The simmer joys the flocks to follow; How cheery thro' her shortening day, Is autumn in her weeds o' yellow! But can they melt the glowing heart, Or chain the soul in speechless pleasure? Or thro' each nerve the rapture dart, Like meeting her, our bosom's treasure? Come let me take Thee to my Breast. AIR-Cauld Kail. COME, let me take thee to my breast, And pledge we ne'er shall sunder; And I shall spurn as vilest dust The warld's wealth and grandeur: And do I hear my Jeanie own That equal transports move her? I ask for dearest life alone That I may live to love her. Thus in my arms, wi' all thy charms, I clasp my countless treasure; I'll seek nae mair o' heaven to share, Than sic a moment's pleasure: And by thy een sae bonnie blue, I swear I'm thine for ever! And on thy lips I seal my vow, And break it shall I never! When day, expiring in the west, The curtain draws o' nature's rest, I flee to his arms I loe best, And that's my ain dear Davie. Whistle and I'll Come to you, my Lad. At kirk, or at market, whene'er ye meet me, Yet look, &c. Aye vow and protest that ye care na for me, Bruce's Address. (368) TUNE-Hey Tuttie Taittie. Scors, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led; Welcome to your gory bed, Or to victorie! Now's the day, and now's the hour; Wha will be a traitor knave? Let him turn and flee! Let him follow me! By oppression's woes and pains! |