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But blythe's the blink o' Robie's e’e,
And weel I wat he loes me dear: Ae blink o' him I wad na gie
For Buskie-glen and a' his gear.
O thoughtless lassie, life's a faught;
The canniest gate, the strife is sair ; But ay fu’han't is fechtin best,
A hungry care's an unco care : But some will spend and some will spare,
An' wilfu' folk maun hae their will; Syne as ye brew, my maiden fair,
Keep mind that ye maun drink the yill.
Oh, 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: We may be poor-Robie and I,
Light is the burden luve lays on; Content and luve bring peace and joy,
What mair hae queens upon a throne ?
A GAELIC AIR,
Turn again, thou fair Eliza,
Ae kind blink before we part, Rew on thy despairing lover!
Canst thou break his faithfu' heart ! Turn again, thou fair Eliza ;
If to love thy heart denies, For pity hide the cruel sentence
Under friendship's kind disguise !
The offence is loving thee:
Wha for thine wad gladly die?
While the life beats in my bosom,
Thou shalt mix in ilka throe : Turn again, thou lovely maiden,
Ae sweet smile on me bestow, !
Not the bee upon the blossom,
In the pride o' sinny noon; Not the little sporting fairy,
All beneath the simmer moon;
Fancy lightens on his e'e,
That thy presence gies to me.
O luve will venture in, where it daur na weel be
seen, O luve will venture in, where wisdom ance has
been ; But I will down yon river rove, amang the wood
The primrose I will pu’, the firstling o' the year,
without a peer ;
I'll pu' the budding rose, when Phebus peeps in
view, For it's like a baumy kiss of her sweet bonnie
mou; The hyacinth's for constancy, wi' its unchanging
The lily it is pure, and the lily it is fair,
The daisy's for simplicity and unaffected air,
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.
The hawthorn I will pu', wi' its locks o' siller
grey, Where, like an aged man, it stands at break o
day, But the songster's nest within the bush I winna
tak a way ; And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. The woodbine I will pu', when the e'ening star
is near, And the diamond-draps o' dew shall be her e'en
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.
I'll tie the posie round wi' the sílken band o'luve, And I'll place it in her breast, and I'll swear by
a' above, That to my latest draught o' life the band shall
ne'er remuve, And this will be a posie to my ain dear May.
THE BANKS O’ DOON.
Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair ;
And I sae weary, fu' o' care!
That wantons thro' the flowering thorn:
Departed never to return.
Oft hae I rov'd by bonnie Doon,
To see the rose and woodbine twine;
And ilka bird sang o its luve,
And fondly sae did I o’mine. Wi’ lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree; And my fause luver stole my rose,
Bat, ah! he left the thorn wi' me.
SIC A WIFE AS WILLIE HAD.
Willie Wastle dwalt on Tweed,
The spot they ca'd it Linkumdoddie;
Cou'd stown a clue wi' ony bodie;
Sic a wife as Willie had,
She has an e'e, she has but ane,
The cat has twa the very colour;
A clapper tongue wad deave a miller;
Sic a wife, &c.
She's bow-hough'd she's hein-shinn'd,
Ae limpin leg a hand-breed shorter;
To balance fair in ilka quarter:
Sic a wife, &c.
Auld baudrans by the ingle sits,
An' wi' her loof her face a washin ; But Willie's wife is nae sae trig,
She dights her grunzie wi' a hushion ;
Her walie nieves like midden-ereels,
Sic a wife as Willie had,
Ance mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December !
Ance mair I hail thee wi? sorrow and care ; Sad was the parting thou makes me remember,
Parting wiNancy, Oh! ne'er to meet mair. Fond lovers parting is sweet painful pleasure,
Hope beaming mild on the soft parting hour; But the dire feeling, O farewell for ever,
Is anguish unmingl’d and agony pure.
Wild as the winter now tearing the forest,
'Till the last leaf o' the summer is flown, Such is the tempest has shaken my bosom,
Since my last hope and last comfort is gone ; Still as I hail thee, thou gloomy December,
Still shall I hail thee wi' sorrow and care ; For sad was the parting thou makes me remember,
Parting wi' Nancy, oh, ne'er to meet mair,
WILT THOU BE MY DEARIE,
Wilt thou be my dearie?
When sorrow wrings thy gentle heart, O wilt thou let me cheer thee?
By the treasure of my soul, And that's the love I bear thee !
I swear and vow, that only thou
Only thou, I swear and vow,