But blythe's the blink o' Robie's e'e, For Buskie-glen and a' his gear. O thoughtless lassie, life's a faught; A hungry care's an unco care: 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? FAIR ELIZA. 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, Thee, dear maid, hae I offended? While the life beats in my bosom, Not the bee upon the blossom, All beneath the simmer moon; THE POSIE. 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 sae green, And a' to pu' a posie to my ain dear May. The primrose I will pu', the firstling o' the year, And I will pu' the pink, the emblem o' my dear, For she's the pink o' womankind, and blooms without a peer; And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. I'll pu' the budding rose, when Phebus peeps in view, For it's like a baumy kiss o' her sweet bonnie mou; The hyacinth's for constancy, wi' its unchanging blue, And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. The lily it is pure, and the lily it is fair, And in her lovely bosom I'll place the lily there; The daisy's for simplicity and unaffected air, 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 away; 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 silken 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; Thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird, 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, 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; I wad na gie a button for her. She has an e'e, she has but ane, Her nose and chin they threaten ither; She's bow-hough'd she's hein-shinn❜d, 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, I wad na gie a button for her. GLOOMY DECEMBER. 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 wi' Nancy, 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! Only thou, I swear and vow, Shall ever be my dearie. 1 2 |