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Willie was a wabster guid,

Could stown a clew wi' ony bodie. He had a wife was dour and din,

weaver

stolen

harsh and noisy

O Tinkler Madgie was her mither; Sic a wife as Willie had,

I wadna gie a button for her.

She has an e'e—she has but ane,
The cat has twa the very colour ;
Five rusty teeth, forbye a stump,

besides

A clapper-tongue wad deave a miller: deafen A whiskin' beard about her mou',

Her nose and chin they threaten itherSic a wife as Willie had,

I wadna gie a button for her.

She's bough-houghed, she's hein-shinned,1
Ae limpin' leg a hand-breed shorter;
She's twisted right, she's twisted left,
To balance fair in ilka quarter :
She has a hump upon her breast,

The twin o' that upon her shouther
Sic a wife as Willie had,

I wadna gie a button for her.

Auld baudrons by the ingle sits,

And wi' her loof her face a-washin';

But Willie's wife is nae sae trig,

*shoulder

the cat

pali

She dights her grunzie wi' a wipes-pig-mouth hushion;

1 bow-legged: thin-shinned (?)

cushion

—dung

Her walie nieves like midden- huge fists

creels,

Her face wad fyle the Logan Water Sic a wife as Willie had,

I wadna gie a button for her.

baskets

THE SMILING SPRING.

TUNE- The Bonny Bell.

THE smiling Spring comes in rejoicing,
And surly Winter grimly flies;

Now crystal clear are the falling waters,
And bonny blue are the sunny skies.
Fresh

o'er the mountains breaks forth the morning,

The evening gilds the ocean's swell; All creatures joy in the sun's returning, And I rejoice in my bonny Bell.

The flowery Spring leads sunny Summer,
And yellow Autumn presses near;
Then in his turn comes gloomy Winter,
Till smiling Spring again appear.
Thus seasons dancing, life advancing,
Old Time and Nature their changes tell,

But never ranging, still unchanging,
I adore my bonny Bell.

THE GALLANT WEAVER.

TUNE The Weaver's March.

WHERE Cart rins rowin' to the sea,
By monie a flower and spreading tree,
There lives a lad, the lad for me,
He is a gallant weaver.

OI had wooers aucht or nine,

rolling

They gied me rings and ribbons fine;
And I was feared my heart would tine, be lost
And I gied it to the weaver.

My daddie signed my tocher-band, dowry-bond
To gie the lad that has the land;
But to my heart I'll add my hand,
And gie it to the weaver.

While birds rejoice in leafy bowers;
While bees delight in opening flowers;

While corn grows green in simmer showers,
I'll love my gallant weaver.

SHE'S FAIR AND FAUSE.

TUNE- She's Fair and Fause.

SHE'S fair and fause that causes my smart, false I lo'ed her meikle and lang;

She's broken her vow, she's broken my heart, And I may e'en gae hang.

A coof cam in wi' routh o' gear, fool-abundance

And I hae tint my dearest dear;
But woman is but warld's gear,
Sae let the bonny lass gang.

Whae'er ye be that woman love,

To this be never blind :

Nae ferlie 'tis though fickle she prove,

A woman has❜t by kind.

O woman, lovely woman fair!

An angel form's fa'n to thy share;

lost

wonder

nature

'Twad been owre meikle to gien thee mair, have given I mean an angel mind.1

1 In a song, entitled The Address, which appears in The Lark (2 vols., 1765), there is a passage which perhaps suggested the thought in the fourth stanza of the above song:

'Twixt pleasing hope and painful fear
True love divided lies;

MY WIFE'S A WINSOME WEE THING.

"In the air My Wife's a Wanton Wee Thing, if a few lines smooth and pretty can be adapted to it, it is all you can expect. The following were made extempore to it; and though, on further study, I might give you something more profound, yet it might not suit the light-horse gallop of the air so well as this random clink." ― Burns to Mr. Thomson, Nov. 8, 1792.

SHE is a winsome wee thing,
She is a handsome wee thing,
She is a bonny wee thing,1

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This sweet wee wife o' mine.

With artless look and soul sincere,
Above all mean disguise.

For Celia thus my heart has moved,
Accept it, lovely fair;

I've liked before, but never loved,
Then let me not despair.

My fate before your feet I lay,

Sentence your willing slave;
Remember that though tyrants slay,
Yet heavenly powers save.

To bless is Heaven's peculiar grace,
Let me a blessing find;

And since you wear an angel's face,

O show an angel's mind!

1 Manuscript - "She is a winsome wee thing." The alteration was by Mr. Thomson.

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