THE SPINNING-WHEEL

O LEEZE me on my spinning-wheel,
O leeze me on my rock and reel;
Frae tap to tae that cleeds me bien,
And haps me fiel and warm at e'en!
I'll sit me down and sing and spin,
While laigh descends the simmer sin;
Blest wi' content, and milk and meal-
O leeze me on my spinning-wheel.

On ilka hand the burnies trot,
And meet below my theekit cot;
The scented birk and hawthorn white
Across the pool their arms unite,
Alike to screen the birdie's nest,
And little fishes' caller rest;
Che sun blinks kindly in the biel,
Where blithe I turn my spinning-wheel

In lofty aiks the cushats wail,
And echo cons the dolefu' tale;
The lintwhites, in the hazel braes,
Delighted, rival ither's lays:
The craik, amang the claver hay,
The paitrick, whirrin' o'er the ley,
The swallow, jinkin' round my shiel,
Amuse me at my spinning-wheel.

Wi' sma' to sell, and less to buy,
Aboon distress, below envy,

O wha wad leave this humble state,
For a' the pride of a' the great?
Amid their flaring, idle toys,
Amid their cumbrous, dinsome joys,
Can they the peace and pleasure feel
Of Bessy at her spinning-wheel?

THE COUNTRY LASSIE.

In simmer, when the hay was mawn,
And corn wav'd green in ilka field,
While claver blooms white o'er the lea,
And roses blaw in ilka bield ;
Blithe Bessie in the milking shiel,
Says, I'll be wed, come o't what will;
Out spak a dame in wrinkled eild,
O' guid advisement comes nae ill.

Its ye hae wooers monie ane,

And lassie, ye're but young, ye ken; Then wait a wee, and cannie wale, A routhie butt, a routhie ben; There's Johnnie, o' the Buskie glen, Fu' is his barn, fu' is his byre; Tak this frae me, my bonie hen, It's plenty beets the luver's fire.

For Johnnie, o' the Buskie-glen,
I dinna care a single flie;
He lo'es sae weel his craps and kye,
He has no luve to spare for me

But blithe's the blink o' Robie's e'e,
And weel I wat he lo'es me dear;
Ae blink o' him I wad nae 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' willfu' folk maun hae their will;
Syne as ye brew, my maiden fair,

Keep mind that ye maun drink the yill.

O, gear will buy me rigs o' land,

And gear will buy me sheep and kye; But the tender heart o' leesome love The gowd and siller canna buy: We may be poor Robie and I, Light is the burden love lays on: Content and luve brings peace and joy — What mair hae queens upon a throne?

TAM GLEN.

My heart is a breaking, dear Tittie,
Some counsel unto me come len';

To anger them a' is a pity,

But what will I do wi' Tam Glen?

I'm thinking, wi' sic a braw fellow,
In poortith I might make a fen';
What care I in riches to wallow,
If I maun marry Tam Glen?

There's Lowrie, the laird o' Drumeller,

"Guid day to you, brute," he comes ben He brags an' he blaw o' his siller,

But when will he dance like Tam Glen?

My minnie does constantly deave me,

And bids me beware o' young men; They flatter, she says, to deceive me; But wha can think sae o' Tam Glen?

My daddie says, gin I'll forsake him,
He'll gie me guid hunder marks ten;
But if it's ordain'd I maun tak him,
O wha will I get but Tam Glen?

Yestreen, at the Valentine's dealing,

My heart to my mou gied a sten; For thrice I drew ane without failing, And thrice it was written Tam Glen.

The last Halloween I was waukin

My droukit sark-sleeve, as ye ken; His likeness cam up the house staukin, In the very gray breeks o' Tam Glen

Some counsel, dear Tittie, don't tarry;
I'll gie ye my bonie black hen,
Gif ye will advise me to marry
The lad I lo'e dearly, Tam Glen

SOMEBODY.

My heart is sair, I dare na tell,
My heart is sair for somebody
I could wake a winter night,
For the sake o' somebody
O-hon! for somebody!

O-hey! for somebody!

I could range the world around,
For the sake o' somebody.

Ye powers that smile on virtuous love,
O sweetly smile on somebody!
Frae ilka danger keep him free,

And send me safe my somebody.
Oh-hon! for somebody!

Oh-hey! for somebody!

I wad do what wad I not?

For the sake o' somebody!

O WHISTLE, &c.

CHORUS.

O WHISTLE, and I'll come to you, my lad;

O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad;
Tho' father, and mither, and a' should go mad,
O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad.