Wha for Scotland's king and law By oppression's woes and pains! Lay the proud usurpers low! MONTGOMERY'S PEGGY. A FRAGMENT. TUNE-"Galla Water." ALTHO' my bed were in yon muir Had I my dear Montgomery's Peggy. When o'er the hill beat surly storms, I'd shelter dear Montgomery's Peggy. For a' that, an' a' that. Were I a baron proud an' high, An' horse an' servants waiting ready, The sharin 't with Montgomery's Peggy. FOR A' THAT, AN' A' THAT. TUNE-"For a' that, an' a' that." ["The following will be allowed, I think, to be two or three pretty good prose thoughts inverted into rhyme. I do not give you the song for your book, but merely by way of vive la bagatelle; for the piece is not really poetry."-Burns to G. Thomson.] Is there, for honest poverty, That hangs his head, an' a' that? Our toils obscure, an' a' that, What tho' on hamely fare we dine, Gi'e fools their silks, an' knaves their wine, For a' that, an' a' that, Their tinsel show, an' a' that; The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor, Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord, His riband, star, an' a' that, A prince can mak' a belted knight, Their dignities, an' a' that, The pith o' sense, an' pride o' worth, Are higher ranks than a' that. Then let us pray that come it may, That sense an' worth, o'er a' the earth, May bear the gree, an' a' that. For a' that, an' a' that, It's coming yet, for a' that, That man to man, the warld o'er, Shall brothers be for a' that. My Nannie, 0. MY NANNIE, O. TUNE-"My Nannie, O." 39 ["I have often thought that no man can be a proper critic of love composition except he himself, in one or more instances, have been a warm votary of this passion. Whether 'My Nannie, O' wil! stand the test I will not pretend to say, because it is my own; only I can say it was at the time genuine from the heart."-Burns's Commonplace Book.] BEHIND yon hills where Lugar flows, The westlin wind blaws loud an' shrill: My Nannie's charming, sweet, an' young; Her face is fair, her heart is true, A country lad is my degree, An' few there be that ken me, O; But what care I how few they be? My riches a 's my penny-fee, An' I maun guide it cannie, O; Our auld gudeman delights to view Come weel, come woe, I care na by, Nae ither care in life ha’e I, But live, an' love my Nannie, O. UP IN THE MORNING EARLY. TUNE-"Cold blows the wind." ["The chorus of this song is old; the two stanzas are mine."-Burns.] CHORUS. Up in the morning 's no for me, Up in the morning early; When a' the hills are cover'd wi' snaw, I'm sure it's winter fairly. |