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ÆT. 34.] YON WILD MOSSY MOUNTAINS.

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For there, wi' my lassie, the day lang I rove, While o'er us unheeded flee the swift hours o' love.

She is not the fairest, although she is fair;
O' nice education but sma' is her share;
Her parentage humble as humble can be;
But I lo'e the dear lassie because she lo'es me.

To beauty what man but maun yield him a prize,

In her armour of glances, and blushes, and

sighs!

And when wit and refinement hae polished her darts,

They dazzle our e'en, as they flee to our hearts.

But kindness, sweet kindness, in the fond sparkling e'e,

Has lustre outshining the diamond to me;
And the heart beating love as I'm clasped in

her arms,

Oh, these are my lassie's all-conquering charms!

O FOR ANE-AND-TWENTY, TAM.

TUNE-The Moudiewort.

"The subject of this song had a real origin: a young girl having been left some property by a near relation, and at her own disposal on her attaining majority, was pressed by her relations to marry an old rich booby. Her affections, however, had previously been engaged by a young man, to whom she had pledged her troth when she should become of age, and she of course obstinately rejected the solicitations of her friends to any other match. Burns represents the lady addressing her youthful lover in the language of constancy and affection.". Stenhouse.

CHORUS.

AND O for ane-and-twenty, Tam,
And hey, sweet ane-and-twenty, Tam,
I'll learn my kin a rattlin' sang,
An' I saw ane-and-twenty, Tam.

They shool me sair, and haud me down,

snub

And gar me look like bluntie, Tam! a sniveller But three short years will soon wheel roun’

And then comes ane-and-twenty, Tam.

ET. 34.] BESS AND HER SPINNING-WHEEL.

A gleib o' lan', a claut o' gear,
Was left me by my auntie, Tam;
At kith or kin I needna spier,

An' I saw ane-and-twenty, Tam.

They'll hae me wed a wealthy coof,
Though I mysel' hae plenty, Tam;

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lump

ask

fool

But hear❜st thou, laddie

there's my loof

palm

I'm thine at ane-and-twenty, Tam.

BESS AND HER SPINNING-WHEEL.

TUNE The Sweet Lass that lo'es me.

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 set me down and sing and spin,
While laigh descends the simmer sun,
Blest wi' content, and milk and meal
O leeze me on my spinning-wheel!

On ilka hand the burnies trot,

dear to me

comfortably wraps-soft

low

And meet below my theekit cot;

thatched

The scented birk and hawthorn white,

Across the pool their arms unite,

Alike to screen the birdie's nest,
And little fishes' caller rest:

The sun blinks kindly in the biel',
Where blithe I turn my spinning-wheel.

On lofty aiks the cushats wail,
And echo cons the doolfu' tale;
The lintwhites in the hazel braes,
Delighted, rival ther's lays:
The craik amang the clover hay,
The paitrick whirrin' o'er the ley,

cool

shed

wood-pigeons

linnets

landrail

partridge

The swallow jinkin' round my shiel, dodging-shed

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?

ET. 34.] NITHSDALE'S WELCOME HAME.

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NITHSDALE'S WELCOME HAME.

Written when Lady Winifred Maxwell, the descendant of the forfeited Earl of Nithsdale, returned to Scotland and rebuilt Terregles House, in the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright. Captain Riddel of Glenriddel furnished the air to which Burns composed the

verses.

THE noble Maxwells and their powers
Are coming o'er the Border,

And they'll gae bigg Terregles towers, build
And set them a' in order.

And they declare Terregles fair,
For their abode they choose it;
There's no a heart in a' the land
But's lighter at the news o't.

Though stars in skies may disappear,
And angry tempests gather,
The happy hour may soon be near
That brings us pleasant weather.
The weary night o' care and grief
May hae a joyful morrow;
So dawning day has brought relief

Fareweel our night of sorrow!

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