It's a' for the apple he'll nourish the tree; It's a' for the honey he'll cherish the bee; My laddie's sae meikle in luve wi' the siller, He canna hae luve to spare for me. Your proffer o' luve's an arle-penny, earnest, bait My tocher's the bargain ye wad buy; But an ye be crafty, I am cunnin', Sae ye wi' another your fortune maun try. Ye're like to the timmer o' yon rotten wood, Ye're like to the bark o' yon rotten tree; Ye'll slip frae me like a knotless thread, And ye'll crack your credit wi' mae nor me. WHAT CAN A YOUNG LASSIE? TUNE-What can a Young Lassie do wi' an Auld Man? WHAT can a young lassie, what shall a young lassie, What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man? Bad luck on the penny that tempted my minnie To sell her poor Jenny for siller and lan'! He's always compleenin' frae mornin' to e'enin', He hoasts and he hirples the coughs-hobbles weary day lang ; ET. 34.] HOW CAN I BE BLITHE AND GLAD? 7 He's doyl't and he's dozin', his bluid it is stupid frozen, O dreary's the night wi' a crazy auld man! He hums and he hankers, he frets and he fumbles cankers, I never can please him, do a' that I can; He's peevish and jealous of a' the young fellows, O dool on the day I met wi' an auld man! sorrow My auld auntie Katie upon me takes pity, I'll do my endeavour to follow her plan: I'll cross him, and wrack him, until I heartbreak him, And then his auld brass will buy me a new pan. HOW CAN I BE BLITHE AND GLAD? TUNE-The Bonny Lad that's far awa’. "He took the first line, and even some hints of his verses, from an old song in Herd's collection, which begins: How can I be blithe or glad, or in my mind contented be?'"- Stenhouse. O How can I be blithe and glad, Or how can I gang brisk and braw, When the bonny lad that I lo❜e best Is owre the hills and far awa'? fine It's no the frosty winter wind, It's no the driving drift and snaw; But aye the tear comes in my e'e, To think on him that's far awa'. My father pat me frae his door, A pair o' gloves he bought to me, I DO CONFESS THOU ART SAE FAIR. I DO confess thou art sae fair, I wad been owre the lugs in 'love, Had I na found the slightest prayer ears That lips could speak thy heart could move. I do confess thee sweet, but find Thou are sae thriftless o' thy sweets, Thy favours are the silly wind, That kisses ilka thing it meets. ET. 34.] I DO CONFESS THOU ART SAE FAIR. See yonder rose-bud, rich in dew, Amang its native briers sae coy; How sune it tines its scent and hue When pou'd and worn a common toy! Though thou may gaily bloom a while; 9 loses 1 Altered into the Scotch language by Burns from an English poem by Sir Robert Ayton, private secretary to Anne, consort of James VI. Sir Robert's verses are as follow: I do confess thou'rt sweet; yet find That kisseth everything it meets; The morning rose that untouched stands, But scent and beauty both are gone, And leaves fall from her one by one. Such fate, ere long, will thee betide, When thou hast handled been awhile, - YON WILD MOSSY MOUNTAINS. TUNE Yon Wild Mossy Mountains. "This tune is by Oswald: the song alludes to a part of my private history which it is of no consequence to the world to know." - BURNS. YON wild mossy mountains sae lofty and wide, That nurse in their bosom the youth o' the Clyde, Where the grouse lead their coveys through the heather to feed, And the shepherd tents his flock as he pipes on his reed. Not Gowrie's rich valleys, nor Forth's sunny shores, To me hae the charms o' yon wild mossy moors; For there, by a lanely and sequestered stream, Resides a sweet lassie, my thought and my dream. Amang thae wild mountains shall still be my path, Ilk stream foaming down its ain green, narrow valley strath ; |