The stanza with which this song, inserted by Messrs Brash and Reid, begins, is the chorus of the old song under this title; and though perfectly suitable to that wicked but witty ballad, it has no accordance with the strain of delicate and tender sentiment of this improved song. In regard to the five other additional stanzas, though they are in the spirit of the two stanzas that are unquestionably our bard's, yet every reader of discernment will see they are by an inferior hand; and the real author of them, ought neither to have given them, nor suffered them to be given, to the world, as the production of Burns. If there were no other mark of their spurious origin, the latter half of the third line in the seventh stanza, our hearts were ne'er our foe, would be proof sufficient. Many are the instances in which our bard has adopted defective rhymes, but a single instance cannot be produced, in which, to preserve the rhyme, he has given a feeble thought, in false grammar. These additional stanzas are not however without merit, and they may serve to prolong the plea. sure which every person of taste must feel, from listeningto a most happy union of beautiful music with moral sentiments that are singularly interesting. MY TOCHER'S THE JEWEL. O MEIKLE thinks my luve o' my beauty, My tocher's the jewel has charms for him. It's a' for the apple he'll nourish the tree; It's a' for the hinney 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, Sae ye wi' anither your fortune maun try. THEN GUIDWIFE COUNT THE LAWIN. GANE is the day and mirk's the night, But we'll ne'er stray for faute o' light, For ale and brandy's stars and moon, And bluid red wine's the risin sun. Then guidwife count the lawin, the lawin, the lawin, Then guidwife count the lawin, and bring a coggie mair. There's wealth an' ease for gentlemen, My coggie is a haly pool, He hums and he hankers, he frets and he 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! My auld auntie Katie upon me takes pity, And then his auld brass will buy me a new pan. THE BONNIE WEE THING. BONNIE wee thing, cannie wee thing, Lovely wee thing, was thou mine; I wad wear thee in my bosom, Lest my jewel I should tine. Wistfully I look and languish, In that bonnie face of thine; Wit, and grace, and love, and beauty, O, FOR ANE AND TWENTY TAM. Tune "The Moudie wort." An' O, for ane and twenty, Tam! An' hey, sweet ane and twenty, Tam! I'll learn my kin a rattlin sang, An' I saw ane and twenty, Tam. THEY snool me sair, and haud me down, A gleib o' lan', a claut o' gear, They'll hae me wed a wealthy coof, BESS AND HER SPINNING WHEEL, O LEEZE me on my spinning wheel, On ilka hand the burnies trot, On lofty aiks the cusbats wail, Wi' sma' to sell, and less to buy, COUNTRY LASSIE. IN simmer when the hay was mawn, Says, I'll be wed come o't what will; Its ye hae wooers mony a ane, For Johnie o' the Buskie-glen, But blythe's the blink o' Robie's e'e, For Buskie-glen and a' his gear. O thoughtless lassie, life's a faught, A hungry care's an unco care: But some will spend, and some will spare, O gear will buy me rigs o' land, And gear will buy me sheep and kye; But the tender heart o' leesome luve, The gowd and siller canna buy: We may be poor, Robie and I, Light is the burden luve lays on; Content and love brings peace and joy, What mair hae queens upon a throne? FAIR ELIZA. A GAELIC AIR. TURN again, thou fair Eliza, Ae kind blink before we part, If to love thy heart denies, The offence is loving thee: mou ; The hyacinth's for constancy wi' its unchanging blue: And a to be a posie to my ain dear May. The lily it is pure, and the lily it is fair, The hawthorn I will pu', wi' its locks o' siller grey, Where, like an aged man, it stands at break o' day; But the songster's nest within the bush I winna tak away: And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. The woodbine I will pu' when the e'ening star is near, And the diamond-draps o' dew shall be her een sae clear; The violet's for modesty which weel she fa's to wear: And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. I'll tie the posie round wi' the silken band o' luve, And I'll place it in her breast, and I'll swear by a' above, That to my latest draught o' life the band shall ne'er remuve, And this will be a posie to my ain dear May. THE BANKS O' DOON. YE banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, Thou'll break my heart thou warbling bird, Departed never to return. Oft hae I rov'd by bonnie Doon, To see the rose and woodbine twine; And ilka bird sang o' its luve, And, fondly, sae did I o' mine. Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree; And my fause lover stole my rose, But ah! he left the thorn wi' me. SIC A WIFE AS WILLIE HAD. WILLIE WASILE dwalt on Tweed, Cou'd stown a clue wi' ony bodie; O Tinkler Madgie was her mither; Sic a wife as Willie had, She has an e'e, she has but ane, The cat has twa the very colour; Five rusty teeta, forbye a stump, A clapper tongue wad deave a miller; A whiskin beard ahout her mou, Her nose and chin they threaten ither; Sic a wife, &c. She's bow-hough'd, she's hein shinn'd, Ae limpin leg a hand-breed shorter; The twin o' that upon her shouther; Auld baudrans by the ingle sits, And wi' her loof her face a-washin; But Willie's wife is nae sae trig, She dights her grunzie wi' a hushion; Her walie nieves like midden creels, Her face wad fyle the Logan-water; Sic a wife as Willie had, EVAN BANKS. SLOW Spreads the gloom my soul desires, And she, in simple beauty drest, Ye lofty banks that Evan bound! Can all the wealth of India's coast From that dear stream which flows to Clyde. GLOOMY DECEMBER. ANCE mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December, Ance mair I hail thee, wi' sorrow and care; Sad was the parting thou makes me remember, Parting wi Nancy, Oh! ne'er to meet mair. Fond lovers parting is sweet painful pleasure, Hope beaming mild on the soft parting hour; But the dire feeling, O farewell for ever, Is anguish unmingl'd and agony pure. Wild as the winter now tearing the forest, Still shall I hail thee wi' sorrow and care; For sad was the parting thou makes me remember, Parting wi' Nancy, Oh, ne'er to meet mair. WILT THOU BE MY DEARIE. WILT thou be my dearie; When sorrow wrings thy gentle heart, O wilt thou let me cheer thee; By the treasure of my soul, Only thou I swear and vow, Lassie, say thou lo'es me: Or, if thou wilt na be my ain, Sae na thou'lt refuse me : If it winna, canna be, Thou, for thine, may choose me : Let me, lassie, quickly die, Trusting that thou lo'es me, Lassie, let me quickly die, Trusting that thou lo'es me. BONNIE BELL. THE Smiling Spring comes in rejoicing, And surly Winter grimly flies; Now crystal clear are the falling waters, The ev'ning gilds the ocean's swell; The flowry Spring leads sunny Summer, AFTON WATER. FLOW gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. Thou stock dove whose echo resounds thro' the glen, Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den, Thou green-crested lapwing thy screaming forbear, I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair. How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills, How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below, Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow: There oft as mild evening weeps over the lea, THE GALLANT WEAVER. WHERE Cart rins rowin to the sea, Oh I had wooers aught or nine, My daddie sign'd my tocher-band While birds rejoice in leafy bowers; The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and LOUIS, WHAT RECK I BY THEE. me. Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, And winds by the cot where my Mary resides; How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave, As gathering sweet flowerets she stems thy clear wave. Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. LOUIS, what reck I by thee, Or Geordie on his ocean; Dyvor beggar louns to me, Let her crown my love her law, And in her breast enthrone me: Kings and nations, swith awa! * In some editions sailor is substituted for weaver, |