Blithe was she. Wha I wish were maggots' meat, I could write-but Meg maun see 't— 141 BLITHE WAS SHE. TUNE-"Andro and his cutty gun." ["I composed these verses while I stayed at Ochtertyre, with Sir William Murray (father of Sir George Murray, late secretary for the colonies). The lady, who was also at Ochtertyre at the same time, was the well-known toast, Miss Euphemia Murray, of Lintrose, who was called, and very justly, the Flower of Strathmore.”—Burns.] CHORUS. BLITHE, blithe and merry was she, Blithe was she butt and ben: Blithe by the banks of Ern, An' blithe in Glenturit glen. By Auchtertyre grows the aik, On Yarrow banks the birken shaw; Than braes o' Yarrow ever saw. Her looks were like a flow'r in May, As light's a bird upon a thorn. Her bonnie face it was as meek As ony lamb upon a lea; The evening sun was ne'er sae sweet The Highland hills I've wander'd wide, But Phemie was the blithest lass MY PEGGY'S FACE. TUNE-"My Peggy's face." My Peggy's face, my Peggy's form, The lily's hue, the rose's dye, The bonnie wee thing. The tender thrill, the pitying tear, 143 THE BONNIE WEE THING. TUNE-" Bonnie wee thing." ["Composed on my little idol, the charming, lovely Davies."-Burns.] BONNIE wee thing, cannie wee thing, I wad wear thee in my bosom, Wit, an' grace, an' love, an' beauty, Goddess o' this soul o' mine! I wad wear thee in my bosom, A ROSE-BUD BY MY EARLY WALK. TUNE-"The shepherd's wife." ["This song I composed on Miss Jenny Cruickshanks, only child to my worthy friend Mr. William Cruickshanks, of the High School, Edinburgh."-Burns.] A ROSE-BUD by my early walk, Sae gently bent its thorny stalk, All on a dewy morning. Ere twice the shades o' dawn are fled, In a' its crimson glory spread, An' drooping rich the dewy head, Within the bush, her covert nest, The dew sat chilly on her breast Sae early in the morning. She soon shall see her tender brood, So thou, dear bird, young Jeanie fair! Braving angry Winter's Storms. So thou, sweet rose-bud, young an' gay, That watch'd thy early morning. 145 BRAVING ANGRY WINTER'S STORMS. TUNE-"Neil Gow's lament for Abercairny." ["This song I composed on one of the most accomplished of women, Miss Peggy Chalmers that was, now Mrs. Lewis Hay, of Forbes & Co.'s Bank, Edinburgh."-Burns.] WHERE, braving angry winter's storms, Far in their shade my Peggy's charms Astonish'd, doubly marks its beam, Blest be the wild, sequester'd shade, But tearing Peggy from my soul |