AE FOND KISS. TUNE-"Rory Dall's port." AE fond kiss, and then we sever; Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy, Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest; Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Whistle, and I'll come to you. 17 OH WHISTLE AN' I'LL COME TO YOU, MY LAD. TUNE-"Whistle an' I'll come to you, my lad." OH whistle an' I'll come to you, my lad, But warily tent, when ye come to court me, At kirk, or at market, whene'er you meet me, Yet look, &c. Aye vow an' protest that ye care na for me, For fear, &c. HANDSOME NELL.* TUNE-"I am a man unmarried." OH once I lov'd a bonnie lass, Ay, and I love her still; An' whilst that honour warms my breast I'll love my handsome Nell. As bonnie lasses I ha'e seen, A bonnie lass, I will confess, Is pleasant to the e'e, But without some better qualities, She's no the lass for me. But Nelly's looks are blithe and sweet, An', what is best of a', Her reputation is complete, An' fair without a flaw. She dresses aye sae clean and neat, *This was the Poet's first composition. Bonnie Lesley. A gaudy dress and gentle air 'Tis this in Nelly pleases me, 'Tis this enchants my soul; For absolutely in my breast She reigns without control. 19 BONNIE LESLEY. TUNE "The collier's bonnie lassie. Oн saw ye bonnie Lesley, As she gaed owre the border? She's gane, like Alexander, To spread her conquests farther. To see her is to love her, An' love but her for ever; For nature made her what she is Thou art a queen, fair Lesley, The hearts o' men adore thee. The de'il he could na scaith thee, An' say, "I canna wrang thee!" The powers aboon will tent thee; Return again, fair Lesley, Return to Caledonie ! That we may brag, we ha'e a lass I DREAM'D I LAY WHERE FLOWERS WERE SPRINGING. ["These two stanzas I composed when I was seventeen: they are among the oldest of my printed pieces.”—Burns.] I DREAM'D I lay where flowers were springing List'ning to the wild birds singing, By a falling crystal stream: Straight the sky grew black and daring; Thro' the woods the whirlwinds rave; Trees with aged arms were warring O'er the swelling drumlie wave. |