FORLORN, MY LOVE, NO COMFORT NEAR. TUNE-Let me in this ae Night. FORLORN, my love, no comfort near, CHORUS. Oh, wert thou, love, but near me, How kindly thou wouldst cheer me, Around me scowls a wintry sky, -- Cold, altered Friendship's cruel part, And say that fate is mine, love. But dreary though the moments fleet, Can on thy Chloris shine, love. LAST MAY A BRAW WOOER. TUNE- The Lothian Lassie. LAST May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen, And sair wi' his love he did deave me ; deafen I said there was naething I hated like men; The deuce gae wi'm to believe me, believe me; The deuce gae wi'm to believe me! He spak o' the darts o' my bonny black e'en, A well-stocked mailen - himsel' for the laird And marriage aff-hand, were his proffers; farm I never loot on that I kenned it, or cared, let But thought I might hae waur offers, waur worse offers; But thought I might hae waur offers. But what wad ye think? in a fortnight or less, The dei tak his taste to gae near her! He up the Gateslack to my black cousin Bess, Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her, could bear her; Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her! But a' the niest week as I fretted wi' care, next warlock; I glowred as I'd seen a warlock. stared But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink, Lest neibors might say I was saucy; My wooer he capered as he'd been in drink, And vowed I was his dear lassie, dear lassie; And vowed I was his dear lassie ! I speered for my cousin fu' couthy asked kindly and sweet, Gin she had recovered her hearin', And how my auld shoon fitted her shachl't feet, distorted But, Heavens! how he fell a swearin', a swearin'; But, Heavens! how he fell a swearin'. He begged, for guidsake, I wad be his wife, Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrow; So e'en to preserve the poor body in life, I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-mor row; 1 think I maun wed him to-morrow. WHY, why tell thy lover, Bliss he never must enjoy? Why, why undeceive him, And give all his hopes the lie? Why, why wouldst thou cruel, Wake thy lover from his dream? July, 1795 O THIS IS NO MY AIN LASSIE. TUNE-This is no my ain House. CHORUS. O THIS is no my ain lassie, I see a form, I see a face, She's bonny, blooming, straight, and tall, A thief sae pawkie is my Jean, 1 The reader will learn with surprise that the poet origi. nally wrote this chorus O this is no my ain Body, Kind though the Body be, etc. |