THE RANTIN' DOG THE DADDIE O'T. Tune-" East nook o' Fife." [The heroine of this humorous ditty was the mother of "Sonsie, smirking, dear-bought Bees," a person whom the poet regarded, as he says, both for her form and her grace.] O WHA my babie-clouts will buy? O wha will tent me when I cry? O wha will own he did the fau't? The rantin' dog the daddie o't. When I mount the creepie chair, The rantin' dog the daddie o't Wha will crack to me my lane? The rantin' dog the daddie o't. MY HEART WAS ANCE. Tune-" To the weavers gin ye go." ["The chorus of this song," says Burns, in his note to the Museum, "is old, the rest is mine." The "bonnie, westlin weaver lad" is said to have been one of the rivals of the poet in the affections of a west landlady.] My heart was ance as blythe and free As simmer days were lang, But a bonnie, westlin weaver lad Has gart me change my sang. To the weavers gin ye go, fair maids, I rede you right gang ne'er at night, I sat beside my warpin-wheel, And ay I ca'd it roun'; But every shot and every knock, The moon was sinking in the west As my bonnie westlin weaver lad Convoy'd me thro' the glen. But what was said, or what was done, Shame fa' me gin I tell; But, oh! I fear the kintra soon Will ken as weel's mysel. To the weavers gin ye go, fair maids, To the weavers gin ye go; I rede you right gang ne'er at night, NANNIE. Tune-"My Nannie, O." [Agnes Fleming, servant at Calcothill, inspired this fine song: she died at an advanced age, and was more remarkable for the beauty of her form than face. When questioned about the love of Burns, she smiled and said, "Aye, atweel he made a great wark about me."] BEHIND you hills, where Lugar flows, 'Mang moors and mosses many, O, The wintry sun the day has closed, And I'll awa to Nannie, O. The westlin wind blaws loud an' shrill; The night's baith mirk and rainy, O; But I'll get my plaid, an' out I'll steal, An' owre the hills to Nannie, O. My Nannie's charming, sweet, an' young; Her face is fair, her heart is true, A country lad is my degree, An' few there be that ken me, O; But what care I how few they be? I'm welcome ay to Nannie, O. My riches a's my penny-fee, An' I maun guide it cannie, O; But warl's gear ne'er troubles me, My thoughts are a' my Nannie, O. Our auld guidman delights to view His sheep an' kye thrive bonnie, O; But I'm as blythe that hauds his pleugh, An' has nae care but Nannie, O. Come weel, come woe, I care na by, I'll tak what Heav'n will sen' me, 0: Nae ither care in life have I, But live, an' love my Nannie, O. A FRAGMENT. Tune-"John Anderson my jo." [This verse, written early, and probably intended for the starting verse of a song, was found among the papers of the poet. ONE night as I did wander, When corn begins to shoot, I sat me down to ponder, A cushat crooded o'er me, That echoed thro' the braes. BONNIE PEGGY ALISON. Tune-" Braes o' Balquhidder." [On those whom Burns loved, he poured out songs without limit. Peggy Alison is sald, by a western tradition, to be Montgomery's Peggy, but this seems doubtful.] CHORUS. I'll kiss thee yet, yet, An' I'll kiss thee o'er again; An' I'll kiss thee yet, yet, ILK care and fear, when thou art near, When in my arms, wi' a' thy charms, And by thy een, sae bonnie blue, I swear, I'm thine for ever, O!— And on thy lips I seal my vow, An' I'll kiss thee o'er again; My bonnie Peggy Alison ! THERE'S NOUGHT BUT CARE. Tune-"Green grow the rashes." ["Man was made when nature was but an apprentice; but woman is the last and most perfect work of nature," says an old writer, in a rare old book: a passage which expresses the sentiment of Burns; yet it is all but certain, that the Ploughman Bard was unao quainted with "Cupid's Whirlygig," where these words are to be found.] CHORUS. Green grow the rashes, O! Green grow the rashes, O! THERE'S nought but care on ev'ry han', In every What signifies the life o' man, An' 'twere na for the lasses, O. The warl'ly race may riches chase, But gie me a canny hour at e'en, For you sae douce, ye sneer at this, He dearly lov'd the lasses, O. |