She'll wander by the aiken tree,
When trystin-time draws near again;
And when her lovely form I see,
Oh haith, she's doubly dear again!
I'll aye ca' in by yon town,
And by yon garden green, again;
I'll aye ca' in by yon town,
And see my bonnie Jean again.
Wilt thon be my Dearie? (349)
AIR-The Sutor's Dochter.
WILT thou be my dearie?
When sorrow wrings thy gentle heart,
Wilt thou let me cheer thee?
By the treasure of my soul,
That's the love I bear thee!
I swear and vow that only thou
Shall ever be my dearie.
Only thou, I swear and vow,
Shall ever be my dearie.
Lassie, say thou loes me;
Or if thou wilt nae be my ain.
Say na thou'lt refuse me:
If it winna, canna be,
Thou, for thine may choose me,
Let me, lassie, quickly die,
Trusting that thou loes me.
Lassie, let me quickly die,
Trusting that thou loes me.
Oh, Wat ye Wha's in qan Town. (350)
TUNE-I'll gae nae mair to yon town.
OH, wat ye wha's in yon town,
Ye see the e'enin' sun upon ? The fairest dame's in yon town,
The e'enin' sun is shining on.
Now haply down you gay green shaw,
She wanders by yon spreading tree;
How blest ye flow'rs that round her blaw,
Ye catch the glances o' her ee!
How blest ye birds that round her sing,
And welcome in the blooming year!
And doubly welcome be the spring,
The season to my Lucy dear.
The sun blinks blythe on yon town,
And on yon bonnie braes of Ayr;
But my delight in yon town,
And dearest bliss, is Lucy fair.
Without my love, not a' the charms
O' Paradise could yield me joy
But gie me Lucy in my arms,
And welcome Lapland's dreary sky!
But lately Seen. TUNE-The Winter of Life.
But lately seen in gladsome green, The woods rejoiced the day;
Thro' gentle showers the laughing flowers, In double pride were gay;
But now our joys are fled
On winter blasts awa!
Yet maiden May, in rich array,
Again shall bring them a'.
But my white pow, nae kindly thowe
Shall melt the snaws of age;
My trunk of eild, but buss or beild,
Sinks in Time's wintry rage.
Oh! age has weary days,
And nights o' sleepless pain! Thou golden time o' youthfu' prime, Why comes thou not again ?
Could aught of Song.
TUNE-Could ought of song.
COULD ought of song declare my pains,
Could artful numbers move thee,
The muse should tell, in labour'd strains,
Oh Mary, how I love thee!
They who but feign a wounded heart
May teach the lyre to languish;
But what avails the pride of art,
When wastes the soul with anguish?
Then let the sudden bursting sigh
The heart-felt pang discover;
And in the keen, yet tender eye,
Oh read th' imploring lover I
For well I know thy gentle mind Disdains art's gay disguising; Beyond what fancy e'er refin'à, The voice of nature prizing.
TUNE-Oh steer her up, and haud her gaun.
Он steer her up and haud her
Her mother's at the mill, jo; And gif she winna take a man,
E'en let her take her will, jo;
First shore her wi' a kindly kiss,
And ca' another gill, jo,
And gif she take the thing amiss,
E'ven let her flyte her fill, jo.
Oh steer her up, and be na blate,
And gif she take it ill, jo,
Then lea'e the lassie till her fate,
And time nae langer spill, jo:
Ne'er break your heart for ane rebute,
But think upon it still, jo;
Then gif the lassie winna do't,
Ye'll find anither will, jo.
When day is gane, and night is come,
And a' folk bound to sleep;
I think on him that's far awa',
The lee-lang night and weep,
My dear;
The lee-lang night and weep.
Oh Why is he that Caes me.
TUNE-Morag.
Or wha is she that loes me,
And has my heart a-keeping?
Oh sweet is she that loes me,
As dews o' simmer weeping,
In tears the rose-buds steeping!
Oh that's the lassie o' my heart
My lassie ever dearer;
Oh that's the queen o' womankind,
And ne'er a ane to peer her.
If thou shalt meet a lassie
In grace and beauty charming,
That e'en thy chosen lassie,
Erewhile thy breast sae warming,
Had ne'er sic powers alarming.
If thou hadst heard her talking,
And thy attentions plighted,
That ilka body talking,
But her by thee is slighted,
And thou art all delighted.
If thou hast met this fair one;
When frae her thou hast parted,
If every other fair one,
But her, thou hast deserted,
And thou art broken-hearted ;
Oh that's the lassie o' my heart,
My lassie ever dearer;
Oh that's the queen o' womankind,
And ne'er a ane to peer her.
Oh, lan thn Toof in Aline, Tass.
TUNE-Cordwainer's March.
OH lay thy loof in mine, lass,
In mine, lass, in mine, lass ;
And swear on thy white hand, lass,
That thou wilt be my ain.
A slave to love's unbounded
sway,
He aft has wrought me meikle wae;
But now he is my deadly fae,
Unless thou be my ain.
There's mony a lass has broke my rest,
That for a blink I hae lo'ed best;
But thou art queen within my breast,
For ever to remain.
Oh lay thy loof in mine, lass,
In mine, lass, in mine, lass :
And swear on thy white hand, lass,
That thou wilt be my ain.
Still as I hail thee, thou gloomy December, Still shall I hail thee wi' sorrow and care; For sad was the parting thou makest me remember,
Parting wi' Nancy, oh! ne'er to meet mair.
Oh Mally's merk, Mally's sweet.
OH Mally's meek, Mally's sweet,
Mally's modest and discreet,
Mally's rare, Mally's fair,
Mally's every way complete.
As I was walking up the street,
A barefit maid I chanc'd to meet;
But oh the road was very
hard
For that fair maiden's tender feet.
It were mair meet that those fine feet
Were weel lac'd up in silken shoon,
And 'twere more fit that she should sit
Within yon chariot gilt aboon.
Her yellow hair, beyond compare,
Comes trinkling down her swan-white neck;
And her two eyes, like stars in skies,
Would keep a sinking ship frae wreck.
Now bank and brae are claith'd in green, And scatter'd cowslips sweetly spring; By Girvan's fairy-haunted stream
The birdies flit on wanton wing.
To Cassillis' banks when e'ening fa's,
There wi' my Mary let me flee,
There catch her ilka glance of love,
The bonnie blink o' Mary's ee!
The child wha boasts o' warld's wealth
Is aften laird o' meikle care;
But Mary she is a' my ain
Ah! fortune cannie gie me mair.
Then let me range by Cassillis' banks,
Wi' her, the lassie dear to me,
And catch her ilka glance o' love,
The bonnie blink o' Mary's ee!
My Lady's Gown, there's Gairs apon't.
TUNE-Gregg's Pipes.
My Lady's gown, there's gairs upon't,
And gowden flowers sae rare upon't;
But Jenny's jimps and jirkinet,
My lord thinks mickle mair upon't.
My lord a-hunting he is gane,
But hounds or hawks wi' him are nane;
By Colin's cottage lies his game,
If Colin's Jenny be at hame.
My lady's white, my lady's red,
And kith and kin o' Cassillis' bluid ;
But her ten-pund lands o' tocher guid
Were a' the charms his lordship loed.
Out owre yon muir, out owre yon moss,
Whare gor-cocks thro' the heather pass,
There wons auld Colin's bonnie lass,
A lily in a wilderness.
Sae sweetly move her gentle limbs,
Like music notes o' lovers' hymns:
The diamond dew is her een sae blue,
Where laughing love sae wanton swims.
My lady's dink, my lady's drest,
The flower and fancy o' the west;
But the lassie that a man loes best,
Oh that's the lass to make him blest.
The Fete Champetre. (352)
TUNE-Killicrankie.
Or wha will to Saint Stephen's house,
To do our errands there, man?
Oh wha will to Saint Stephen's house,
O' th' merry lads of Ayr, man?
Or will we send a man-o'-law?
Or will we send a sodger?
Or him wha led o'er Scotlaud a'
The meikle Ursa-Major?
Come, will ye court a noble lord,
Or buy a score o' lairds, man?
For worth and honour pawn their word,
Their vote shall be Glencaird's, man?
Ane gies them coin, ane gies them wine,
Anither gies them clatter;
Anbank, wha guess'd the ladies' taste,
He gies a Fête Champetre.
When Love and Beauty heard the news,
The gay green-woods amang, man;
Where, gathering flowers and busking bowers,
They heard the blackbird's sang, man :
A vow, they seal'd it with a kiss
Sir Politics to fetter,
As theirs alone, the patent-bliss,
To hold a Fête Champetre.
Then mounted Mirth, on gleesome wing,
Owre hill and dale she flew, man;
Ilk wimpling burn, ilk crystal spring,
Ilk glen and shaw she knew, man :
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