Gied me her promise true, Her brow is like the snaw-drift, That e'er the sun shone on; Like dew on the gowan lying, Her voice is low and sweet, And she's all the world to me; And for bonnie Annie Laurie I'd lay me doun and dee. THE BUSH ABOON TRAQUAIR. ROBERT CRAWFORD. From the "Tea-Table Miscellany," 1724. Traquair is on the bank of the water or river of Quair, in Peebleshire. HEAR me, ye nymphs and ev'ry swain, My vows and sighs, like silent air, That day she smiled, and made me glad, I thought myself the luckiest lad, I tried to soothe my am'rous flame Yet now she scornful flies the plain, Ye rural pow'rs, who hear my strains, DOUN THE BURN, DAVIE. ROBERT Crawford. WHEN trees did bud and fields were green, And broom bloom'd fair to see; When Mary was complete fifteen, And love laugh'd in her ec, Blythe Davie's blinks her heart did move To speak her mind thus free : Now Davie did each lad surpass Her cheeks were rosie, red and white; Her looks were like the morning bright, As doun the burn they took their way An' love was aye the tale. With, "Mary, when shall we return, Sic pleasures to renew ?" Quoth Mary, "Love, I like the burn, This song first appeared in Ramsay's "Tea-Table Miscellany." The last stanza was added by Burns, who was informed by the tradition of his neighbourhood, that the air was the composition of one David Maigh, keeper of the bloodhounds to the Laird of Riddell in Roxburghshire. ONE DAY I HEARD MARY SAY. ROBERT CRAWFORD. From the "Tea-Table Miscellany." ONE day I heard Mary say, How shall I leave thee? Stay, dearest Adonis, stay; why wilt thou grieve me? Say, lovely Adonis, say, has Mary deceived thee? Adonis, my charming youth, what can relieve thee? But leave thee, leave thee, lad, how shall I leave thee? "One day I heard Mary say' is a fine song," says Burns to Thomson; "but for consistency's sake, alter the name of Adonis. Were there ever such banns published as a purpose of marriage between Adonis and Mary?" MY DEARIE, IF THOU DEE. ROBERT CRAWFORD. From the "Tea-Table Miscellany," 1724. Love never more shall give me pain, My fancy's fixed on thee; Nor ever maid my heart shall gain, Thy beauties did such pleasure give, Thy love's so true to me; If fate shall tear thee from my breast, In dreary dreams the night I'll waste, I ne'er can so much virtue find, Nor such perfection see: No new-blown beauty fires my heart With Cupid's raving rage ; But thine, which can such sweets impart, Must all the world engage. 'Twas this that, like the morning sun, Gave joy and life to me; And when its destined day is done, With Peggy let me dee. Ye powers that smile on virtuous love, Restore my Peggie's wonted charms, Those charms so dear to me; Oh, never rob them from those arms- The beautiful air to which this song is sung has been traced back in мs. to the year 1692; but is probably much older. JOHN HAY'S BONNIE LASSIE. From the "Tea-Table Miscellany." By smooth-winding Tay a swain was reclining, To my bonny Hay that I am her lover! Nae mair it will hide, the flame waxes stranger; She's fresh as the spring, and sweet as Aurora, But if she appears where verdure invites her, The fountains run clear, and the flowers smell the sweeter; For a' my desire is John Hay's bonnie lassie. Mr. Chambers states that there is a tradition in Roxburghshire that this song was written by a carpenter or joiner in honour of a daughter of John Hay, first Marquis of Tweeddale. JOHN HAY'S BONNIE MARY. From Peter Buchan's manuscript collection of ancient and traditional Scottish songs. As I gaed down an' farther down, An' down into a cellar, There I saw the bonniest lass Was writing a letter. She was writing an' inditing, And losing her colour, |