Tune-Up wi' the ploughman.” THE ploughman he's a bonnie lad, His bonnet it is blue, jo. Then up wi' my ploughman lad, Commend me to the ploughman. My ploughman he comes hame at e’en, Then up wimy ploughman lad, &c. I ha'e been east, I ha'e been west, Then up wi' my ploughman lad, &c. Shaw-white stockin' on his legs, The y . my ploughman lad, &c. LANDLADY, COUNT THE LAWIN. [The first two stanzas, less the refrain, are Burns's composition, the concluding stanza being preserved by him intact from an old political bacchanalian.] Tune-"Hey tutti, taiti." Cog, an' ye were aye fou, Weel may ye a be! Hey turti, taiti, Wha's fou now?] [These stanzas were composed, as Burns him- THE BLUDE-RED ROSE AT YULE self informs us, in celebration of the charms of Miss Euphemia Murray of Lintrose, deservedly well known through all the countryside as the Flower of Strathmore. She was married in 1794 to David Smith of Methuen, Esquire, a Judge of the Court of Session, and as such entitled Lord Methuen, by whom she became the mother of a numerous family.] Tune-"Andrew and his cutty gun." By Auchtertyre grows the aik; Blithe, blithe, and merry was she, And blithe in Glenturit glen. MAY BLAW. this was unquestionably one of Burns's produc[Though never distinctly claimed as his own, tions.] Tune-"To daunton me." THE blude-red rose at Yule may blaw, me. To daunton me, and me sae young, That is the thing you ne'er shall see; me. Ere twice the shades o' dawn are fled, It scents the early morning. Sae early in the morning. She soon shall see her tender brood, The pride, the pleasure o the wood, Amang the fresh green leaves bedewed, Awake the early morning. So thou, dear bird, young Jeanie fair! On trembling string, or vocal air, Shall sweetly pay the tender care That tends thy early morning. So thou, sweet rosebud, young and gay, Shalt beauteous blaze upon the day, And bless the parent's evening ray That watched thy early morning. But parting wi' his fiddle, The saut tear blin't his e'e; And rattlin', roarin' Willie, Ye're welcome hame to me! O Willie, come sell your fiddle, If I should sell my fiddle, The warl' would think I was mad; For mony a rantin' day My fiddle and I ha'e had.] As I cam' by Crochallan, I cannily keekit benRattlin', roarin' Willie Sitting at yon board en', Was sitting at yon board en'; And amang guid companie ; [Rattlin', roarin' Willie, Ye're welcome hame to me!] the worthiest fellows in the world, as the Poet dubs him, William Dunbar, Writer to the Signet in Edinburgh, and Colonel of the Crochallan Corps, a club of wits and boon companions, who facetiously assumed that title at the period of the raising of the fencible regiments of volunteers.] Tune-" Rattlin', roarin' Willie." An' buy some other ware; BRAVING ANGRY WINTER'S STORMS. [This was written in honour of Margaret Chalmers, who, two years afterwards, married Lewis Hays, a partner in the banking firm of Forbes and Company at Edinburgh.] Tune-"Neil Gow's Lamentation for Aler cairny." WHERE, braving angry winter's storms, Far in their shade my Peggy's charms |