THE RANTIN DOG THE DADDIE O'T.

THERE'S A YOUTH IN THIS CITY.

TUNE "NEIL GOW'S LAMENT."

THERE's a youth in this city, it were a great pity,
That he from our lasses should wander awa;
For he's bonnic and braw, weel favour'd witha',
And his hair has a natural buckle and a'.
His coat is the hue of his bonnet sae blue;

His fecket' is white as the new-driven snaw;
His hose they are blae, and his shoon like the slae,
And his clear siller buckles they dazzle us a'.

His coat is the hue, &c.

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For beauty and fortune the laddie's been courtin;
Weel-featur'd, weel-tocher'd, weel-mounted and braw;
But chiefly the siller, that gars him gang till her,
The pennie's the jewel that beautifies a'.

There's Meg wi' the mailin, that fain wad a haen him,
And Susy whase daddy was Laird o' the ha';
There's lang-tocher'd Nancy maist fetters his fancy,
-But the laddie's dear sel he lo'es dearest of a'.

THE RANTIN DOG THE DADDIE O'T."
TUNE-"EAST NOOK O' FIFE." ""

O WHA my babie-clouts will buy?
Wha will tent me when I cry?
Wha will kiss me whare I lie?

The rantin dog the daddie o't.
Wha will own he did the faut?
Wha will buy my groanin maut?
Wha will tell me how to ca't?

The rantin dog the daddie o't.
When I mount the creepie-chair,
Wha will sit beside me there?
Gie me Rob, I seek nae mair,

The rantin dog the daddie o't.
Wha will crack to me my lane?
Wha will mak me fidgin fain?"
Wha will kiss me o'er again?

The rantin dog the daddie o't.

1 An under waistcoat having sleeves.

I composed this song pretty early in life, and sent it to a young girl, a very particular acquaintance of mine, who was at the time under a cloud.-R. B. The " young girl" was Elizabeth Paton.

3 Tickled with pleasure.

I DO CONFESS THOU ART SAE FAIR.

I DO confess thou art sae fair,

I wad been o'er the lugs' in luve;
Had I not found the slightest prayer,

That lips could speak, thy heart could muve.

I do confess thee sweet, but find

Thou art sae thriftless o' thy sweets,

Thy favours are the silly wind

That kisses ilka thing it meets.

See yonder rose-bud rich in dew,
Amang its native briers sae coy,
How soon it tines its scent and hue,
When pu'd and worn a common toy!

Sic fate ere lang shall thee betide;
Though thou may gaily bloom awhile
Yet soon thou shalt be thrown aside,
Like ony common weed and vile.

YON WILD MOSSY MOUNTAİNS.

YON wild mossy mountains, sae lofty and wide,
That nurse in their bosom the youth o' the Clyde,
Where the grouse lead their coveys thro' the heather to

feed,

And the shepherd tents his flocks, as he pipes on his reed.
Where the grouse, &c.

Not Gowrie's rich valley, nor Forth's sunny shores
To me hae the charms o' yon wild mossy moors;
For there, by a lanely, sequester'd, clear stream,
Resides a sweet lassie, my thought and my dream.

Amang the wild mountains shall still be my path,
Ilk stream foaming down its ain green narrow strath;
For there, wi' my lassie, the day lang I rove,
While o'er us, unheeded, fly the swift hours o' love.

She is not the fairest, altho' she is fair;
O' nice education but sma' is her share;
Her parentage humble as humble can be;

But I lo'e the dear lassie, because she lo'es me.

Ears.

WHA IS THAT AT MY Bower door, ETC. 319
To beauty what man but maun yield him a prize,
In her armour of glances, and blushes, and sighs?
And when wit and refinement hae polish'd her darts,
They dazzle our een, as they fly to our hearts.

But kindness, sweet kindness, in the fond sparkling e'e,
Has lustre out-shining the diamond to me;
And the heart-beating love, as I'm clasp'd in her arms,→
O, these are my lassie's all-conquering charms!

WHA IS THAT AT MY BOWER DOOR?

WHA is that at my bower door?
O wha is it but Findlay;

Then gae your gate, ye'se nae be here!
Indeed maun I, quo' Findlay.

What mak ye sae like a thief?

O come and see, quo' Findlay;
Before the morn ye'll work mischief;
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.

Gif I rise and let you in;

Let me in, quo' Findlay;
Ye'll keep me waukin' wi' your din;
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.
In my bower if ye should stay;
Let me stay, quo' Findlay;
I fear ye'll bide till break o' day;
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.

Here this night if ye remain;
I'll remain, quo' Findlay;
I dread ye'll learn the gate again;
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.
What may pass within this bower-
Let it pass, quo' Findlay;

Ye maun conceal till your last hour;
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.

FAREWELL TO NANCY.1

AE fond kiss, and then we sever!
Ae fareweel, alas, for ever!

Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee!
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.

1 Supposed to have been addressed to Clarindą.

Who shall say that fortune grieves him,
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me;
Dark despair around benights me.

I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy,
Naething could resist my Nancy;
But to see her, was to love her;
Love but her, and love for ever.
Had we never lov'd sae kindly,
Had we never loved sae blindly,
Never met-or never parted,

We had ne'er been broken-hearted!

Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest!
Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest!
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure.
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae fareweel, alas, for ever!

Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.

THE BONNIE BLINK O' MARY'S E’E. Now bank an' brae are claith'd in green, An' scattered 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 o' love, The bonnie blink o' Mary's e'e!

The chield wha boasts o' warld's wealth, Is often laird o' meikle care;

But Mary she is a' my ain,

Ah, fortune canna 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 e'e!

THE GOWDEN LOCKS OF ANNA.

OUT OVER THE FORTH.

OUT over the Forth I look to the north,

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But what is the north and its Highlands to me? The south nor the east gie ease to my breast, The far foreign land, or the wild rolling sea. But I look to the west, when I gae to rest, That happy my dreams and my slumbers may be; For far in the west lives he I lo'e best,

The lad that is dear to my babie and me.

THE BONNIE LAD THAT'S FAR AWA.
TUNE-"OWRE THE HILLS AND FAR AWA."

O How can I be blithe and glad,
Or how can I gang brisk and braw,
When the bonnie lad that I lo'e best
Is o'er the hills and far awa?

It's no the frosty winter wind,
It's no the driving drift and snaw;
But ay the tear comes in my e'e,
To think on him that's far awa.

My father pat me frae his door,

My friends they hae disown'd me a';
But I hae ane will take my part,
The bonnie lad that's far awa.

A pair o' gloves he gae to me,
And silken snoods' he gae me twa;
And I will wear them for his sake,
The bonnie lad that's far awa.

The weary winter soon will pass,

And spring will cleed' the birken-shaw;

And my sweet babie will be born,

And he'll come hame that's far awa

THE GOWDEN LOCKS OF ANNA.
TUNE-"BANKS OF BANNA."

YESTREEN I had a pint o' wine,
A place where body saw na';
Yestreen lay on this breast o' mine
The gowden locks of Anna.

Ribands for binding the hair.

* Clothe.