YON WILD MOSSY MOUNTAINS.
TUNE-Yon wild Mossy Mountains.
YON wild mossy mountains sae lofty and wide,
That nurse in their bosom the youth o' the Clyde,
Where the grouse lead their coveys through the heather to feed,
And the shepherd tents his flock as he pipes on his reed.
Not Gowrie's rich valleys, nor Forth's sunny shores,
To me hae the charms yon wild mossy moors;
For there, by a lanely and sequestered stream,
Resides a sweet lassie, my thought and my dream.
Amang thae 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 flee the swift hours o' love.
She is not the fairest, although she is fair;
O' nice education but sma' is her share;
Her parentage humble as humble can be;
But I loe the dear lassie because she loes me.
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 polished her darts,
They dazzle our een, as they flee to our hearts.
But kindness, sweet kindness, in the fond sparkling ee,
Has lustre outshining the diamond to me;
And the heart beating love as I'm clasped in her arms,
Oh, these are my lassie's all-conquering charms!
snub, sore, keep make, stupid
O FOR ANE-AND-TWENTY, TAM.
TUNE-The Moudiewort.
AND O for ane-and twenty, Tam,
And hey, sweet ane-and-twenty, Tam,
I'll learn my kin a rattlin' sang,
An I saw ane-and-twenty, Tam.
They snool me sair, and haud me down,
And gar me look like bluntie, Tam !
But three short years will soon wheel roun'
And then comes ane-and-twenty, Tam.
A gleib o' lan', a claut o' gear,
Was left me by my auntie, Tam;
At kith or kin I needna spier,
An I saw ane-and-twenty, Tam.
They'll hae me wed a wealthy coof,
Though I mysel' hae plenty, Tam;
But hear'st thou, laddie-there's my loof-
I'm thine at ane-and-twenty, Tam.
BESS AND HER SPINNING-WHEEL.
TUNE-The Sweet Lass that loes me.
O LEEZE me on my spinning-wheel,
O leeze me on my rock and reel;
Frae tap to tae that cleeds me bien,
And haps me fiel and warm at e'en!
I'll set me down and sing and spin,
While laigh descends the simmer sun,
Blest wi' content, and milk and meal-
O leeze me on my spinning-wheel!
On ilka band the burnies trot,
And meet below my theekit cot;
The scented birk and hawthorn white,
Across the pool their arms unite,
Alike to screen the birdie's nest,
And little fishes' caller rest:
The sun blinks kindly in the biel',
Where blithe I turn my spinning-wheel.
On lofty aiks the cushats wail,
And echo cons the doolfu' tale;
The lintwhites in the hazel braes,
Delighted, rival ither's lays :
The craik amang the clover hay,
The paitrick whirrin' o'er the ley,
The swallow jinkin' round my shiel,
Amuse me at my spinning-wheel.
Wi' sma' to sell, and less to buy,
Aboon distress, below envy,
top to toe, clothes, wraps, soft [well
every, run thatched birch
oaks, wood-pigeons sorrowful linnets each others land-rail
partridge, grass fields whirling, hut
Oh wha wad leave this humble state,
NITHSDALE'S WELCOME HAME.
THE noble Maxwells and their powers
Are coming o'er the Border,
And they'll gae bigg Terregles towers,
And set them a' in order.
And they declare Terregles fair,
For their abode they choose it;
There's no a heart in a' the land
But's lighter at the news o't.
Though stars in skies may disappear,
And angry tempests gather,
The happy hour may soon be near
That brings us pleasant weather:
The weary night o' care and grief
May hae a joyful morrow;
So dawning day has brought relief-
Fareweel our right sorrow!
COUNTRY LASSIE.
TUNE-The Country Lass.
IN simmer, when the hay was mawn,
And corn waved green in ilka field,
While claver blooms white o'er the lea,
And roses blaw in ilka bield;
Blithe Bessie in the milking shiel,
Says: "I'll be wed, come o't what will."
Out spak a dame in wrinkled eild:
"O' guid advisement comes nae ill.
"It's ye hae wooers mony ane,
And, lassie, ye're but young, ye ken Then wait a wee, and cannie wale
A routhie butt, a routhie ben:
There's Johnnie o' the Buskie Glen,
Fu' is his barn, fu' is his byre;
Tak this frae me, my bonnie hen,
It's plenty beets the luver's fire."
"For Johnnie o' the Buskie Glen,
I dinna care a single flie;
He loes sae weel his craps and kye,
He has nae luve to spare for me:
But blithe's the blink o' Robbie's ee,
And, weel I wat, he loes me dear:
Ae blink o' him I wadna gie
For Buskie Glen and a' his gear.
"O thoughtless lassie, life's a faught; The canniest gate, the strife is sair
aye fou han't is fechtin best,
A hungry care's an unco care.
But some will spend, and some will spare,
And wilfu' folk maun hae their will;
Syne as ye brew, my maiden fair,
Keep mind that ye maun drink the yill."
"O gear will buy me rigs o' land,
And gear will buy me sheep and kye; But the tender heart o' leesome luve The gowd and siller canna buy.
clover, field
blow, every shelter
age good, no have, many know
little, quietly chose well-stored house
well, know, loves one, wouldn't give wealth
quietest road, sore full-handed, fighting
We may be poor-Robbie and I,
Light is the burden luve lays on;
Content and luve brings peace and joy-
What mair hae queens upon a throne?"
Canst thou break his faithfu' heart?
Turn again, thou fair Eliza;
If to love thy heart denies,
For pity hide the cruel sentence,
Under friendship's kind disguise !
Thee, dear maid, hae I offended?
The offence is loving thee:
Canst thou wreck his peace for ever,
Wha for thine wad gladly die?
While the life beats in my bosom,
Thou shalt mix in ilka throe;
Turn again, thou lovely maiden,
Ae sweet smile on me bestow.
Not the bee upon the blossom,
In the pride o' sunny noon;
Not the little sporting fairy,
All beneath the simmer moon:
Not the poet in the moment
Fancy lightens on his ee,
Kens the pleasure, feels the rapture
That thy presence gies to me.
O LUVE will venture in where it daurna weel be seen;
O luve will venture in where wisdom ance has been;
But I will down yon river rove, among the woods sae green—
And a' to pu' a posie to my ain dear May.
The Primrose I will pu', the firstling o' the year,
And I will pu' the Pink, the emblem o' my dear;
For she's the pink o' womankind, and blooms without a peer-
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.
I'll pu' the budding Rose, when Phoebus peeps in view,
For it's like a baumy kiss o' her sweet bonnie mou';
The Hyacinth for constancy, wi' its unchanging blue-
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.
The Lily it is pure, and the Lily it is fair,
And in her lovely bosom I'll place the Lily there;
The Daisy's for simplicity and unaffected air-
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.
The Hawthorn I will pu' wi' its locks o' siller gray,
Where, like an aged man, it stands at break of day;
But the songster's nest within the bush I winna tak away-
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.
The Woodbine I will pu' when the e'ening star is near,
And the diamond draps o' dew shall be her e'en sae clear;
The Violet's for modesty, which weel she fa's to wear-
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.
I'll tie the posie round wi' the silken band o' luve,
And I'll place it in her breast, and I'll swear by a' above,
That to my
latest draught o' life the band shall ne'er remove-
And this shall be a posie to my ain dear May.
THE BANKS OF DOON.
TUNE-Caledonian Hunt's Delight.
YE banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair;
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary fu' o' care!
Thou'lt break my heart, thou warbling bird,
That wantons through the flowering thorn:
Thou minds me o' departed joys,
Departed-never to return!
Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon,
To see the rose and woodbine twine;
And ilka bird sang o' its luve,
And fondly sae did I o' mine.
Wi'-lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree;
And my fause luver stole my rose,
But ah! he left the thorn wi' me.
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