Imagens das páginas

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 loed 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.



TUNE-The Posie.

On luve will venture in where it daurna weel

be seen; Oh luve will venture in where wisdom ance

has been; But I will down yon river rove, among the

wood 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 peerAnd 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 The hyacinth for constancy, wi’ its unchange

ing blueAnd 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


And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.

The hawthorn I will pu' wi' its locks o'siller

grey, Wbere, like an aged man, it stands at break

of day. But the songster's nest within the bush I

winna tak awayAnd a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.



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.



TUNE-Ny Tocher's the Jewel.

Oh meikle thinks my luve o' my beauty,

And meikle thinks my luve of my kin; But little thinks my luve I can brawlie My tocher's the jewel has charms for

him, It's a' for the apple he'll nourish the tree;

It's a' for the hiney he'll cherish the


My laddie's sae meikle in luve wi’ the siller,

He canna hae luve to spare for me.

Your proffer o' luve's an arle-penny,

My tocher's the bargain ye wad buy; But an' ye be crafty, I am cunnin',

Sae ye wi' another your fortune maun try. Ye're like to the timmer o'yon rotten wood,

Ye're like to the bark o'yon rotten tree, Ye'll slip frae me like a knotless thread,

And ye'll crack your credit wi' mae nor me.


TUNE-Graham's Strathspey.
Oh, my luve's like a red, red rose,

That's newly sprung in June :
Oh, my luve's like the melodie,

That's sweetly play'd in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,

Till a' the seas gang dry.
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,

And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
I will luve thee still, my dear,

While the sands o' life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only luve!

And fare thee weel a while !
And I will come again, my luve,

Tho' it were ten thousand mile.


TUNE-I had a Horse. On poortith cauld, and restless love,

Ye wreck my peace between ye; Yet poortith a' I could forgive,

An 'twere na for my Jeanie. Oh why should fate sic pleasure have,

Life's dearest bands untwining? Or why sae sweet a flower as love,

Depend on Fortune's shining ? This warld's wealth when I think on,

Its pride, and a' the lave o't;
Fie, fie on silly coward man,
That he should be the slave o't,

Oh why, &c.
Her een sae bonnie blue betray

How she repays my passion ;
But prudence is her o'erword aye,
She talks of rank and fashion.

Oh why, &c.
Oh wha can prudence think upon,

And sic a lassie by him?
Oh wha can prudence think upon,
And sae in love as I am ?

Oh why, &c.
How blest the humble cotter's fate!

He wooes his simple dearie ; The silly bogles, wealth and state, Can never make them eerie.

Oh why, &c.

« AnteriorContinuar »