THE RONALDS OF THE BENNALS.

IN Tarbolton, ye ken, there are proper young men, And proper young lasses and a', man ;

But ken ye the Ronalds that live in the Bennals,
They carry the gree* frae them a', man.

Their father's a laird, and weel he can spare't,
Braid money to tocher† them a', man ;
To proper young men, he'll clink ‡ in the hand
Gowd guineas a hunder or twa, man.

There's ane they ca' Jean, I'll warrant ye've seen
As bonie a lass or as braw,§ man ;

But for sense and guid taste she'll vie wi' the best, And a conduct that beautifies a', man.

The charms o' the min', the langer they shine,
The mair àdmiration they draw, man;
While peaches and cherries, and roses and lilies,
They fade and they wither awa, man.

If ye be for Miss Jean, tak this frae a frien',
A hint o' a rival or twa, man;

The Laird o' Blackbyre wad gang through the fire,
If that wad entice her awa, man.

The Laird o' Braehead has been on his speed,
For mair than a towmond || or twa, man;
The Laird o' the Ford will straught on a board,
If he canna get her at a', man.

Then Anna comes in, the pride o' her kin,
The boast of our bachelors a', man:

* pre-eminence.

† marriage-portion.

count.

§ fine.

|| twelvemonth.

Sae sonsy* and sweet, sae fully complete,
She steals our affections awa, man.

If I should detail the pick and the wale
O'lasses that live here awa, man,

The fau't wad be mine if they didna shine
The sweetest and best o' them a', man.

I lo'e her mysel, but darena weel tell,
My poverty keeps me in awe, man ;
For making o' rhymes, and working at times,
Does little or naething at a', man.

Yet I wadna choose to let her refuse,
Nor hae't in her power to say na, man:
For though I be poor, unnoticed, obscure,
My stomach's as proud as them a', man.

Though I canna ride in weel-booted pride,
And flee o'er the hills like a craw, man,
I can haud up my head wi' the best o' the breed,
Though fluttering ever so braw, man.

My coat and my vest, they are Scotch o' the best,
O' pairs o' guid breeks I hae twa, man;
And stockings and pumps to put on my stumps,
And ne'er a wrang steek in them a', man.

My sarks they are few, but five o' them new,
Twal' hundred,1 as white as the snaw, man,
A ten-shillings hat, a Holland cravat;

There are no mony poets sae braw, man.

* buxom.

1 Woven in a reed of 1200 divisions, and therefore considerably coarser than the " 1700 linen" spoken of in Tam o' Shanter.

I never had freens weel stockit in means,
To leave me a hundred or twa, man;
Nae weel-tocher'd aunts, to wait on their drants,*
And wish them in hell for it a', man.

I never was cannie † for hoarding o' money,
Or claughtin't together at a', man ;
I've little to spend, and naething to lend,

But deevil a shilling I awe, man.

[The Bennals is a farm in the western part of the parish of Tarbolton, about five miles from Lochlie. The two young women spoken of in this piece were the predominant belles of the district; being good-looking, fairly educated, and the children of a man reputed wealthy. Gilbert Burns wooed the elder sister, Jeanie Ronald, who refused him on account of his poverty. The younger sister, Anne, appears to have taken the poet's fancy a little; but he was too proud to afford her the same chance.]

SONG-HERE'S TO THY HEALTH.

HERE'S to thy health, my bonie lass,
Gude night and joy be wi' thee;
I'll come nae mair to thy bower-door,
To tell thee that I lo'e thee.
O dinna think, my pretty pink,
But I can live without thee:
I vow and swear I dinna care,
How lang ye look about ye.

Thou'rt ay sae free informing me,
Thou hast nae mind to marry;
I'll be as free informing thee,
Nae time hae I to tarry:

I ken thy freens try ilka means
Frae wedlock to delay thee;
Depending on some higher chance,
But fortune may betray thee.

* long prayers.

† prudent.

+ grasping.

I ken they scorn my low estate,
But that does never grieve me ;
For I'm as free as any he;

Sma' siller will relieve me.

I'll count my health my greatest wealth,
Sae lang as I'll enjoy it ;

I'll fear nae scant, I'll bode nae want,
As lang's I get employment.

But far off fowls hae feathers fair,

And, ay until ye try them,

Tho' they seem fair, still have a care;

They may prove as bad as I am.

But at twel at night, when the moon shines bright, My dear, I'll come and see thee;

For the man that loves his mistress weel,

Nae travel makes him weary.

THE LASS OF CESSNOCK BANKS.

ON Cessnock banks a lassie dwells;
Could I describe her shape and mien ;
Our lasses a' she far excels,

An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een.

She's sweeter than the morning dawn,
When rising Phoebus first is seen;
And dew-drops twinkle o'er the lawn ;
An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een.

She's stately like yon youthful ash,

That grows the cowslip braes between,
And drinks the stream with vigour fresh ;
An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een.

She's spotless like the flow'ring thorn,

With flow'rs so white and leaves so green, When purest in the dewy morn;

An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een.

Her looks are like the vernal May,
When ev'ning Phoebus shines serene ;
While birds rejoice on every spray;
An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een.

Her hair is like the curling mist,

That climbs the mountain-sides at e'en, When flow'r-reviving rains are past; An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een.

Her forehead's like the show'ry bow,
When gleaming sunbeams intervene
And gild the distant mountain's brow;
An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een.

Her cheeks are like yon crimson gem,
The pride of all the flowery scene,
Just opening on its thorny stem ;

An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een.

Her bosom's like the nightly snow,
When pale the morning rises keen ;
While hid the murm'ring streamlets flow;
An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een.

Her lips are like yon cherries ripe,

That sunny walls from Boreas screen; They tempt the taste and charm the sight; An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een.

Her teeth are like a flock of sheep,

With fleeces newly washen clean;