Imagens das páginas

I hae been blythe wi' comrades dear ;

I hae been merry drinkin;
I hae been joyfu' gath'rin gear;

I hae been happy thinkin :
But a' the pleasures e'er I saw,

Tho' three times doubl’d fairly, That happy night was worth them a?,

Amang the rigs o' barley.

Corn rigs, an' barley rigs,

An' corn rigs are bonnie.
I'll ne'er forget that happy night,

Amang the rigs wi' Annie.



Tune, 'I had a horse, I had nae mair.'

Now westling winds, and slaughtring guns

Bring autumn's pleasant weather ;
The moorcock springs, on whirring wings,

Amang the blooming heather :
Now waving grain, wide o'er the plain,

Delights the weary farmer;
And the moon shines bright, when I rove at night,

To muse upon my charmer. VOL. XXXVIII.



The partridge loves the fruitful fells;

The plover loves the mountains ; The woodcock haunts the lonely dells;

The soaring hern the fountains : Thro’ lofty groves the cushat roves

The path of man to shun it; The hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush,

The spreading thorn the linnet.



Thus ev'ry kind their pleasure find,

The savage and the tender: Some social join, and leagues combine ;

Some solitary wander: Avaunt, away! the cruel sway,

Tyrannic man's dominion ; The sportman's joy, the murd’ring cry,

The fluttring, gory pinion !

But Peggy dear, the ev'ning's clear,

Thick fies the skimming swallow;
The sky is blue, the fields in view,

All fading-green and yellow:
Come let us stray our gladsome way,

And view the charms of nature ;
The rustling corn, the fruited thorn,

And every happy creature.

We'll gently walk, and sweetly talk,

Till the silent moon shine clearly;

[ocr errors]

I'll grasp thy waist, and, fondly prest,

Swear how I love thee dearly:
Not vernal show'rs to budding flow'rs,

Not autumn to the farmer,
So dear can be as thou to me,

My fair, my lovely charmer!

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors]

BEHIND yon hills where LUGAR* flows,

'Mang moors an’ mosses many, 0, The wintry sun the day has clos'd,

And I'll awa to Nannie, 0.

The westlin wind blaws loud and shill;

The night's baith mirk and rainy, 0; But I'll get my plaid, an' out I'll steal,

An' owre the hills to Nannie, 0.


My Nannie's charming, sweet, an' young;

Nae artfu' wiles to win ye, 0 : May ill befa' the flattering tongue

That wad beguile my Nannie, 0.

* Originally, Stinchar.

Her face is fair, her heart is true,

As spotless as she's bonnie, 0:
The op’ning gowan, wet wi' dew,

Nae purer is than Nannie, 0.

A country lad is my degree,

An' few there be that ken me, 0;
But what care I how few they be,

I'm welcome ay to Nannie, 0.

My riches a's my penny-fee,

An' I maun guide it cannie, 0;
But warl's gear ne'er troubles me,

My thoughts are a' my Nannie, 0.

Our auld Guidman delights to view

His sheep an' kye thrive bonnie, 0; But I'm as blythe that hauds his pleugh,

An' has nae care but Nannie, 0.

Come weel, come woe, I care na by,

l'll tak what Heav'n will sen' me, Q; Nae ither care in life have 1,

But live, an’ love my Nannie, 0.




Green grow

the rashes, O!
Green grow the rashes, 0!
The sweetest hours that e'er I spent,

Are spent amang the lasses, O!


THERE's nought but care on ev'ry han',

In ev'ry hour that passes, O;
What signifies the life of man,
An' 'twere na for the lasses, 0.

Green grow, &c.

The warly race may riches chase,

An' riches still may fly them, 0;
An' tho’ at last they catch them fast,
Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O.

Green grow, &c.

But gie me a canny hour at e'en,

My arms about my dearie, 0;
An' warly cares, an' warly men,
May a' gae tapsalteerie, O!

Green grow, &c.

« AnteriorContinuar »