Chapter I: Gaed a Waefu' Gate Yestreen

Air--"_The blue-eyed lass."_

[This blue-eyed lass was Jean Jeffry, daughter to the minister of Lochmaben: she was then a rosy girl of seventeen, with winning manners and laughing blue eyes. She is now Mrs. Renwick, and lives in New York.]

I.

I gaed a waefu' gate yestreen,
A gate, I fear, I'll dearlie rue;
I gat my death frae twa sweet een,
Twa lovely een o' bonnie blue.
'Twas not her golden ringlets bright;
Her lips, like roses, wat wi' dew,
Her heaving bosom, lily-white--
It was her een sae bonnie blue.

II.

She talk'd, she smil'd, my heart she wyl'd;
She charm'd my soul--I wist na how:
And ay the stound, the deadly wound,
Cam frae her een sae bonnie blue.
But spare to speak, and spare to speed;
She'll aiblins listen to my vow:
Should she refuse, I'll lay my dead
To her twa een sae bonnie blue.

* * * * *

XCII.

THE BANKS OF NITH.

Tune--"_Robie donna Gorach._"

[The command which the Comyns held on the Nith was lost to the Douglasses: the Nithsdale power, on the downfall of that proud name, was divided; part went to the Charteris's and the better portion to the Maxwells: the Johnstones afterwards came in for a share, and now the Scots prevail.]

I.

The Thames flows proudly to the sea,
Where royal cities stately stand;
But sweeter flows the Nith, to me,
Where Comyns ance had high command:
When shall I see that honour'd land,
That winding stream I love so dear!
Must wayward Fortune's adverse hand
For ever, ever keep me here?

II.

How lovely, Nith, thy fruitful vales,
Where spreading hawthorns gaily bloom!
How sweetly wind thy sloping dales,
Where lambkins wanton thro' the broom!
Tho' wandering now, must be my doom,
Far from thy bonnie banks and braes,
May there my latest hours consume,
Amang the friends of early days!

* * * * *

XCIII.

MY HEART IS A-BREAKING, DEAR TITTIE.

Tune--"_Tam Glen._"

[Tam Glen is the title of an old Scottish song, and older air: of the former all that remains is a portion of the chorus. Burns when he wrote it sent it to the Museum.]

I.

My heart is a-breaking, dear Tittie!
Some counsel unto me come len',
To anger them a' is a pity,
But what will I do wi' Tam Glen?

II.

I'm thinking wi' sic a braw fellow,
In poortith I might make a fen';
What care I in riches to wallow,
If I maunna marry Tam Glen?

III.

There's Lowrie the laird o' Dumeller,
"Gude day to you, brute!" he comes ben:
He brags and he blaws o' his siller,
But when will he dance like Tam Glen?

IV.

My minnie does constantly deave me,
And bids me beware o' young men;
They flatter, she says, to deceive me,
But wha can think so o' Tam Glen?

V.

My daddie says, gin I'll forsake him,
He'll gie me guid hunder marks ten:
But, if it's ordain'd I maun take him,
O wha will I get but Tam Glen?

VI.

Yestreen at the Valentine's dealing,
My heart to my mou' gied a sten;
For thrice I drew ane without failing,
And thrice it was written--Tam Glen.

VII.

The last Halloween I was waukin
My droukit sark-sleeve, as ye ken;
His likeness cam up the house staukin,
And the very grey breeks o' Tam Glen!

VIII.

Come counsel, dear Tittie! don't tarry--
I'll gie you my bonnie black hen,
Gif ye will advise me to marry
The lad that I lo'e dearly, Tam Glen.

* * * * *

XCIV.

FRAE THE FRIENDS AND LAND I LOVE.

Air--"_Carron Side._"

[Burns says, "I added the four last lines, by way of giving a turn to the theme of the poem, such as it is." The rest of the song is supposed to be from the same hand: the lines are not to be found in earlier collections.]

I.

Frae the friends and land I love,
Driv'n by fortune's felly spite,
Frae my best belov'd I rove,
Never mair to taste delight;
Never mair maun hope to find,
Ease frae toil, relief frae care:
When remembrance wracks the mind,
Pleasures but unveil despair.

II.

Brightest climes shall mirk appear,
Desert ilka blooming shore,
Till the Fates, nae mair severe,
Friendship, love, and peace restore;
Till Revenge, wi' laurell'd head,
Bring our banish'd hame again;
And ilka loyal bonnie lad
Cross the seas and win his ain.

* * * * *

XCV.

SWEET CLOSES THE EVENING.

Tune--"_Craigie-burn-wood._"

[This is one of several fine songs in honour of Jean Lorimer, of Kemmis-hall, Kirkmahoe, who for some time lived on the banks of the Craigie-burn, near Moffat. It was composed in aid of the eloquence of a Mr. Gillespie, who was in love with her: but it did not prevail, for she married an officer of the name of Whelpdale, lived with him for a month or so: reasons arose on both sides which rendered separation necessary; she then took up her residence in Dumfries, where she had many opportunities of seeing the poet. She lived till lately.]

CHORUS.

Beyond thee, dearie, beyond thee, dearie,
And O, to be lying beyond thee;
O sweetly, soundly, weel may he sleep
That's laid in the bed beyond thee!

I.

Sweet closes the evening on Craigie-burn-wood,
And blithely awaukens the morrow;
But the pride of the spring in the Craigie-burn-wood
Can yield to me nothing but sorrow.

II.

I see the spreading leaves and flowers,
I hear the wild birds singing;
But pleasure they hae nane for me,
While care my heart is wringing.

III.

I canna tell, I maunna tell,
I darena for your anger;
But secret love will break my heart,
If I conceal it langer.

IV.

I see thee gracefu', straight, and tall,
I see thee sweet and bonnie;
But oh! what will my torments be,
If thou refuse thy Johnnie!

V.

To see thee in anither's arms,
In love to lie and languish,
'Twad be my dead, that will be seen,
My heart wad burst wi' anguish.

VI.

But, Jeanie, say thou wilt be mine,
Say, thou lo'es nane before me;
And a' my days o' life to come
I'll gratefully adore thee.
Beyond thee, dearie, beyond thee, dearie,
And O, to be lying beyond thee;
O sweetly, soundly, weel may he sleep
That's laid in the bed beyond thee!

* * * * *

XCVI.

COCK UP YOUR BEAVER.

Tune--"_Cock up your beaver._"

["Printed," says Sir Harris Nicolas, "in the Musical Museum, but not with Burns's name." It is an old song, eked out and amended by the poet: all the last verse, save the last line, is his; several of the lines too of the first verse, have felt his amending hand: he communicated it to the Museum.]

I.

When first my brave Johnnie lad
Came to this town,
He had a blue bonnet
That wanted the crown;
But now he has gotten
A hat and a feather,--
Hey, brave Johnnie lad,
Cock up your beaver!

II.

Cock up your beaver,
And cock it fu' sprush,
We'll over the border
And gie them a brush;
There's somebody there
We'll teach better behaviour--
Hey, brave Johnnie lad,
Cock up your beaver!

* * * * *

XCVII.

MEIKLE THINKS MY LUVE.

Tune--"_My tocher's the jewel._"

[These verses were written by Burns for the Museum, to an air by Oswald: but he wished them to be sung to a tune called "Lord Elcho's favourite," of which he was an admirer.]

I.

O Meikle thinks my luve o' my beauty,
And meikle thinks my luve o' my kin;
But little thinks my luve I ken 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 bee;
My laddie's sae meikle in luve wi' the siller,
He canna hae lure to spare for me.

II.

Your proffer o' luve's an airl-penny,
My tocher's the bargain ye wad buy;
But an ye be crafty, I am cunnin',
Sae ye wi' anither your fortune maun try.
Ye're like to the timmer o' yon rotten tree,
Ye'll slip frae me like a knotless thread,
And ye'll crack your credit wi' mae nor me.

* * * * *

XCVIII.

GANE IS THE DAY.

Tune--"_Gudewife count the lawin._"

[The air as well as words of this song were furnished to the Museum by Burns. "The chorus," he says, "is part of an old song."]

I.

Gane is the day, and mirk's the night,
But we'll ne'er stray for fau't o' light,
For ale and brandy's stars and moon,
And blude-red wine's the rising sun.
Then gudewife count the lawin,
The lawin, the lawin;
Then gudewife count the lawin,
And bring a coggie mair!

II.

There's wealth and ease for gentlemen,
And simple folk maun fight and fen;
But here we're a' in ae accord,
For ilka man that's drunk's a lord.

III.

My coggie is a haly pool,
That heals the wounds o' care and dool;
And pleasure is a wanton trout,
An' ye drink but deep ye'll find him out.
Then gudewife count the lawin;
The lawin, the lawin,
Then gudewife count the lawin,
And bring a coggie mair!

* * * * *

XCIX.

THERE'LL NEVER BE PEACE.

Tune--"_There art few gude fellows when Willie's awa._"

[The bard was in one of his Jacobitical moods when he wrote this song. The air is a well known one, called "There's few gude fellows when Willie's awa." But of the words none, it is supposed, are preserved.]

I.

By yon castle wa', at the close of the day,
I heard a man sing, though his head it was gray;
And as he was singing the tears down came,
There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame.
The church is in ruins, the state is in jars;
Delusions, oppressions, and murderous wars:
We darena weel say't, though we ken wha's to blame,
There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame!

II.

My seven braw sons for Jamie drew sword,
And now I greet round their green beds in the yerd.
It brak the sweet heart of my faithfu' auld dame--
There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame.
Now life is a burthen that bows me down,
Since I tint my bairns, and he tint his crown;
But till my last moments my words are the same--
There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame!

* * * * *

C.

HOW CAN I BE BLYTHE AND GLAD?

Tune--"_The bonnie lad that's far awa._"

[This lamentation was written, it is said, in allusion to the sufferings of Jean Armour, when her correspondence with Burns was discovered by her family.]

I.

O how can I be blythe 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?
When the bonnie lad that I lo'e best
Is o'er the hills and far awa.

II.

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.
But ay the tear comes in my e'e,
To think on him that's far awa.

III.

My father pat me frae his door,
My friends they line disown'd me a',
But I hae ane will tak' my part,
The bonnie lad that's far awa.
But I hae ane will tak' my part,
The bonnie lad that's far awa.

IV.

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.
And I will wear them for his sake,
The bonnie lad that's far awa.

V.

O weary Winter soon will pass,
And spring will cleed the birken shaw;
And my young babie will be born,
And he'll be hame that's far awa.
And my young babie will be born,
And he'll be hame that's far awa.

* * * * *

CI.