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Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and sought me for his

bride ; But saving a croun he had naething else beside : To make the croun a pund, young Jamie gaed to sea ; And the croun and the pund were baith for me. He hadna been awa' a week but only twa, When my father brak his arm, and the cow was

stown awa; My mother she fell sick, and my Jamie at the seaAnd auld Robin Gray came a-courtin' me. My father couldna work, and my mother couldna spin ; I toil'd day and night, but their bread I couldna win ; Auld Rob maintain'd them baith, and wi' tears in his

e'e Said, Jennie, for their sakes, O, marry me ! My heart it said nay ; I look'd for Jamie back; But the wind it blew high, and the ship it was a

wrack; His ship it was a wrack-why didna Jamie dee? Or why do I live to cry, Wae's me? My father urgit sair : my mother didna speak; But she look'd in my face till my heart was like to

break : They gi'ed him my hand, but my heart was at the sea ; Sae auld Robin Gray he was gudeman to me. I hadna been a wife a week but only four, When mournfu' as I sat on the stane at the door, I saw my Jamie's wraith, for I couldna think it he Till he said, I'm come hame to marry thee. O sair, sair did we greet, and muckle did we say ; We took but ae kiss, and I bad him gang away ; I wish that I were dead, but I'm no like to dee ; And why was I born to say, Wae's me! I gang like a ghaist, and I carena to spin ; I daurna think on Jamie, for that wad be a sin; But I'll do my best a gude wife aye to be, For auld Robin Gray he is kind unto me.

Lady A. Lindsay



Duncan Gray cam here to woo,

Ha, ha, the wooing o't; On blythe Yule night when we were fou,

Ha, ha, the wooing o't : Maggie coost her head fu' high, Look'd asklent and unco skeigh, Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh ;

Ha, ha, the wooing o't ! Duncan feech'd, and Duncan pray’d; Meg was deaf as Ailsa Craig ; Duncan sigh'd baith out and in, Grat his een baith bleer't and blin', Spak o' lowpin ower a linn! Time and chance are but a tide, Slighted love is sair to bide ; Shall I, like a fool, quoth he, For a haughty hizzie dee? She may gae to~France for me ! How it comes let doctors tell, Meg grew sick-as he grew well ; Something in her bosom wrings, For relief a sigh she brings ! And O, her een, they spak sic things ! Duncan was a lad o'grace ; Maggie's was a piteous case ; Duncan couldna be her death, Swelling pity smoor'd his wrath ; Now they're crouse and canty baith : Ha, ha, the wooing o't!

R. Burns



And are ye sure the news is true ?

And are ye sure he's weel?
Is this the time to think o' wark?

Ye jades, lay by your wheel ;
Is this the time to spin a thread,

When Colin's at the door ?
Reach down my cloak, I'll to the quay, .

And see him come ashore.
For there's nae luck about the house,

There's nae luck at a';
There's little pleasure in the house

When our gudeman's awa'.
And gie to me my bigonet,

My bishop's satin gown;
For I maun tell the baillie's wife

That Colin's in the town.
My Turkey slippers maun gae on,

My stockins pearly blue ;
It's a' to pleasure our gudeman,

For he's baith leal and true.
Rise, lass, and mak a clean fireside,

Put on the muckle pot ;
Gie little Kate her button gown

And Jock his Sunday coat;
And mak their shoon as black as slaes,

Their hose as white as snaw ;
It's a' to please my ain gudeman,

For he's been long awa.
There's twa fat hens upo' the coop

Been fed this month and mair;
Mak haste and thraw their necks about,

That Colin weel may fare ;
And spread the table neat and clean,

Gar ilka thing look braw,
For wha can tell how Colin fared

When he was far awa ?

Sae true his heart, sae smooth his speech.

His breath like caller air ; His very foot has music in't

As he comes up the stair--
And will I see his face again ?

And will I hear him speak ?
I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought,

In troth I'm like to greet !
if Colin's weel, and weel content,

I hae nae mair to crave :
And gin I live to keep him sae,

I'm blest aboon the lave :
And will I see his face again,

And will I hear him speak ?
I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought,

In troth I'm like to greet.
For there's nae luck about the house,

There's nae luck at a';
There's little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman's awa'.

W. J. Mickle



When I think on the happy days

I spent wi' you, my dearie ;
And now what lands between us lie

How can I be but eerie !

How slow ye move, ye heavy hours,

As ye were wae and weary ! It was na sae ye glinted by When I was wi' my dearie.



Of a' the airts the wind can blaw

I dearly like the West,
For there the bonnie lassie lives,

The lassie I lo'e best :
There wild woods grow, and rivers row,

And mony a hill between ;
But day and night my fancy's Hight

Is ever wi' my Jean.
I see her in the dewy flowers,

I see her sweet and fair :
I hear her in the tunefu' birds,

I hear her charm the air :
There's not a bonnie flower that springs

By fountain, shaw, or green,
There's not a bonnie bird that sings

But minds me o' my Jean.
O blaw ye westlin winds, blaw saft

Amang the leafy trees;
Wi' balmy gale, frae hill and dale

Bring hame the laden bees;
And bring the lassie back to me

That's aye sae neat and clean ; Ae smile oher wad banish care,

Sae charming is my Jean.
What sighs and vows amang the knowes

Hae pass'd atween us twa !
How fond to meet, how wae to part

That night she gaed awa !
The Powers aboon can only ken

To whom the heart is seen,
That nane can be sae dear to me
As my sweet lovely Jean !

R. Burns

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