WHA IS THAT AT MY BOWER DOOR?

TUNE- Lass, an' I come near thee.

"Mr. Gilbert Burns told the editor (Cromek) that this song was suggested to his brother by the Auld Man's Address to the Widow, printed in Ramsay's TeaTable Miscellany, which the poet first heard sung by Jean Wilson, a silly old widow-woman, then living at Torbolton, remarkable for the simplicity and naïveté of her character, and for singing old Scotch songs with a peculiar energy and earnestness of manner. Having outlived her family, she still retained the form of family worship; and before she sang a hymn, she would gravely give out the first line of the verse, as if she had a numerous audience, to the great diversion of her listening neighbors."- CRomek.

WHA is that at my bower door?

O wha is it but Findlay:

Then gae your gate, ye's nae be here way
Indeed maun I, quo' Findlay.

What mak ye, sae like a thief?

O come and see, quo' Findlay:
Before the morn ye'll work mischief;
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.

Gif I rise and let you in,

Let me in, quo' Findlay:
Ye'll keep me waukin' wi' your din;
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.
In my bower if ye should stay,
Let me stay, quo' Findlay:
I fear ye'll bide till break o' day;
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.

Here this night if ye remain,
I'll remain, quo' Findlay:
I dread ye'll learn the gate again;
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.
What may pass within this bower,
Let it pass, quo' Findlay:

Ye maun conceal till your last hour;
Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.

THE TITHER MORN.

To a Highland air.

THE tither morn, when I forlorn
Aneath an aik sat moaning,
I did na trow, I'd see my jo,
Beside me, 'gain the gloaming.

dear

towards

But he sae trig, lap o'er the rig,
And dawtingly did cheer me,
When I, what-reck, did least expec',
To see my lad so near me.

His bonnet he, a thought ajee,
Cocked sprush when first he clasped me;
And I, I wat, wi' fainness grat,

While in his grips, he pressed me.
Deil tak the war! I late and air,
Hae wished, since Jock departed;
But now as glad I'm wi' my lad,
As short syne broken-hearted.

Fu' aft at e'en wi' dancing keen,
When a' were blithe and merry,
I cared na by, sae sad was I,

In absence o my dearie.

1 lige

caressingly

nevertheless

on one side

spruce

gladness-wept

a little while ago

But, praise be blest, my mind's at rest,

I'm happy wi' my Johnny:

At kirk and fair, I'se aye be there,

And be as canty's ony.

about it

merry

AS I WAS A-WANDERING.

TUNE-Rinn Meudial mo Mhealladh.

Burns has here merely made some changes upon an old song, and it is questionable if his alterations are improvements.

As I was a-wandering ae midsummer e'enin', The pipers and youngsters were making their

game,

Amang them I spied my faithless fause lover, Which bled a' the wounds o' my dolour

again.

Weel, since he has left me, may pleasure gae wi' him,

I may be distressed, but I winna com

plain;

I flatter my fancy I may get anither,
My heart it shall never be broken for

Had I na got greetin', my heart wad ha' broken,

For oh love forsaken's a tormenting pain.

Although he has left me for greed o' the siller,
I dinna envy him the gains he can win;
I rather wad bear a' the lade o' my sorrow
Than ever hae acted sae faithless to him.

THE WEARY PUND O' TOW.

TUNE

The Weary Pund o' Tow.

THE weary pund, the weary pund,
The weary pund o' tow;
I think my wife will end her life
Before she spin her tow.

I bought my wife a stane o' lint stone-fix
As guid as e'er did grow;

And a' that she has made o' that,
Is ae poor pund o' tow.