And fare thee weel, my only Luve!
And fare thee weel a while!

And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile.

15

R. BURNS.

151

HIGHLAND MARY

Ye banks and braes and streams around

The castle o' Montgomery,

Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie !

There simmer first unfauld her robes,
And there the langest tarry;

For there I took the last fareweel
O' my sweet Highland Mary.

How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk,
How rich the hawthorn's blossom,

As underneath their fragrant shade
I clasp'd her to my bosom !

The golden hours on angel wings
Flew o'er me and my dearie;
For dear to me as light and life
Was my sweet Highland Mary.

Wi' mony a vow and lock'd embrace
Our parting was fu' tender;

And pledging aft to meet again,
We tore oursels asunder;

5

10

15

20

But, oh! fell Death's untimely frost,
That nipt my flower sae early!

Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay,
That wraps my Highland Mary!

O pale, pale now, those rosy lips,
I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly!

And closed for ay the sparkling glance
That dwelt on me sae kindly;

25

And mouldering now in silent dust
That heart that lo'ed me dearly!
But still within my bosom's core
Shall live my Highland Mary.

152

AULD ROBIN GRAY

R. BURNS.

30

When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kyeathame, And a' the warld to rest are gane,

The waes o' my heart fa' in showers frae my e'e, While my gudeman lies sound by me.

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

5

But saving a croun he had naething else beside :
To make the croun a pund, young Jamie gaed tosea;
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 sea-
And auld Robin Gray came a-courtin' me.

10

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 !

15

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 ?

20

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.

25

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!

32

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 ay to be,
For auld Robin Gray he is kind unto me.

35

LADY A. LINDSAY.

153

DUNCAN GRAY

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 ask'ent and unco skeigh,
Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh;
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!

Duncan fleech'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 !

10

15

How it comes let doctors tell,
Meg grew sick-as he grew heal;
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;

Ha, ha, the wooing o't!

Maggie's was a piteous case;
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!
Duncan couldna be her death,
Swelling pity smoor'd his wrath;

Now they're crouse and canty baith :
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!

20

25

R. BURNS.

30

154

THE SAILOR'S WIFE

And are ye sure the news is true?
And are ye sure he 's weel?
Is this a 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;

10

For I maun tell the baillie's wife
That Colin 's in the town.

15

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'.

25

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

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,

45

And will I hear him speak?

50

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';

55

There's little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman 's awa'.

W. J. MICKLE.