And surely you'll be your pint-stoup, And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet My father was a farmer upon the Carrick border, O, And carefully he bred me in decency and order, O; He bade me act a manly part, though I had ne'er a farthing, O, For without an honest manly heart no man was worth regarding, O. Then out into the world my course I did determine, O; Though to be rich was not my wish, yet to be great was charming, 0: My talents they were not the worst, nor yet my education, O; Resolved was I, at least to try, to mend my situation, O. In many a way, and vain essay, I courted fortune's favor, O; Some cause unseen still stept between, to frustrate each endeavor, O. Sometimes by foes I was o'erpowered, sometimes by friends forsaken, O; And when my hope was at the top, I still was worst mistaken, O. 21. stoup, flagon. Then sore harassed, and tired at last, with fortune's vain delusion, O, I dropt my schemes, like idle dreams, and came to this conclusion, O: The past was bad, and the future hid-its good or ill untried, O; But the present hour was in my power, and so I would enjoy it, O. No help, nor hope, nor view had I, nor person to befriend me, O; So I must toil, and sweat, and broil, and labor to sustain me, O; To plough and sow, to reap and mow, my father bred me early, O; 20 For one, he said, to labor bred, was a match for fortune fairly, O. Thus all obscure, unknown, and poor, through life I'm doomed to wander, O, Till down my weary bones I lay, in everlasting slumber, O. No view nor care, but shun whate'er might breed me pain or sorrow, O; I live to-day as well's I may, regardless of to-morrow, O. But cheerful still, I am as well as a monarch in a palace, O, Though fortune's frown still hunts me down with all her wonted malice, O: I make indeed my daily bread, but ne'er can make it farther, O; But as daily bread is all I need, I do not much regard her, O. When sometimes by my labor I earn a little money, O, 30 Some unforeseen misfortune comes generally upon me, 0: Mischance, mistake, or by neglect, or my good-natured folly, O: But come what will, I've sworn it still, I'll ne'er be melancholy, O. All you who follow wealth and power with unremit ting ardor, O, The more in this you look for bliss, you leave view the farther, O: your 35 Had you the wealth Potosi boasts, or nations to adore you, O, A cheerful honest-hearted clown I will prefer be fore you, O. JOHN ANDERSON. TUNE-John Anderson my Jo. 35. Potosi, a famous mining town of South America. 1. jo, sweetheart. 2. acquent, acquainted. 4. brent, smooth. 5. beld, bald. 7. pow, head. 10 John Anderson my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither, We've had wi' ane anither: But hand in hand we'll go, 15 And sleep thegither at the foot, FLOW GENTLY, SWEET AFTON. Their Flow Gently, Sweet Afton, is one of the songs, like the two that follow, composed in honor of Mary Campbell. After promising to marry Burns, she went from Ayrshire to her parents in Argyleshire, in May, 1786, to make ready for the marriage; but five months later, before it could take place, she died. parting on the banks of the Ayr is the theme of the song Highland Mary. Popular tradition has it that after plighting solemn troth, "they stood on either side of a brook, they dipped their hands in the water, exchanged Bibles and parted." The poem To Mary in Heaven was written three years later, when Burns was living with his wife at Ellisland. FLOW gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, s Thou stock-dove whose echo resounds through the glen, Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den, Thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming forbear, I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair. 10. clamb, climbed; thegither, together. 11. canty, pleasant. 12. ane anither, one another.. How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighboring hills, 10 Far marked with the courses of clear winding rills; There daily I wander as noon rises high, My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye. How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below, Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow; 15 There oft as mild evening weeps over the lea, The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me. Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, And winds by the cot where my Mary resides; How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave, 20 As gathering sweet flowerets she stems thy clear wave. Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. HIGHLAND MARY. TUNE - Katharine Ogie. YE banks, and braes, and streams around Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, 5 There simmer first unfauld her robes, 16. birk, birch. 4. drumlie, muddy. 5. simmer, summer; unfauld, unfold. |