[I'll kiss thee yet, yet, An' I'll kiss thee o'er again; An' I'll kiss thee yet, yet, My bonnie Peggy Alison !] When in my arms, wi' a' thy charms, And by thy een, sae bonnie blue, An' I'll kiss thee o'er again; An I'll kiss thee yet, yet, My bonnie Peggy Alison !] YOUNG PEGGY. " [Margaret Kennedy was the heroine of this dainty love song, which Burns enclosed to her in a brief note, describing it as a small though grateful tribute offered to her in return for the honour of her acquaintance. They had been introduced to one another at Mauchline, during the autumn of 1785, when she was a "bonnie lassie of seventeen." Her father was a small landed proprietor in Carrick. Unhappily, the Poet's aspiration in her regard, at the opening of the fourth stanza, was anything but fulfilledthe McDouall of Logan having played so falsely by her in the following autumn (that of 1786) that Burns, hearing of it shortly before he started for Edinburgh, poured forth in lamentation, on her behalf, his immortal verses, "Ye Banks and Braes o' Bonnie Doon.] Tune-"Last time I cam' o'er the muir." YOUNG Peggy blooms our bonniest lass, Her blush is like the morning, The rosy dawn, the springing grass With pearly gems adorning : 241 Nicolas insists, in flagrant defiance of public My mither sent me to the town, opinion, as to the wrong-doing.] Tune-"East nook o' Fife." OH, wha my baby-clouts will buy? The rantin' dog the daddie o't. Oh, wha will own he did the fau't? Oh, wha will buy the groanin' maut ? Oh, wha will tell me how to ca't? The rantin' dog the daddie o't. When I mount the creepie chair, MY HEART WAS ANCE AS BLITHE AND FREE. [Another fragment of one of the old lyrics of Scotland is preserved in the following chorus, which for that reason is bracketed as not by Burns.] Tune-"To the weavers gin ye go." Has gart me change my sang. To the weavers gin ye go; I rede you right gang ne'er at night, To warp a plaiden wab; [To the weavers gin ye go, &c.] A bonnie westlin' weaver lad [To the weavers gin ye go, &c.] [To the weavers gin ye go, &c.] [To the weavers gin ye go, &c.] But what was said, or what was done, Shame fa' me gin I tell ; But oh! I fear the kintra soon [To the weavers gin ye go, fair To the weavers gin ye go; MY NANNIE, O! [Agnes Fleming, a servant at Calcothill, near Lochlea, was the one here sung of as Nannie.] Tune-" My Nannie, O." BEHIND yon hills, where Lugar flows, 'Mang moors an' mosses many, O, The wintry sun the day has closed, And I'll awa' to Nannie, O. The westlin' wind blaws loud an' shrill; The night's baith mirk and rainy, O; But I'll get my plaid, an' out I'll steal, An' owre the hills to Nannie, O. My Nannie's charming, sweet, an' young, Her face is fair, her heart is true, As spotless as she's bonnie, O; The opening gowan, wet wi' dev, Nae purer is than Nannie, O. A country lad is my degree, An' few there be that ken me, O; But what care I how few they be? I'm welcome aye to Nannie, O. My riches a''s my penny-fee, An' I maun guide it cannie, O. Our auld guidman delights to view His sheep an' kye thrive bonnie, O; But I'm as blithe that hauds his pleugh, An' has nae care but Nannie, O. Come weel, come woe, I care na by, But live an' love my Nannie, O. A FRAGMENT. Tune-"John Anderson my Jo." ONE night as I did wander, When corn begins to shoot, I sat me down to ponder, Upon an auld tree root: Auld Ayr ran by before me, And bickered to the seas; A cushat crowded o'er me, That echoed through the braes. GREEN GROW THE RASHES. [An old choral chaunt, long popular in Scotland before he was born, has here suggested to Burns one of his finest lyrics.] THERE's nought but care on every han', Green grow the rashes, O! The warl'ly race may riches chase, An' riches still may fly them, O; An' though at last they catch them fast, Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O. [Green grow the rashes, O! &c.] But gi'e me a canny hour at e'en, [Green grow the rashes, O! &c.] For you sae douse, ye sneer at this, Auld Nature swears the lovely dears Green grow the rashes, O! RANTIN' ROVIN' ROBIN. [In this famous song about himself, Burns, it will be remarked, celebrates in the second stanza the partial destruction of the auld clay biggin, in which he was born, a few nights after his making his appearance in the world, only, confusing the date of his birth with the date of the accident, he attributes the latter not to a blast of February, as it was, in point of fact, but to one of January.] Tune-" Daintie Davie.' THERE was a lad was born in Kyle, Robin was a rovin' boy, Rantin' rovin' Robin! Our monarch's hindmost year but ane The gossip keekit in his loof; Robin was a rovin' boy, &c. He'll ha'e misfortunes great and sma', But aye a heart aboon them a'; We'll a' be proud o' Robin. Robin was a rovin' boy, &c. I see, by ilka score and line, So leeze me on thee, Robin! Robin was a rovin' boy, &c. Guid faith, quo' she, I doubt ye gar Robin was a rovin' boy, Rantin' rovin', rantin' rovin'; Robin was a rovin' boy, Rantin' rovin' Robin! THE HIGHLAND LASSIE. [Burns's Highland Mary, the heroine of the subjoined as well as of other and immeasurably finer lyrics from the same master-hand, was Mary Campbell, of Campbeltown in Argyleshire. At the time of the Poet's intimacy with her, she was a nurserymaid in the family of his friend, landlord, and general adviser, Gavin Hamilton. Particulars need not be reprinted here, which have already been duly set forth in the Introductory Biography, with reference to this most pathetic episode in the life of the Ayr shire Ploughman.] Tune-"The deuks dang o'er my daddy." Within the glen sae bushy, O, translated from Euripides. Burns could give no clue whatever as to their authorship, and, regarding them as suitable for music, took the trouble of copying them out and sending them to Johnson for his Museum. There, in due course, they appeared, and thence, through a not unreasonable misapprehension, they were taken, to be included among his collected Songs, tallying so distinctly as they did with his lyrical manner, and fitting in to a nicety, as they seemed to do, with his ill-fated love for his Highland Mary.] Tune-" Blue bonnets." [POWERS celestial! whose protection Draw your choicest influence down. Make the gales you waft around her MARY. HER FLOWING LOCKS. [Cromek says that Burns had his foot in the stirrup one afternoon to mount and ride from [Nearly a hundred years after date, namely, Ayr to Mauchline, when he caught sight of the in 1871, these stanzas, which have always been printed among the works of Burns as penned by him in celebration of Mary Campbell, were found by James Christie, the librarian of Dollar Institution, to have been, after all, merely copied by the Poet from an old monthly periodical of 1774, the Edinburgh Magazine. They were then published anonymously, as having been beautiful creature who at once inspired him to the composition of these dainty verses.] HER flowing locks, the raven's wing, And round that neck entwine her! |