Tune-"Anld Sir Symon." SIR Wisdom's a fool when he's fou, But what will ye hae of a fool? I ance was tied up like a stirk; For touzling a lass i' my daffin. For faith I'm confoundedly dry; The chiel that's a fool for himsel', Gude Lord! he far dafter than I. RECITATIVO. Then neist outspak a raucle carlin, AIR. Tune-"O an ye were dead Guidman." I. A HIGHLAND lad my love was born, Sing, hey my braw John Highlandman! II. With his philibeg an' tartan plaid, III. We ranged a' from Tweed to Spey, IV. They banish'd him beyond the sea, But ere the bud was on the tree, Adown my cheek the pearls ran, Embracing my John Highlandman. Sing, hey, &c. V But, oh! they catch'd him at the last, VI. Wi' ghastly e'e, poor tweedle dee AIR. Tune-" Clout the Cauldron." I. My bonnie lass, I work in brass, A tinkler in my station; I've travell'd round all Christian ground, I've ta'en the gold. I've been enrolled In many a noble squadron: But vain they search'd, when off I march'd To go and clout the cauldron. I've ta'en the gold, &c. II Despise that shrimp, that wither'd imp, An' tak' a share wi' those that bear An' by that stoup, my faith and houp, If e'er ye want, or meet wi' scant, RECITATIVO. The caird prevail'd-the unblushing fair Partly wi' love o'ercome sae sair, Sir Violino, with an air That show'd a man of spunk, Wish'd unison between the pair, An' made the bottle clunk To their health that night. But hurchin Cupid shot a shaft Her lord, a wight o' Homer's craft,134 He was a care-defying blade So sung the bard-and Nansie's wa's Re-echo'd from each mouth; They toom'd their pocks, an' pawn'd their duds, To loose his pack and wale a sang, He rising, rejoicing, Between his twa Deborahs, Looks round him, an' found them A fig for those by law protected! Liberty's a glorious feast! Courts for cowards were erected, Churches built to please the priest. TAM GLEN. My heart is a-breaking, dear tittie, But what will I do wi Tam Glen? If I maunna marry Tam Glen? There's Lowrie the laird o' Drumeller, "Gude day to you, brute," he comes ben: He brags and he biaws o' his siller, But when will he dance like Tam Glen? My minnie does constantly deave me, O wha will I get like Tam Glen? My droukit sark-sleeve, as ye ken; MY TOCHER'S THE JEWEL. O MEIKLE thinks my luve o' my beauty, And meikle thinks my luve o my kin; But little thinks my luve, I ken brawlie, My tocher's the jewel has charms for him, It's a' for the apple he'll nourish the tree; It's a' for the himney he'll cherish the bee; My laddie's sae meikle in luve wi' the siller, He canna hoe luvé to spare for me. Your proffer o' luve's an airl-penny, My tocher's the bargain ye wad buy; But an' ye be crafty, I am cunnin', Sae ye wi' anither your fortune maun try. Ye're like te the bark o yon rotten tree, Ye're like to the timmer o' yon rotten wood, Ye'll slip frae me like a knotless thread, And ye'll crack your credit wi' inae nor me, THEN GUIDWIFE COUNT THE LAWIN. GANE is the day and mirk's the night, Then, Guidwife, count the lawin', the lawin', the lawin', Then, guidwife, count the lawin', and bring a coggie mair. There's wealth an' ease for gentlemen, And semple-folk maun fecht and feu'; But here we're a' in ac accord, For ilka man that's drunk's a lord. Then guidwife count, &c. My coggie is a haly pool, That heals the wounds o' care and dool; WHAT CAN A YOUNG LASSIE DO WI' AN AULD MAN. WHAT can a young lassie, what shall a young lassic, What can a young lassic do wi' an auld man? He's always compleenin' frae mornin' to e'enin', I never can please him, do a' that I can; He's peevish, and jealous of a' the young fellows, O, dool on the day, I met wi' an auld man! My auld auntie Katie upon me takes pity, THE BONNIE WEE THING. BONNIE Wee thing, cannie wee thing. Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine; I wad wear thee in my bosom, Lest my jewel I should tine! Wistfully I look and languish, In that bonnic face of thine: And my heart it stounds wi' anguish, Lest my wee thing be na mine. Wit, and grace, and love, and beauty, To adore thee is my duty, O, FOR ANE AND TWENTY, TAM! AN' O, for ane and twenty, Tam! An' I saw ane and twenty, Tam! They snool me sair, and haud me down, But three short years will soon wheel roun'- An' O, for ane, &c. A glieb o' lan', a claut o' gear, An' I saw ane and twenty, Tam! They'll hae me wed a wealthy coof, BESS AND HER SPINNING WHEEL. On ilka hand the burnies trot, On lofty aiks the cushats wail, Wi' sma' to sell, and less to buy, COUNTRY LASSIE. IN simmer when the hay was mawn, Says, "I'll be wed come o't what will;" Out spake a dame in wrinkled eild, "O' gude advisement comes nae ill." "Its ye hae wooers mony a ane, And, lassie, ye're but young, ye ken; He lo es sae weel his scraps and kye, For Buskie-glen and a' his gear.' "O thoughtless lassie! life's a faught, The canniest gate, the strife is sair; But aye fu' han't is fechtin' best, A hungry care's an unco care: But some will spend, and some will spare, And wilfu' folk maun hae their will; Syne as ye brew, my maiden fair, Keep mind that ye maun drink the yill." "O gear will buy me rigs o' land, And gear will buy me sheep and kye; We may be poor,-Robie and I, FAIR ELIZA. A GAELIC AIR. TURN again, thon fair Eliza, Ae kind blink before we part, Rew on thy despairing lover! Canst thou break his faithfu' heart? Turn again, thou fair Eliza; If to love thy heart denies, For pity hide the cruel sentence Under friendship's kind disguise! Thee, dear maid, hae I offended? Thou shalt mix in ilka throe: Ae sweet smile on me bestow! All beneath the simmer moon; THE POSIE. Oн, Lave will venture in, where it dare na well be seen, Oh, love will venture in where wisdom ance has been: But I will down yon river rove, among the wood sae green And a' to pu' a posie to my ain dear May. The primrose I will pu', the firstling o' the year, And I will pu' the pink, the emblem o' my dear, For she's the pink o' womankind, and blooms without a peer And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. I'll pu' the budding rose, when Phoebus peeps in view, For it's like a baumy kiss o' her sweet bonnie THE BANKS O' DOON. YE banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, And I sae weary fu' o' care; Thou'll break my heart thou warbling bird, Oft hae I rov'd by bonnie Doon, To see the rose and woodbine twine; Wr lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, Fu sweet upon its thorny three: And my fause lover stole my rose, But ah! he left the thorn wi' me. SIC A WIFE AS WILLIE HAD. WILLIE WASTLE dwalt on Tweed, The spot they ca'd it Linkumdoddie; Willie was a wabster guid, Could stown a clue wi' ony bodie; O, Tinkler Madgie was her mither- I wad na gie a button for her. She had an e'e-she has but ane, A clapper tongue wad deave a miller; A whiskin' beard about her mou', Her nose and chin they threaten ither; She's bow-hough'd, she's heinshinned, Auld baudrons by the ingle sits, She dights her grunzie wi' a hushion: Her wailie neives like midden creels, Her face wad fyle the Logan Water; Sic a wife as Willie had, I wad na gie a button for her. GLOOMY DECEMBER. ANCE mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December, Ance mair I hail thee, wi' sorrow and care; Sad was the parting thou mak'st me remember, Pa ting wi' Nancy, Oh! ne'er to meet mair! Fond lovers' parting is sweet painful pleasure, Hope beaming mild on the soft parting hour; But the dire feeling, Oh! farewell for ever, Is anguish unmingl'd and agony pure. Wild as the winter now tearing the forest, "Till the last leaf o' the summer is flown, Such is the tempest has shaken my bosom, Since my last hope and last comfort is gone! Still as I hail thee, thou gloomy December. Still shall I hail thee wi' sorrow and care; For sad was the parting thou mak`st mè remember, Parting wi' Nancy, Oh! ne'er to meet mair. EVAN BANKS. SLOW Spreads the gloom my soul desires, Oh! streams whose murmurs still I hear! Ye lofty banks that Evan bound! WILT THOU BE MY DEARIE? WILT thou be my dearie? When sorrow wrings thy gentle heart, O wilt thou let me cheer thee? By the treasure of my soul, I swear and vow, that only thou Lassie, say thou lo'es me: Or, if thou wilt na be my ain, SHE'S FAIR AND FAUSE. SHE'S fair and fanse that causes my smart, She's broken her vow, she's broken my heart, A coof cam in wi' roth o' gear, O, woman lovely, woman fair! |