And gie to me my bigonet, My bishop's satin gown; For I maun tell the baillie's wife That Colin's in the town. For he's baith leal and true. Rise, lass, and mak a clean fireside, Put on the muckle pot; 15 20 Gie little Kate her button gown And Jock his Sunday coat; And mak their shoon as black as slaes, It's a' to please my ain gudeman, For he's been long awa. 25 Sae true his heart, sae smooth his speech, And gin I live to keep him sae, I'm blest aboon the lave: For there's nae luck about the house, There's little pleasure in the house, 50 55 When our gudeman's awa'. William Julius Mickle. CLIV THE BANKS OF DOON. Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fair! Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird ΙΟ For sae I sat, and sae I sang, And wist na o' my fate. Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon To see the woodbine twine, Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, 15 20 Robert Burns. CLV THE BRAES OF YARROW. A. 'Busk ye, busk ye, my bonnie, bonnie bride, B. 'Where gat ye that bonnie, bonnie bride, Where gat ye that winsome marrow?' 'Weep not, weep not, my bonnie, bonnie bride, Pu'ing the birks on the braes of Yarrow.' B. 'Why does she weep, thy bonnie, bonnie bride? And why daur ye nae mair well be seen A. ‘Lang maun she weep, lang lang maun she weep, 5 ΙΟ 15 20 'For she has tint her lover dear, Her lover dear, the cause of sorrow; And I ha'e slain the comeliest swain That ever pu'ed birks on the braes of Yarrow. "Why runs thy stream, O Yarrow, reid? 25 Why on thy braes heard the voice of sorrow? And why yon melancholious weeds, Hung on the bonnie birks of Yarrow? 'What's yonder floats on the rueful flood? What's yonder floats? Oh, dule and sorrow! 30 Oh! 'tis the comely swain I slew Upon the duleful banks of Yarrow! 'Wash, oh, wash his wounds in tears, 35 'Then build, then build, ye sisters sad, 40 'Curse ye, curse ye his useless shield, 45 Thou met'st, and fell on the braes of Yarrow. 'Sweet smells the birk; green grows the grass, Yellow on Yarrow's braes the gowan, 50 Fair hangs the apple frae the rock, Sweet the wave of Yarrow flowin'. 'Flows Yarrow sweet? as sweet flows Tweed, As green its grass, its gowan as yellow, 55 'Fair was thy love! fair, fair indeed thy love! 60 'Busk ye, then, busk, my bonnie, bonnie bride, C. How can I busk, a bonnie, bonnie bride, 65 How lo'e him on the banks of Tweed, That slew my Love on the braes of Yarrow? 'Oh, Yarrow fields! may never rain, The boy put on his robes of green, 'The boy took out his milk-white steed, Unmindful of my dule and sorrow; But, ere the toofal of the night, He lay a corpse on the banks of Yarrow. 80 'Much I rejoiced that waeful day, I sang, my voice the woods returning; But lang ere night the spear was flown That slew my Love, and left me mourning. 'What can my barbarous father do, 85 But with his cruel rage pursue me? My lover's blood is on thy spear; How canst thou, barbarous man, then woo me? 'My happy sisters may be proud; May bid me seek on Yarrow's braes 90 |