A man may drink and no be drunk;
A man may fight and no be slain;
A man may kiss a bonnie lass,

And ay be welcome back again.

WEARY FA' YOU, DUNCAN GRAY.

Of this the Poet says, "It is that kind of light-horse gallop of an air which precludes sentiment. The ludicrous is its ruling feature." Another version will be found at page 366.

TUNE-Duncan Gray.

WEARY fa' you, Duncan Gray-
Ha, ha, the girdin o't!
Wae gae by you, Duncan Gray-
Ha, ha, the girdin o't!
When a' the lave gae to their play,
Then I maun sit the lee-lang day,
And jog the cradle wi' my tae,
And a' for the girdin o't.

Bonnie was the Lammas moon--
Ha, ha, the girdin o't!
Glowrin' a' the hills aboon-
Ha, ha, the girdin o't!

The girdin brak, the beast cam down,
I tint my curch, and baith my shoon;
Ah! Duncan, ye 're an unco loon-
Wae on the bad girdin o't!

But, Duncan, gin ye 'll keep your aith-
Ha, ha, the girdin o't!

I'se bless you wi' my hindmost breath

Ha, ha, the girdin o't!

Duncan, gin ye 'll keep your aith,

The beast again can bear us baith,

And auld Mess John will mend the skaith,

And clout the bad girdin o't.

LANDLADY, COUNT THE LAWIN.

The two first verses are by Burns: the last is taken from an old song.

TUNE-Hey tutti, taiti.

LANDLADY, count the lawin,'
The day is near the dawin;2
Ye 're a' blind drunk, boys,
And I'm but jolly fou.'

Hey tutti, taiti,
How tutti, taiti-
Wha's fou now?

Cog an' ye were ay fou,
Cog an' ye were ay fou,
I wad sit and sing to you
If ye were ay fou.

Weel may ye a' be!
Ill may we never see!
God bless the king, boys,
And the companie!
Hey tutti, &c.

THE BLUDE RED ROSE AT YULE MAY BLAW.

The sentiment is taken from a Jacobite song of the same name.

TUNE-To daunton me.

THE blude red rose at Yule may blaw,"

The simmer lilies bloom in snaw,

6

The frost may freeze the deepest sea;
But an auld man shall never daunton' me.

To daunton me, and me sae young,
Wi' his fause heart and flattering tongue,
That is the thing you ne'er shall see;

For an auld man shall never daunton me.

Reckoning.-2 Dawn. 3 Tipsy. 4 Blood. 5 Blow.-.6 Snow.

▾ Fondle.

For a' his meal and a' his maut,
For a' his fresh beef and his saut,
For a' his gold and white monie,
An auld man shall never daunton me.

His gear may buy him kye and yowes,
His gear may buy him glens and knowes
But me he shall not buy nor fee,

For an auld man shall never daunton me.

He hirples twa fauld as he dow,

Wi' his teethless gab' and his auld beld pow,
And the rain rains down frae his red bleer'd ee-
That auld man shall never daunton me.
To daunton me, &c.

COME BOAT ME O'ER TO CHARLIE.

Some of these lines are old; the second and most of the third stanza are original 1

TUNE-O'er the water to Charlie.

COME boat me o'er, come row me o'er,
Come boat me o'er to Charlie;
I'll gie John Ross another bawbee,
To boat me o'er to Charlie.

We'll o'er the water and o'er the sea,
We'll o'er the water to Charlie;
Come weal, come woe, we'll gather and go,
And live or die wi' Charlie.

I lo'e weel my Charlie's name,
Tho' some there be abhor him:
But oh, to see auld Nick gaun hame,
And Charlie's faes before him!

I swear and vow by moon and stars,
And sun that shines sae early,
If I had twenty thousand lives
I'd die as aft for Charlie.

We'll o'er the water, &c.

'Speech. 2 Bald head.

RATTLIN', ROARIN' WILLIE.'

TUNE-Rattlin', roarin' Willie.

O RATTLIN', roarin' Willie,
Oh, he held to the fair,
An' for to sell his fiddle,
An' buy some other ware;
But parting wi' his fiddle,
The saut tear blin't his ee;
And rattlin', roarin' Willie,
Ye're welcome hame to me!
O Willie, come sell your fiddle,
Oh sell your fiddle sae fine;
O Willie, come sell your fiddle,
And buy a pint o' wine!
If I should sell my fiddle,

The warl' would think I was mad;

For mony a rantin' day

My fiddle and I hae had.

As I cam by Crochallan,
I cannily keekit ben-
Rattlin', roarin' Willie

Was sitting at yon board en';

Sitting at yon board en',

And amang guid companie;

Rattlin', roarin' Willie,

Ye're welcome hame to me!

THE TAILOR.

The second and fourth verses are by Burns; the rest is very old. The air is Deautiful, and is played by the Corporation of Tailors at their annual elections and processions.

TUNE-The tailor fell thro' the bed, thimbles an' a'.

THE tailor fell thro' the bed, thimbles an' a',
The tailor fell thro' the bed, thimbles an' a';

1 The hero of this song was William Dunbar, Esq., writer to the "Signet," Edinburgh, and colonel of the Crochallan corps, a club of wits, who took that title at the time of raising the Fencible regiments. Burns says, "he was one of the worthiest fellows in the world."

The blankets were thin, and the sheets they were sma'
The tailor fell thro' the bed, thimbles an' a'.

The sleepy bit lassie, she dreaded nae ill,
The sleepy bit lassie, she dreaded nae ill;
The weather was cauld, and the lassie lay still,
She thought that a tailor could do her nae ill.
Gie me the groat again, canny young man;
Gie me the groat again, canny young man;
The day it is short, and the night it is lang,
The dearest siller that ever I wan!

There's somebody weary wi' lying her lane;
There's somebody weary wi' lying her lane;
There's some that are dowie, I trow wad be fain
To see the bit tailor come skippin' again.

SIMMER'S A PLEASANT TIME.

The first verse is by Burns, the others are only revised by him.
TUNE-Ay waukin O.

SIMMER's a pleasant time,

Flowers of every color;
The water rins o'er the heugh,'
And I long for my true lover.

Ay waukin2 0,

Waukin still and wearie:
Sleep I can get nanes

For thinking on my dearie.

When I sleep I dream,

When I wauk I'm eerie;*

Sleep I can get nane

For thinking on my dearie.

Lanely night comes on,

A' the lave are sleeping;

I think on my bonnie lad,

And I bleer my een with greetin'.
Ay waukin, &c.

1 Crag.-2 Waking.-3 None.-4 Frightened.