And there led I the Bushby clan,
My gamesome billie, Will;
And my son Maitland, wise as brave,
My footsteps follow'd still.
The Douglas and the Heron's name
We set nought to their score;
The Douglas and the Heron's name
Had felt our weight before.
But Douglases o' weight had we,
The pair o' lusty lairds,
For building cot-houses sae famed,
And christening kail-yards.
And there Redcastle drew his sword,
That ne'er was stained wi' gore,
Save on a wanderer lame and blind,
To drive him frae his door.
And last came creeping Collieston,
Was mair in fear than wrath;
Ae knave was constant in his mind,
To keep that knave frae scaith.
There's a noble Earl's
Fame and high renown
For an auld sang-
It's thought the gudes were stown.
Here is Murray's fragments
O' the ten commands;
Gifted by black Jock
To get them aff his hands.
Saw ye e'er sic troggin?
If to buy ye're slack,
Hornie's turnin' chapman,-
He'll buy a' the pack.
O WHA will to Saint Stephen's house,
To do our errands there, man?
O wha will to Saint Stephen's house,
O' th' merry lads of Ayr, man?
Or will we send a man-o'-law?
Or will we send a sodger?
Or him wha led o'er Scotland a'
The meikle Ursa-Major?
Come, will ye court a noble lord,
Or buy a score o' lairds, man?
For worth and honour pawn their word,
Their vote shall be Glencaird's, man.
Ane gies them coin, ane gies them wine,
Anither gies them clatter;
Annbank, wha guess'd the ladies' taste,
He gies a Fête Champêtre.
When Love and Beauty heard the news,
The gay green-woods amang, man;
Where, gathering flowers and busking bowers,
They heard the blackbird's sang, man;
A vow, they seal'd it with a kiss
Sir Politics to fetter,
As their's alone, the patent-bliss,
To hold a Fête Champêtre.
Then mounted Mirth, on gleesome wing,
O'er hill and dale she flew, man;
Ilk wimpling burn, ilk crystal spring,
Ilk glen and shaw she knew, man:
She summon'd every social sprite,
That sports by wood or water,
On th' bonnie banks of Ayr to meet,
And keep this Fête Champêtre.
Cauld Boreas, wi' his boisterous crew,
Were bound to stakes like kye, man;
And Cynthia's car, o' silver fu',
Clamb up the starry sky, man:
Reflected beams dwell in the streams,
Or down the current shatter;
The western breeze steals through the trees,
To view this Fête Champêtre.
How many a robe sae gaily floats!
What sparkling jewels glance, man!
To Harmony's enchanting notes,
As moves the mazy dance, man!
The echoing wood, the winding flood,
Like Paradise did glitter,
When angels met, at Adam's yett,
To hold their Fête Champêtre.
When Politics came there to mix
And make his ether-stane, man!
He circled round the magic ground,
But entrance found he nane, man:
He blush'd for shame, he quat his name,
Forswore it every letter,
Wi' humble prayer to join and share
This festive Fête Champêtre.
WHISTLE OWRE THE LAVE O'T.
FIRST when Maggy was my care,
Heaven, I thought, was in her air;
Now we're married-spier ne mair-
Whistle owre the lave o't.
Meg was meek, and Meg was mild,
Bonnie Meg was nature's child-
Wiser men than me's beguil'd;
Whistle owre the lave o't.
How we live, my Meg and me,
How we love and how we 'gree,
I care na by how few may see-
Whistle owre the lave o't.
Wha I wish were maggots' meat,
Dish'd up in her winding sheet,
I could write-but Meg may see't;
Whistle owre the lave o't.
Now rosy May comes in wi' flowers,
To deck her gay, green spreading bowers;
And now comes in my happy hours,
To wander wi' my Davie.
Meet me on the warlock knowe,
Dainty Davie, dainty Davie,
There I'll spend the day wi' you,
My ain dear dainty Davie.
The crystal waters round us fa',
The merry birds are lovers a',
The scented breezes round us blaw,
A wandering wi' my Davie.
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