Be kind to the bairns a', and weil mat ye be; John ran to the minister; his hair stood a' on end: Oh, fareweel, Johnnie, quo' she, this is nae me! The tale you tell, the parson said, is wonderful to me, How that a wife without a head should speak, or hear, or see! But things that happen hereabout so strangely alter'd be, That I could maist wi' Bessie say, 'Tis neither you nor she !* Neither you nor she, quo' he, neither you nor she; Wow, na, Johnnie man, 'tis neither you nor she. Now Johnnie he cam hame again, and wow, but he was fain, To see his little Bessikie come to hersell again. He got her sittin' on a stool, wi' Tibbock on her knee: I've got a drap wi' Tibbikie, and this is now me. * A Jacobite allusion, probably to the change of the Stuart for the Brunswick dynasty, in 1714. KATE OF ABERDEEN. CUNNINGHAM. TUNE-Kate of Aberdeen. THE silver moon's enamour'd beam To beds of state go, balmy sleep, Upon the green the virgins wait, Till morn unbar her golden gate, Strike up the tabor's boldest notes, We'll rouse the nodding grove; The nested birds shall raise their throats, And hail the maid I love : And see the matin lark mistakes, He quits the tufted green; Fond bird! 'tis not the morning breaks— 'Tis Kate of Aberdeen. Now lightsome o'er the level mead, Like them the jocund dance we'll lead, For see the rosy May draws nigh, And hark, the happy shepherds cry, 'Tis Kate of Aberdeen.* THE LASS OF BALLOCHMYLE. BURNS. TUNE-The Lass of Ballochmyle. 'Twas even, the dewy fields were green, All nature list'ning seem'd the while, With careless step I onward stray'd, A maiden fair I chanced to spy: Bespake the lass o' Ballochmyle. Fair is the morn in flowery May, There all her charms she does compile ; * From Mr Cromek's Select Scottish Songs, 2 vols. 1810. Cunningham, the author of the song, was a poor player in the north of England, and died about forty years ago. Even there her other works are foil'd, Oh, had she been a country maid, That ever rose on Scotland's plain ! The bonnie lass o' Ballochmyle. Then pride might climb the slipp'ry steep, To tend the flocks, or till the soil, And ev'ry day have joys divine, Wi' the bonnie lass o' Ballochmyle.* WERE NA MY HEART LICHT I WAD DEE. LADY GRIZZEL BAILLIE.† TUNE-Were na my heart licht. THERE was anes a may, and she loo'd na men: * This song was written in praise of Miss Alexander of Ballochmyle. Burns happened one fine evening to meet this young lady, when walking through the beautiful woods of Ballochmyle, which lie at the distance of two miles from his farm of Mossgiel, near Mauchline. Struck with a sense of her passing beauty, he wrote this noble lyric; which he soon after sent to her, enclosed in a letter, as full of delicate and romantic sentiment as itself. He was somewhat mortified to find, that either maidenly modesty, or pride of superior station, prevented her from acknowledging the receipt of his compliment. Daughter of the patriotic Patrick, first Earl of Marchmont, and wife of George Bailie, Esq. of Jerviswood; a lady of singular talent and strength But now she cries Dule and well-a-day! When bonnie young Jamie cam ower the sea, He hecht me, &c. He had a wee titty that loo'd na me, She raised such a pother 'twixt him and his mother, She raised, &c. The day it was set, and the bridal to be: His kin was for ane of a higher degree, They said I had neither cow nor caff, His titty she was baith wylie and slee, of mind, and adorned with all the domestic virtues. Her Memoirs, written by her daughter, Lady Murray of Stanhope, and lately published, form one of the most delightful volumes of the kind in the English language. She died, a widow, in 1746. |