He had a blue bonnet
That wanted the crown;
But now he has gotten
A hat and a feather,-
Hey, brave Johnie lad,
Cock up your beaver!
Cock up your beaver,
And cock it fu' sprush,
We'll over the border
And gie them a brush;
There's somebody there
We'll teach better behavior,
Hey, brave Johnie lad,
Cock up your beaver!
HOW CAN I BE BLYTHE AND GLAD!
This song is said to have been written in allusion to the treatment of Jean Armour by her father, when he learned that she still kept up a correspondence with the Poet.
TUNE-The bonnie lad that's far awa.
On how can I be blythe and glad,
Or how can I gang brisk and braw,
When the bonnie lad that I lo'e best
Is o'er the hills and far awa?
When the bonnie lad that I lo'e best
Is o'er the hills and far awa?
It's no the frosty winter wind,
It's no the driving drift and snaw;
But ay the tear comes in my e'e,
To think on him that's far awa.
But ay the tear comes in my e'e,
To think on him that's far awa.
My father pat me frae his door,
My friends they hae disown'd me a',
But I hae ane will tak' my part,
The bonnie lad that's far awa.
But I hae ane will tak' my part,
The bonnie lad that 's far awa.
A pair o' gloves he gae to me,
And silken snoods he gae me twa;
And I will wear them for his sake,
The bonnie lad that's far awa.
And I will wear them for his sake,
The bonnie lad that's far awa.
SENSIBILITY HOW CHARMING.
The heroine of this song is said to be the fair Clarinda
TUNE-Cornwallis's Lament for Colonel Muirhead.
SENSIBILITY how charming,
Dearest Nancy! thou canst tell,
But distress with horrors arming,
Thou hast also known too well.
Fairest flower, behold the lily,
Blooming in the sunny ray-
Let the blast sweep o'er the valley,
See it prostrate on the clay.
Hear the woodlark charm the forest,
Telling o'er his little joys:
Hapless bird! a prey the surest
To each pirate of the skies.
Dearly bought the hidden treasure,
Finer feelings can bestow:
Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure,
Thrill the deepest notes of woe.
IT IS NA, JEAN, THY BONNIE FACE. These verses were originally in English; Burns has bestowed on them a Scottish dress.
TUNE-The Maid's Complaint.
Ir is na, Jean, thy bonnie face,
Nor shape, that I admire,
Although thy beauty and thy grace
Might weel awake desire.
Something, in ilka part o' thee,
To praise, to love, I find;
But dear as is thy form to me,
Still dearer is thy mind.
Nae mair ungenerous wish I hae,
Nor stronger in my breast,
Than if I canna mak thee sae,
At least to see thee blest.
Content am I, if Heaven shall give
But happiness to thee:
And as wi' thee I'd wish to live,
For thee I'd bear to die.
Altered from the old song of Eppie Macnab, which has more wit than
Он saw ye my dearie, my Eppie M'Nab?
Oh saw ye my dearie, my Eppie M'Nab?
She's down in the yard, she's kissin' the laird,
She winna come hame to her ain Jock Rab.
Oh come thy ways to me, my Eppie M'Nab!
Oh come thy ways to me, my Eppie M'Nab!
Whate'er thou hast done, be it late, be it soon,
Thou's welcome again to thy ain Jock Rab.
What says she, my dearie, my Eppie M'Nab?
What says she, my dearie, my Eppie M'Nab?
She lets thee to wit, that she has thee forgot,
And forever disowns thee, her ain Jock Rab.
Oh had I ne'er seen thee, my Eppie M'Nab!
Oh had I ne'er seen thee, my Eppie M‘Nab!
As light as the air, and fause as thou 's fair,
Thou's broken the heart o' thy ain Jock Rab.
THE tither morn
When I forlorn,
Aneath an aik sat moaning,
I did na trow,
I'd see my Jo,
Beside me, gain the gloaming.
But he sae trig,
Lap o'er the rig,
And dawtingly did cheer me,
When I, what reck,
Did least expec',
To see my lad so near me.
His bonnet he,
A thought ajee,
Cock'd sprush when first he clasp'd me; And I, I wat,
Wi' fainness grat,
While in his grips he press'd me.
Deil tak' the war!
Hae wish'd since Jock departed;
But now as glad
I'm wi' my lad,
As short syne broken-hearted.
Fu' aft at e'en
Wi' dancing keen,
When a' were blythe and merry,
I cared na by,
Sae sad was I
In absence o' my dearie.
But, praise be blest,
My mind's at rest,
I'm happy wi' my Johnie:
At kirk and fair,
I'se ay be there.
And be as canty's onie.
LOVELY DAVIES.
TUNE-Miss Muir.
Oн how shall I, unskilfu', try
The poet's occupation,
The tunefu' powers, in happy hours,
That whisper inspiration?
Even they maun dare an effort mair,
Than aught they ever gave us,
Or they rehearse, in equal verse,
The charms o' lovely Davies.
Each eye it cheers, when she appears,
Like Phoebus in the morning,
When past the shower, and every flower
The garden is adorning.
As the wretch looks o'er Siberia's shore,
When winter-bound the wave is;
Sae droops our heart when we maun part
Frae charming lovely Davies.
Her smile 's a gift, frae 'boon the lift,
That maks us mair than princes;
A scepter'd hand, a king's command,
Is in her darting glances;
The man in arms, 'gainst female charms,
Even he her willing slave is;
He hugs his chain, and owns the reign
Of conquering, lovely Davies.
My muse to dream of such a theme,
Her feeble powers surrender;
The eagle's gaze alone surveys
The sun's meridian splendor;
I wad in vain essay the strain,
The deed too daring brave is;
I'll drap the lyre, and mute admire
The charms o' lovely Davies.
THE WEARY PUND O' TOW.
TUNE-The weary pund o' tow.
The weary pund, the weary pund,
The weary pund o' tow;
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