TIBBIE, I HAE SEEN THE DAY.

Tune.- "Invercald's Reel."

CHORUS.

O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,
Ye wad na been sae shy;
For lack o' gear ye lightly me,
But, trowth, I care na by.

YESTREEN I met you on the moor,
Ye spak na, but gaed by like stoure;
Ye geck at me because I'm poor,
But fient a hair care I.

I doubt na, lass, but ye may think,
Because ye hae the name o' clink,
That ye can please me at a wink,
Whene'er ye like to try.

But sorrow tak him that's sae mean,
Altho' his pouch o' coin were clean,
Wha follows ony saucy quean,

That looks sae proud and high.

Altho' a lad were e'er sae smart,
If that he want the yellow dirt,
Ye'll cast your head anither airt,
And answer him fu' dry.

But if he hae the name o' gear,
Ye'll fasten to him like a brier,
Tho' hardly he, for sense or lear,
Be better than the kye.

But, Tibbie, lass, tak my advice,
Your daddie's gear maks you sae nice;
The deil a ane wad spier your price,
Were ye as poor as I.

There lives a lass in yonder park,
I would nae gie her in her sark,
For thee, wi' a' thy thousan' mark ;
Ye need na look sae high.

This is one of the earliest of the Poet's compositions. The Tibbie wha" spak na, but gaed by like stoure," was the daughter, it is said, of a portioner of Kyle—a man with three acres of peat moss an inheritance which she thought entitled her to treat a landless wooer with disdain. The Bard was very young when this adventure happened, and perhaps she neither looked for sweet song nor such converse as maidens love from one of such tender years.

MY FATHER WAS A FARMER.

Tune." The Weaver and his Shuttle, O."

I.

My father was a farmer

Upon the Carrick border, O,

And carefully he bred me

In decency and order, O; He bade me act a manly part,

Though I had ne'er a farthing, O; For without an honest manly heart, No man was worth regarding, O.

II.

Then out into the world

My course I did determine, O; Tho' to be rich was not my wish, Yet to be great was charming, 0: My talents they were not the worst, Nor yet my education, O; Resolv'd was I, at least to try, To mend my situation, O.

III.

In many a way, and vain essay,
I courted fortune's favour, O;
Some cause unseen still stept between,
To frustrate each endeavour, O:
Sometimes by foes I was o'erpower'd;
Sometimes by friends forsaken, O;
And when my hope was at the top,
I still was worst mistaken, O.

IV.

Then sore harass'd, and tir'd at last,
With fortune's vain delusion, O,
I dropt my schemes, like idle dreams,
And came to this conclusion, O :
The past was bad, and the future hid;
Its good or ill untried, O;

But the present hour was in my pow'r,
And so I would enjoy it, O.

V.

No help, nor hope, nor view had I,
Nor person to befriend me, O;
So I must toil, and sweat and broil,
And labour to sustain me, 0:

To plough and sow, to reap and mow,
My father bred me early, O;

For one, he said, to labour bred,

Was a match for fortune fairly, O.

VI.

Thus all obscure, unknown, and poor,

Thro' life I'm doom'd to wander O,
Till down my weary bones I lay,
In everlasting slumber, O.
No view nor care, but shun whate'er

Might breed me pain or sorrow,

I live to-day as well's I may,
Regardless of to-morrow, O.

VII.

0:

But cheerful still, I am as well,
As a monarch in a palace, O,
Tho' fortune's frown still hunts me down,
With all her wonted malice, 0:

I make indeed my daily bread,

But ne'er can make it farther,

But, as daily bread is all I need,
I do not much regard her, O.

VIII.

When sometimes by my labour
I earn a little money, O,
Some unforeseen misfortune

Comes gen'rally upon me, 0: Mischance, mistake, or by neglect, Or my goodnatur'd folly, O;

;

But come what will, I've sworn it still,
I'll ne'er be melancholy, O.