HERE'S TO THY HEALTH

I never had frien's weel stockit in means,
To leave me a hundred or twa, man;

Nae weel-tocher'd aunts, to wait on their drants,b
And wish them in hell for it a', man.

I never was cannie for hoarding o' money,
Or claughtin't together at a', man;
I've little to spend, and naething to lend,
But deevil a shilling I awe, man.

e

Song-Here's to thy Health.1

HERE'S to thy health, my bonie lass,
Gude nicht and joy be wi' thee;
I'll come nae mair to thy bower-door,
To tell thee that I lo'e thee.
O dinna think, my pretty pink,

But I can live without thee:
I vow and swear I dinna care,
How lang ye look about ye.

THE LASS OF CESSNOCK BANKS

I ken they scorn my low estate,

But that does never grieve me;
For I'm as free as any he;

Sma' siller will relieve me.

I'll count my health my greatest wealth,
Sae lang as I'll enjoy it;

b

I'll fear nae scant, I'll bode nae want,
As lang's I get employment.

But far off fowls hae feathers fair,
And, aye until ye try them,

Tho' they seem fair, still have a care;

They may prove as bad as I am.

But at twal' at night, when the moon shines bright,

My dear, I'll come and see thee;

For the man that loves his mistress weel,

Nae travel makes him weary.

The Lass of Cessnock Banks.1

A Song of Similes.

Tune-"If he be a Butcher neat and trim."

ON Cessnock banks a lassie dwells;
Could I describe her shape and mien;
Our lasses a' she far excels,

An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.

She's sweeter than the morning dawn,
When rising Phoebus first is seen,
And dew-drops twinkle o'er the lawn;
An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.

little money.

1 The lass is identified as Ellison Begbie, a servant wench, daughter of a farmer. She seems to have refused him while he was at Irvine, in 1781-82. No woman, he is said to have remarked, could have made him so happy. The poem is less Scottish than many of his

b look for.

early works, and more artificial in its recurrent rhymes.

The correct text first appeared in the Aldine edition of 1839, but Cromek had already printed the piece as taken down from "the lass" herself. Naturally the variations are numerous.

THE LASS OF CESSNOCK BANKS

She's stately like yon youthful ash,

That grows the cowslip braes between,
And drinks the stream with vigour fresh;
An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.

She's spotless like the flow'ring thorn,
With flow'rs so white and leaves so green,
When purest in the dewy morn ;

An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.

Her looks are like the vernal May,
When ev'ning Phoebus shines serene,
While birds rejoice on every spray;
An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.

Her hair is like the curling mist,

That climbs the mountain-sides at e'en,
When flow'r-reviving rains are past;
An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.

Her forehead's like the show'ry bow,
When gleaming sunbeams intervene
And gild the distant mountain's brow;
An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.

Her cheeks are like yon crimson gem,
The pride of all the flowery scene,

Just opening on its thorny stem ;

An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.

Her bosom's1 like the nightly snow,
When pale the morning rises keen,

While hid the murm'ring streamlets flow;
An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.

1 Emendation (by Scott Douglas) of teeth are, which comes in the next verse

but one. The correction disturbs the order of the description, however.

BONIE PEGGY ALISON

Her lips are like yon cherries ripe,
That sunny
walls from Boreas screen;
They tempt the taste and charm the sight
An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.

Her teeth are like a flock of sheep,
With fleeces newly washen clean,
That slowly mount the rising steep;
An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.

Her breath is like the fragrant breeze,
That gently stirs the blossom'd bean,
When Phoebus sinks behind the seas;
An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.

Her voice is like the ev'ning thrush,

That sings on Cessnock banks unseen,
While his mate sits nestling in the bush;
An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.

But it's not her air, her form, her face,
Tho' matching beauty's fabled queen ;
"Tis the mind that shines in ev'ry grace,
An' chiefly in her roguish een.

Song-Bonie Peggy Alison.1

Tune-"The Braes o' Balquhidder."

Chor.-And I'll kiss thee yet, yet,
And I'll kiss thee o'er again:
And I'll kiss thee yet, yet,
My bonie Peggy Alison.

1 Spoken of by Burns as "juvenile." Mr Scott Douglas plausibly conjectures that both Peggy, in this piece, and Mary Morison, in the next, are really Ellison, or Alison, Begbie.

The first verse is not in Johnson's copy (Museum ii. 1788), and was first given by Cromek.

MARY MORISON

Ilk care and fear, when thou art near
I evermair defy them, O!
Young kings upon their hansel throne
Are no sae blest as I am, O!

And I'll kiss thee yet, yet, &c.

When in my arms, wi' a' thy charms,
I clasp my countless treasure, O!
I seek nae mair o' Heaven to share
Than sic a moment's pleasure, O!

And I'll kiss thee yet, yet, &c.

And by thy een sae bonie blue,
I swear I'm thine for ever, O!
And on thy lips I seal my vow,
And break it shall I never, O!

And I'll kiss thee yet, yet, &c.

Song-Mary Morison.1

O MARY, at thy window be,

It is the wish'd, the trysted hour!
Those smiles and glances let me see,
That make the miser's treasure poor:
How blythely wad I bide the stour,b
A weary slave frae sun to sun,
Could I the rich reward secure,
The lovely Mary Morison.

Yestreen, when to the trembling string
The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha',

To thee my fancy took its wing,

I sat, but neither heard nor saw:
newly acquired.

1 On Mr Scott Douglas's hypothesis this song again refers to Miss Begbie. The metre is that which the French ballade introduced into old Scotch poetry, with a modern freedom from

b turmoil.

the recurrence of identical rhymes. By adding an envoy, and adhering to the same rhymes, the song would appear as a regular ballade.