BONIE JEAN How I wad mourn when it was torn O gin my love were yon red rose, Into her bonie breast to fa'! Bonie Jean-A Ballad.1 To its ain tune. THERE was a lass, and she was fair, And aye she wrought her mammie's wark, But hawks will rob the tender joys Young Robie was the brawest lad, BONIE JEAN He gaed wi' Jeanie to the tryste, Her heart was tint, her peace was stown! As in the bosom of the stream, The moon-beam dwells at dewy e'en; And now she works her mammie's wark, Or what wad make her weel again. But did na Jeanie's heart loup light, The sun was sinking in the west, "O Jeanie fair, I lo'e thee dear; "At barn or byre thou shalt na drudge, Now what could artless Jeanie do? 1 This verse, of which Burns was proud, is wanting in early copies. 2 "Thy handsome foot thou shalt na set In barn or byre to trouble thea." THE EARL OF GALLOWAY Lines on John M'Murdo, Esq.1 BLEST be M'Murdo to his latest day! Epitaph on a Lap-dog.2 IN wood and wild, ye warbling throng, Now, half extinct your powers of song, Ye jarring, screeching things around, Epigrams against the Earl of Galloway. WHAT dost thou in that mansion fair? Flit, Galloway, and find Some narrow, dirty, dungeon cave, The picture of thy mind. No Stewart art thou, Galloway, 1 This gentleman was the fathor of Bonie Jean. 2 This hound was the property of the lady of Kenmure, with whom Burns dined in July 1793. • Why Burns detested Lord Galloway is not known, nor is it important to know. The same remark applies to the Laird of Laggan. The rhymes were made during a tour in Galloway with a Mr Syme. PHILLIS THE FAIR Bright ran thy line, O Galloway, Spare me thy vengeance, Galloway! I ask no kindness at thy hand, Epigram on the Laird of Laggan. WHEN Morine, deceas'd, to the Devil went down, "Twas nothing would serve him but Satan's own crown; "Thy fool's head," quoth Satan, "that crown shall wear never, I grant thou'rt as wicked, but not quite so clever " Song.-Phillis the Fair.1 Tune-"Robin Adair." WHILE larks, with little wing, Gay the sun's golden eye Peep'd o'er the mountains high; Such thy morn! did I cry, Phillis the fair. In each bird's careless song, While yon wild-flowers among, 1 The heroine is Miss Phyllis M'Murdo. BY ALLAN STREAM Sweet to the op'ning day, Down in a shady walk, Song.-Had I a Cave.1 Tune-"Robin Adair." HAD I a cave on some wild distant shore, There seek my lost repose, Till grief my eyes should close, Falsest of womankind, can'st thou declare What peace is there! Song.-By Allan Stream.2 By Allan stream I chanc'd to rove, 1 The falsest of women jilted a Mr Cunningham for a Dr Dewar. 2 Written on August 1794. The song pleased the poet, more than it delighted his admirers. |