The poetical works of Robert Burns, ed. by W.M. Rossetti. ed. by W.M. Rosetti [sic].

Gie me the groat again, canny young man;
Gie me the groat again, canny young man ;
The day it is short, and the night it is lang,
The dearest siller that ever I wan!

There's somebody weary wi' lying her lane
There's somebody weary wi' lying her lane;
There's some that are dowie,1 I trow wad be fain 2
To see the bit tailor come skippin' again.

YE HAE LIEN WRANG, LASSIE.

CHORUS.

YE hae lien a' wrang, lassie,
Ye've lien a' wrang;
Ye've lien in an unco3 bed,
And wi' a fremit1 man.

Your rosy cheeks are turn'd sae war,
Ye're greener than the grass, lassie ;
Your coatie's shorter by a span,

Yet ne'er an inch the less, lassie.

O lassie, ye hae play'd the fool,
And ye will feel the scorn, lassie ;
For aye the brose ye sup at e'en,

Ye bock them ere the morn, lassie.

Oh, ance ye danced upon the knowes,
And through the wood ye sang, lassie;
But in the herrying o' a bee byke,
I fear ye've got a stang, lassie.

THERE'S A YOUTH IN THIS CITY.

Tune-"Neil Gow's Lament."

THE first half stanza of this song is old; the rest by Burns.

THERE'S a youth in this city,

It were a great pity

1 Melancholy.

2 Glad.

5 Vomit

3 Strange.

4 Stranger.

When the drums do beat,
And the cannons rattle,
Thou shalt sit in state,

And see thy love in battle.

When the vanquish'd foe
Sues for peace and quiet,
To the shades we'll go,
And in love enjoy it.

OH, MERRY HAE I BEEN TEETHIN' A HECKLE.
Tune-"Lord Breadalbane's March."

OH, merry hae I been teethin' a heckle,
And merry hae I been shapin' a spoon;
And merry hae I been cloutin' a kettle,
And kissin' my Katie when a' was done.
Oh, a' the lang day I ca' at my hammer,
And a' the lang day I whistle and sing,
A' the lang night I cuddle my kimmer,1
And a' the lang night am as happy's a king.

Bitter in dool I lickit my winnin's,

O' marrying Bess, to gie her a slave: Blest be the hour she cool'd in her linens,

And blithe be the bird that sings on her grave! Come to my arms, my Katie, my Katie,

And come to my arms and kiss me again! Drunken or sober, here's to thee, Katie ! And blest be the day I did it again.

EPPIE ADAIR.

Tune-" My Eppie."

AND oh! my Eppie,
My jewel, my Eppie!
Wha wadna be happy
Wi' Eppie Adair?
By love, and by beauty,
By law, and by duty,
I swear to be true to
My Eppie Adair !

1 Fondle my dearie.

And oh my Eppie,
My jewel, my Eppie
Wha wadna be happy
Wi' Eppie Adair?
A' pleasure exile me,
Dishonour defile me.
If e'er I beguile thee,
My Eppie Adair !

YOUNG JOCKEY.

Tune-"Young Jockey."

"THE whole of this song," says Stenhouse, "excepting three or four lines, is the production of Burns.'

YOUNG Jockey was the blithest lad
In a' our town or here awa':

Fu' blithe he whistled at the gaud,1
Fu' lightly danced he in the ha'.
He roosed2 my een, sae bonny blue,

He roosed my waist sae genty sma',
And aye my heart came to my mou'
When ne'er a body heard or saw.

My Jockey toils upon the plain,

Through wind and weet, through frost and snaw; And o'er the lea I leuk fu' fain

When Jockey's owsen hameward ca',

And aye the night comes round again,
When in his arms he taks me a';

And aye he vows he'll be my ain,
As lang's he has a breath to draw.

WEE WILLIE GRAY.

WEE Willie Gray, and his leather wallet;
Peel a willow-wand to be him boots and jacket:

The rose upon the brier will be him trouse and doublet,
The rose upon the brier will be him trouse and doublet.

Wee Willie Gray, and his leather wallet,

Twice a lily flower will be him sark and cravat:
Feathers of a flee wad feather up his bonnet,
Feathers of a flee wad feather up his bonnet.

1 Plough.

2 Praised.

There's Lowrie the Laird o' Drumeller,
"Guid day to you, brute !" he comes ben;
He brags and he blaws o' his siller,

But when will he dance like Tam Glen?

The last Halloween I lay waukin'3
My droukit sark-sleeve, as ye ken;*
His likeness cam up the house staukin',
And the very gray breeks o' Tam Glen!

Come counsel, dear tittie! don't tarry-
I'll gie ye my bonny black hen,
Gif ye will advise me to marry
The lad I lo'e dearly-Tam Glen.

THE TAILOR.

Tune-"The tailor fell through the bed, thimbles and aʼ.”

THE tailor fell through the bed, thimbles and a';
The tailor fell through the bed, thimbles and a';
The blankets were thin, and the sheets they were sma',
The tailor fell through the bed, thimbles and a'.

The sleepy bit lassie, she dreaded nae ill;
The sleepy bit lassie, she dreaded nae ill;
The weather was cauld, and the lassie lay still,
She thought that tailor could do her nae ill.

1 Mother.

2 Bound.

3 Watching.

4 Wet.

* For an explanation of this old usage, see Note to Halloween, page 30.