JAMIE, COME TRY ME.

Tune-"Jamie, come try me."

CHORUS.

JAMIE, come try me,
Jamie, come try me,
If thou wad win my love,
Jamie, come try me.

If thou should ask my love,
Could I deny thee?
If thou would win my love,
Jamie, come try me.

If thou should kiss me, love,
Wha could espy thee?
If thou wad be my love,
Jamie, come try me.

THE BATTLE OF KILLIECRANKIE.

Tune-"Killiecrankie."

THE chorus of this song, which celebrates the battle where Viscount Dundee fell in the moment of victory, is old; the rest is from the pen of Burns.

GUIDWIFE, COUNT THE LAWIN.

Tune-"Guidwife, count the lawin."

GANE is the day, and mirk's the night, But we'll ne'er stray for faut o' light, For ale and brandy's stars and moon, And blude-red wine's the rising sun.

Then, guidwife, count the lawin,
The lawin, the lawin;
Then, guidwife, count the lawin,
And bring a coggie1 mair.

There's wealth and ease for gentlemen,
And simple folk maun fecht and fen';
But here we're a' in ae accord,
For ilka man that's drunk's a lord.

My coggie is a haly pool,

That heals the wounds o' care and dool; And pleasure is a wanton trout,

An ye drink but deep ye'll find him out.

WHISTLE O'ER THE LAVE O'T.

Tune-"Whistle o'er the lave o't."

FIRST when Maggy was my care,
Heaven, I thought, was in her air;
Now we're married-spier nae mair-
Whistle o'er the lave o't.-
Meg was meek, and Meg was mild,
Bonny Meg was nature's child;
Wiser men than me's beguiled-
Whistle o'er the lave o't.

How we live, my Meg and me,
How we love, and how we 'gree,
I care na by how few may see-
Whistle o'er the lave o't.
Wha I wish were maggots' meat,
Dish'd up in her winding sheet,
I could write-but Meg maun see't-
Whistle o'er the lave o't.

1 Bumper.

OH, CAN YE LABOUR LEA.

OH, can ye labour lea, young man,
And can ye labour lea?
Gae back the gate ye cam again,
Ye'se never scorn me.

I fee'd a man at Martinmas,
Wi' airl-pennies three;
And a' the faut I fan' wi' him,
He couldna labour lea.

The stibble-rig is easy plough'd,
The fallow land is free;
But wha wad keep the handless coof,
That couldna labour lea?

WOMEN'S MINDS.

Tune-"For a' that."

THOUGH Women's minds, like winter winds,
May shift and turn, and a' that,
The noblest breast adores them maist,

A consequence I draw that.

For a' that, and a' that,

And twice as muckle's a' that,
The bonny lass that I lo'e best
She'll be my ain for a' that.

Great love I bear to all the fair,
Their humble slave, and a' that;
But lordly will, I hold it still,
A mortal sin to thraw that.

But there is ane aboon the lave,1
Has wit, and sense, and a' that;

A bonny lass, I like her best,

And wha a crime dare ca' that?

IT IS NA, JEAN, THY BONNY FACE.

Tune-"The Maid's Complaint."

"THESE Verses," says Cunningham,

were originally in English: Burns bestowed a Scottish dress upon them, and made them utter sentiments connected with his own affections.'

1 Rest.

IT is na, Jean, thy bonny 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.

MY LOVE SHE'S BUT A LASSIE YET,

Tune-"Lady Badinscoth's Reel.”

My love she's but a lassie yet,
My love she's but a lassie yet;
We'll let her stand a year or twa,
She'll no be half sae saucy yet.
I rue the day I sought her, O,

I rue the day I sought her, O;
Wha gets her needna say she's woo'd,
But he may say he's bought her, O!

Come, draw a drap o' the best o't yet;
Come, draw a drap o' the best o't yet;
Gae seek for pleasure where ye will,
But here I never miss'd it yet.
We're a' dry wi' drinking o't;
We're a' dry wi' drinking o't;
The minister kiss'd the fiddler's wife,
And couldna preach for thinkin' o't.

377

CA' THE EWES.

Tune-"Ca' the Ewes to the Knowes."

THE fourth and fifth stanzas of this song, written for the Museum, are old, with a few alterations by Burns. The version which follows this was written some time afterwards for Thomson's collection.