THE LASS OF BALLOCHMYLE.'
Tune-"Miss Forbes's Farewell to Banff."
"TWAS even-the dewy fields were green;
On every blade the pearls hang;
The zephyrs wantoned round the bean,
And bore its fragrant sweets alang;
In every glen the mavis sang,
All Nature listening seemed the while,
Except where greenwood echoes rang,
Amang the braes o' Ballochmyle.
With careless step I onward strayed,
My heart rejoiced in Nature's joy,
When musing in a lonely glade,
A maiden fair I chanced to spy:
Her look was like the morning's eye,
Her air like Nature's vernal smile,
Perfection whispered, passing by,
Behold the lass o' Ballochmyle!
Fair is the morn in flowery May,
And sweet is night in autumn mild;
When roving through the garden gay,
Or wandering in the lonely wild:
But Woman, Nature's darling child!
There all her charms she does compile;
Ev'n there her other works are foiled
By the bonnie lass o' Ballochmyle.
O! had she been a country maid,
And I the happy country swain,
Though sheltered in the lowest shed
That ever rose on Scotland's plain;
Through weary winter's wind and rain,
With joy, with rapture I would toil;
And nightly to my bosom strain
The bonnie lass o' Ballochmyle!
Then pride might climb the slippery steep,
Where fame and honours lofty shine;
And thirst of gold might tempt the deep,
Or downward seek the Indian mine;
Give me the cot below the pine,
To tend the flocks, or till the soil,
And every day have joys divine
With the bonnie lass o' Ballochmyle.
1 Miss Wilhelmina Alexander, daughter of the proprietor of Balloch
[The second verse only of this song was written by Burns.]
O, WHARE did ye get that hauver meal bannock?
O, silly blind body, O dinna ye see?
I gat it frae a brisk young sodger laddie,
Between Saint Johnston and bonnie Dundee.
O gin I saw the laddie that ga'e me't!
Aft has he doudled me up on his knee;
May Heaven protect my bonnie Scots laddie,
And send him safe hame to his babie and me!
My blessin's upon thy sweet wee lippie,
My blessin's upon thy bonnie e'e bree!
Thy smiles are sae like my blythe sodger laddie,
Thou's aye be dearer and dearer to me!
But I'll big a bower on yon bonny banks,
Where Tay rins wimplin' by sae clear;
And I'll cleed thee in the tartan sae fine,
And mak' thee a man like thy daddie dear.
Tune-Maggie Lauder."
I MARRIED with a scolding wife
The fourteenth of November;
She made me weary of my life,
By one unruly member.
Long did I bear the heavy yoke,
And many griefs attended;
But, to my comfort be it spoke,
Now, now her life is ended.
We lived full one-and-twenty years
A man and wife together;
At length from me her course she steered,
And gone I know not whither.
Would I could guess, I do profess
I speak, and do not flatter-
Of all the women in the world,
I never could come at her.
Her body is bestowed well,
A handsome grave does hide her;
But sure her soul is not in hell-
The de'il could ne'er abide her.
I rather think she is aloft,
And imitating thunder;
For why-methinks I hear her voice
Tearing the clouds asunder.
THERE was a wife wonned in Cockpen,
Scroggam;
She brewed guid ale for gentlemen;
Sing auld Cowl, lay you down by me,
Scroggam, my dearie, ruffum.
The gudewife's dochter fell in a fever,
Scroggam;
The priest o' the parish fell in anither;
Sing auld Cowl, lay you down by me,
Scroggam, my dearie, ruffum.
They laid the twa i' the bed thegither,
That the heat o' the tane might cool the tither;
Sing auld Cowl, lay you down by me,
Scroggam, my dearie, ruffum.
[This song is inserted in the Musical Museum, where it is stated to have been written by Burns; consequently it is here inserted among his other songs.]
COME DOWN THE BACK STAIRS.
Tune-"Whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad."
O, WHISTLE, and I'll come
To you, my lad;
O, whistle, and I'll come
To you, my lad;
Though father and mither
Should baith gae mad,
O, whistle, and I'll come
To you, my lad.
I'M O'ER YOUNG TO MARRY YET.
Tune-"I'm o'er young to marry yet."
I AM my mammy's ae bairn,
Wi' unco folk I weary, sir;
And lying in a man's bed,
I'm fleyed wad mak' me eerie, sir.
I'm o'er young to marry yet;
I'm o'er young to marry yet;
I'm o'er young-'twad be a sin
To tak me frae my mammy yet.
My mammy coft' me a new gown,
The kirk maun ha'e the gracing o't;
Were I to lie wi' you, kind sir,
I'm feared ye 'd spoil the lacing o't.
Hallowmas is come and gane,
The nights are lang in winter, sir;
An' you an' I in ae bed
In trouth I dare na venture, sir.
Fu' loud and shrill the frosty wind
Blaws through the leafless timmer, sir;
But if ye come this gate again,
I'll aulder be gin simmer, sir.
I'm o'er young to marry yet;
I'm o'er young to marry yet;
I'm o'er young-'twad be a sin
To tak me frae my mammy yet.
Tune "The tither morn, as I forlorn."
YON wandering rill that marks the hill,
And glances o'er the brae, sir,
Slides by a bower where mony a flower,
Sheds fragrance on the day, sir.
There Damon lay with Sylvia gay,
To love they thought nae crime, sir;
The wild-birds sang, the echoes rang,
While Damon's heart beat time, sir.
THE BIRKS OF ABERFELDY.?
Tune-" "The Birks of Aberfeldy."
BONNIE lassie, will ye go,
Will ye go, will ye go;
Bonnie lassie, will ye go
To the birks of Aberfeldy ? 3
2 Burns says he wrote this song while standing under the Falls of Aberfeldy, near Moness, in Perthshire, in September, 1787.
3 Aberfeldy is in Aberdeenshire,
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