GREEN GROW THE RASHES.

This is the first song that Burns contributed to Johnson's Museum of Scottish Songs, a work of great merit, extending to five 8vo. volumes, commenced in 1787, and concluded in 1794. Besides many original contributions to that work, upwards of one hundred and fifty of the old songs and ballads inserted in it bear traces of his hand.

CHORUS.

Green grow the rashes, O!
Green grow the rashes, () !
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend
Are spent amang the lasses, O!
THERE's nought but care on ev'ry han',
In ev'ry hour that passes, O;
What signifies the life o' man,
An' 'twere na for the lasses, O!
Green grow,
&c.

The warly race may riches chase,
And riches still will fly them, O;
And tho' at last they catch them fast,
Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O!
Green grow, &c.

But giel me a canniek hour at e'en,
My arms about my dearie, O;
An' warly cares, an' warly men,
May a' gae tapsalteerie,1 O !
Green grow, &c.

For you sae douce,m ye sneer at this,
Ye're nought but senseless asses, O;
The wisest man the warl' e'er saw,
He dearly lov'd the lasses, O!
Green grow, &c.

Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears,
Her noblest work she classes, O;

4 Worldly.

¿ Topsy-turvy.

1 Give.

k Convenient. m Sober, prudent.

Her 'prentice han' she tried on man,
And then she made the lasses, O!
Green grow, &c.

BONNIE ANN.

Burns composed this song out of compliment to Miss Ann Masterton, daughter of his friend Allan Masterton, author of the air of Strathallan's Lament,' 'Willie brewed a peck o' maut,' &c.

YE gallants bright I red" you right,

Beware o' bonnie Ann;

Her comely face sae fu' o' grace,
Your heart she will trepan.

Her een sae bright, like stars by night,
Her skin is like the swan;

Sae gimply laced her genty waist,
That sweetly ye might span.

Youth, grace, and love, attendant move,
And pleasure leads the van:

In a' their charms, and conquering arms,
They wait on bonnie Ann.

The captive bands may chain the hands,
But love enslaves the man;

Ye gallants braw, I red you a',
Beware o' bonnie Ann.

UP IN THE MORNING EARLY.

The chorus of this song is old.

CHORUS.

Up in the morning's no for me,
Up in the morning early;
When a' the hills are cover'd wi' snaw

I'm sure it's winter fairly.

CAULD blaws the wind frae east to west,

The drift is driving sairly;

n Counsel.

Elegantly formed.

p Drifted snow.

Sae loud and shill 'sa I hear the blast
I'm sure it's winter fairly.

Up in the morning, &c.

The birds sit chittering in the thorn,
A' day they fare but sparely;
And lang's the night frae e'en to morn,
I'm sure it's winter fairly.

Up in the morning, &c.

MY NANNIE, O.

In the earlic editions of this song the Stinchar was said to be Nannie's native stream; but afterwards the Poet replaced it with Lugar, for what reason he has not told us. Perhaps he had a similar one for changing his own name from Burness to Burns.

BEHIND yon hills where Lugar flows,
'Mang moors and mosses many, O,
The wint'ry sun the day has clos'd,
And I'll awa to Nannie, O.
The westlin' wind blaws loud an' shill;
The night's baith mirk and rainy, O
But I'll get my plaid, an' out I'll steal,
An' owre the hills to Nannie, O.

My Nannie's charming, sweet, an' young;
Nae artfu' wiles to win ye, O;
May ill befa' the flattering tongue
That wad beguile my Nannie, O
Her face is fair, her heart is true,
As spotless as she's bonnie, O;
The op'ning gowan wet wi' dew,
Nae purer is than Nannie, O.
A country lad is my degree,

An' few there be that kent me, O;
But what care I how few they be,
I'm welcome ay to Nannie, O

Shrill.

r Dark.

Wild daisy.

t Know.

My riches a''s my penny-fee,"
And I maun guide it cannie," 0;
But warl's gear ne'er troubles me,
My thoughts are a' my Nannie, O.
Our auld gudeman delights to view
His sheep an' kye thrive bonnie, O;
But I'm as blythe that hauds his pleugh,
An' has nae care but Nannie, Ö.
Come weal, come woe, I care na by,
I'll tak what Heav'n will sen' me, O;
Nae ither care in life hae I,

But live, an' love my Nannie, O.

O WHISTLE, AND I'LL COME TO YOU,
MY LAD.

The humour and fancy of "Whistle an' I'll come to you, my lad,' will render it nearly as great a favourite as Duncan Gray. These songs of yours will descend with the music to the latest posterity.-Thomson to Burns.

CHORUS.

O, whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad,
O, whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad,
Tho' father and mither and a' should gae mad,
O, whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad.

BUT warily tent, when ye come to court me,
And come na unless the back-yett2 be a-jee;
Syne up the back-style, and let naebody see,
And come as ye were na comin' to me:
And come as ye were na comin' to me.
O whistle, &c.

At kirk, or at market, whene'er ye meet me,
Gang by me as though that ye car'd na a flee:
But steal me a blink o' your bonnie black ee,
Yet look as ye were na looking at me:

Yet look as ye were na looking at me.

O whistle, &c.

u The wages earned and paid half-yearly, or yearly, to servants.

w Dexterously.

Worldly riches.

y Heed.

Ay vow and protest that ye care na for me,
And whiles ye may lightlyb my beauty a wee;
But court na anither, tho' jokin' ye be,
For fear that she wyled your fancy frae me :
For fear that she wyle your fancy frae me.
O whistle, &c.

O WERE MY LOVE YON LILAC FAIR.

The two last stanzas of this song are old. Burns
prefixed the two first.

Tune-Hughie Graham.

O WERE my love yon lilac fair,
Wi' purple blossom to the spring;
And I a bird to shelter there,

When wearied on my little wing:

How I wad mourn when it was torn,
By autumn wild and winter rude;
But I wad sing, on wanton wing,
When youthfu' May its bloom renew❜d.

O gine my love were yon red rose
That grows upon the castle wa',
And I mysel a drap o' dew,

Into her bonnie breast to fa':

O there beyond expression blest,
I'd feast on beauty a' the night;
Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
Till fley'd' awa by Phoebus' light.

& Sneer at.

c Little.

e If.

f Scared.

d Beguile.