THE BANKS OF THE DEVON.

These verses were composed on Miss Hamilton,* sister tc
Gavin Hamilton, of Mauchline.

Devon,

How pleasant the banks of the clear-winding
[blooming fair;
With green-spreading bushes, and flowers
But the bonniest flower on the banks of the Devon
Was once a sweet bud on the braes of the Ayr.
Mild be the sun on this sweet blushing flower,
In the gay rosy morn as it bathes in the dew!
And gentle the fall of the soft vernal shower,

But, oh! she's an heiress, auld Robin's a laird, And my daddie has nought but a cot-house and

yard;

A wooer like me maunna hope to come speed,
The wounds I must hide that will soon be my dead.
The day comes to me, but delight brings me nane;
The night comes to me, but my rest it is gane;
I wander my lane, like a night-troubled ghaist,
And I sigh as my heart it wad burst in my breast.
O had she but been of a lower degree,

I then might hae hop'd she wad smil'd upon me;
O how past describing had then been my bliss,
As now my distraction no words can express!

THE BRAW WOOER.

The original of this song, the Lothian Lassie, consisted of som nine or ten very silly verses; one of them may be quoted :-

'The mither cried butt the house, Jockie come here,
Ye 've naething to do but the question to speir-
The question was speir'd, and the bargain was struck,
The neebours came in and wish'd them gude luck.'

Tune.-Lothian Lassie.

me,

LAST May a brawn wooer cam down the lang glen,
And sair wi' his love he did deave me ;
I said there was naething I hated like men!
The deuce gae wi' 'm to believe me, believe
The deuce gae wi' 'm to believe me.
He spak o' the darts in my bonnie black een,
And vow'd for my love he was dying:
I said he might die when he liked, for Jean,
The Lord forgie me for lying, for lying,
The Lord forgie me for lying.

A weel-stocked mailen,P himsel for the laird,
And marriage, aff-hand, were his proffers,

Handsome.

• Deafen.

PA well stocked farm.

I never loota on that I kend it, or car'd,
But thought I might hae waur" offers,waur offers,
But thought I might hae waur offers.

But what wad ye think? in a fortnight or less,
(The deil tak his taste to gae near her!)
He up the lang loan to my black cousin Bess,
Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her, could
bear her,

Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her.
But a' the neist week as I fretted wi' care,
I gaed to the trystes o' Dalgarnock,
And wha but my fine fickle wooer was there;
I glowr'dt as I'd seen a warlock," a warlock,
I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock.

But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink,
Lest neebors might say I was saucy;
My wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink,
And vow'd I was his dear lassie, dear lassic,
And vow'd I was his dear lassie.

I spier'dw for my cousin, fu' couthy and sweet,
Gin she had recover'd her hearin',

And how her new shoony fit her auld shackl'd feet;
But, heavens! how he fell a-swearin', a-swearin',
But, heavens! how he fell a-swearin'.

He begged, for gudesake! I wad be his wife,
Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrow:

So, e'en to preserve the poor body in life,

I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow, I think I maun wed him to-morrow.

WHAT CAN A YOUNG LASSIE DO WI' AN AULD MAN?

Burns is indebtea to an old song for the following happy and very graphic verses. They were written for Johnson's Museum. Tune.-What can a lassie do?

WHAT can a young lassie, what shall a young lassie,
What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man?
Bad luck on the pennie that tempted my minnie2
To sell her poor Jenny for siller an' lan'!
Bad luck on the pennie, &c.

He's always compleenin' frae mornin' to eʼenin',
He hosts and he hirples the weary day lang;
He's doyl'te and he's dozin', his bluid it is frozen,
O dreary's the night wi' a crazy auld man!
He's doyl't and he 's dozin', &c.

He hums and he hankers, he frets and he cankers,
I never can please him, do a' that I can;
He's peevish and jealous of a' the young fellows,
O doold on the day I met wi' an auld man!
He's peevish and jealous, &c.

My auld auntie Katie upon me taks pity,

I'll do my endeavour to follow her plan: I'll cross him, and wrack him, until I heart-break

him,

And then his auld brass will buy me a new pan.
I'll cross him, and wrack him, &c.

HEY FOR A LASS WI' A TOCHER.

Your Hey for a lass wi' a tocher' is excellent, and with you the subject is new indeed. It is the first time I have seen you debasing the god of soft desire into an amateur of acres and guineas.-Thomson.

Tune.-Balinamona ora.

AWA wi' your witchcraft o' beauty's alarms, The slender bit beauty you grasp in your arms;

z Mother.

a Coughs.

c Stupid.

¿Creeps, or walks crazily

d Sorrow.

O gie me the lass that has acres o' charms, gie me the lass wi' the weel-stockit farms.

CHORUS.

Then hey for a luss wi' a tocher,e
Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher,
Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher;
The nice yellow guineas for me.

Your beauty's a flower in the morning that blows,
And withers the faster, the faster it grows;
But the rapturous charm o' the bonnie green
[yowes.8
Ilk spring they're new deckit wi' bonnie white
Then hey, &c.

knowes,

And ev'n when this beauty your bosom has blest, The brightest o' beauty may cloy when possest; But the sweet yellow darlings wi' Geordie imprest, The langer ye hae them—the mair they're carest. Then hey, &c.

THE BIG-BELLY'D BOTTLE.

To two old bottle' songs we are partly indebted for the following verses. From the one the Poet has borrowed the title; from the other the tune.

Tune.-Prepare, my dear brethren, to the tavern let's fly. No churchman am I for to rail and to write, No statesman or soldier to plot or to fight, No sly man of business contriving some snare, For a big-belly'd bottle's the whole of my care. The peer I don't envy, I give him his bow; I scorn not the peasant, though ever so low; But a club of good fellows, like those that are here, And a bottle like this, are my glory and care. Here passes the squire on his brother-his horse; There centum per centum the cit with his purse;

✔ A marriage portion

f Hillocks.

Ewes.