Her een sae bonnie blue betray How she repays my passion; But prudence is her o'er word aye, She talks o' rank and fashion. Oh, why, &c. Oh, wha can prudence think upon, Oh, wha can prudence think upon, And sae in love as I am? Oh, why, &c. How blest the humble cottar's fate! He woos his simple dearie; The silly bogles wealth and state Can never make him eerie. Oh, why, &c. THE LEA-RIG. BURNS. Air-"The Lea-Rig." WHEN o'er the hill the eastern star Tells bughtin-time is near, my jo, And owsen frae the furrow'd field Return sae dowf and weary 0; Down by the burn where scented birks Wi' dew are hanging clear, my jo, I'll meet thee on the lea-rig, My ain kind dearie O. In mirkest glen at midnicht hour If through that glen I gaed to thee, Although the night were ne'er sae wild, An' I were ne'er sae wearie O, I'd meet thee on the lea-rig, My ain kind dearie O. The hunter lo'es the morning sun, It maks my heart sae cheery O, My ain kind dearie O. Burns, in sending this song to George Thomson, which he had founded upon an olden composition with the same title, says, "Who shall rise up, and say, 'Go to! I will make a better' (then an old song)? For instance, on reading over the 'Lea-rig,' I immediately set trying my hand upon it, and after all, I could make nothing more of it than the following, which, Heaven knows, is poor enough!" The Autumn mourns her rip'ning corn 'Tis not the surging billows' roar, Farewell, old Coila's hills and dales, Farewell, my friends! farewell, my foes! AGAIN REJOICING NATURE SEES. BURNS. Air-"I wish my love were in a myre." AGAIN rejoicing Nature sees Her robe assume its vernal hue, And maun I still on Menie doat, And fear the scorn that's in her ee? In vain to me the cowslips blaw; The merry ploughboy cheers his team ; A dream of ane that never wauks. The wanton coot the water skims ; And maun I still, &e. The shepherd steeks his faulding slaps, And maun I still, &c. And when the lark, 'tween light and dark, Come, Winter, with thine angry howl, And maun I still on Menie doat, And bear the scorn that's in her ee? For it's jet, jet black, and it's like a hawk, The chorus of this song is the composition of a gentleman in Edinburgh, a friend of Robert Burns. 'Menie' is a term of endearment for Marianne. "We cannot," says Dr. Currie, " presume to alter any of the poems of our bard, and more especially those printed under his own direction; yet it is to be regretted that this chorus, which is not his own composition, should be attached to these fine stanzas, as it perpetually interrupts the train of sentiment which they excite." Mr. George Thomson, in printing the music, with Burns's poetry, omitted the chorus and the fourth stanza. THE BIRKS OF ABERFELDY. BURNS. BONNIE lassie, will ye go, will ye go, will ye go; Now simmer blinks on flowery braes, While o'er their head the hazels hing, Or lichtly flit on wanton wing, In the birks of Aberfeldy. The braes ascend like lofty wa's, The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi' flowers, The birks of Aberfeldy. Let Fortune's gifts at random flee, In the birks of Aberfeldy. This song was written for "Johnson's Musical Museum," to the air of The birks of Aberfeldy." From the original song Burns borrowed nothing but the chorus. The air is to be found, with some variations, in Playford's "Dancing Master," 1657. |