To Daunton Me
(Robert Burns)
The blude-red rose at Yule may blaw,
The simmer lilies bloom in snaw,
The frost may freeze the deepest sea,
But an auld man shall never daunton me.
ch. To daunton me, to daunton me,
An auld man shall never daunton me!
To daunton me, and me sae young,
Wi his fause heart and flatt'ring tongue
That is the thing you ne'er shall see,
For an auld man shall never daunton me.
For a' his meal and a' his maut,
For a' his fresh beef and his saut,
For a' his gold and white monie,
An auld man shall never daunton me.
His gear may buy him kye and yowes,
His gear may buy him glens and knowes;
But me he shall not buy nor fee,
For an auld man shall never daunton me.
He hirples twa-fauld as he dow,
Wi his teethless gab and his auld beld pow,
And the rain rins down frae his red blear'd e'e-
That auld man shall never daunton me!
tune[To Daunton Me (209)
filename[ DAUNTNME
play.exe DAUNTNME
Tibbie Dunbar
(Robert Burns)
O, wilt thou go wi' me, sweet Tibbie Dunbar?
O, wilt thou go wi' me, sweet Tibbie Dunbar?
Wilt thou ride on a horse, or be drawn in a car,
Or walk by my side, O sweet Tibbie Dunbar?
I care na thy daddie, his lands and his money;
I care na thy kin, sae high and sae lordly;
But sae that thou'lt hae me for better or waur,
And come in thy coatie, sweet Tibbie Dunbar,
tune: Johny McGill (285)
filename[ TBIEDNBR
play.exe TBIEDNBR
FRAE THE FRIENDS AND LAND I LOVE
(Robert Burns)
Frae the friends and land I love
Driv'n by Fortune's felly spite,
Frae my best belov'd I rove,
Never mair to taste delight
Never mair maun hope to find
Ease frae toil, relief frae care.
When remembrance wracks the mind,
Pleasures but unveil despair.
Brightest climes shall mirk appear,
Desert ilka blooming shore,
Till the Fates, nae mair severe,
Friendship, love, and peace restore;
Till Revenge, wi' laurell'd head,
Bring our banish'd hame again,
And ilk loyal, bonie lad
Cross the seas, and win his ain!
Tune: Carron Side (341)
filename[ FRAELOVE
Play.exe FRAELOVE
Five Carlins
(Robert Burns)
There was five carlins in the South,
They fell upon a scheme,
To send a lad to London town,
To bring them tidings hame.
Not only bring them tidings hame,
But do their errands there;
And aiblins gowd and honor baith
Might be that laddie's share.
There was Maggie by the banks o Nith,
A dame wi pride eneugh;
And Marjorie o' the Monie Lochs,
A carlin auld and teugh.
And Blinkin Bess of Annandale,
That dwelt near Solway-side;
And Brandy Jean, that took her gill,
In Galloway sae wide.
And Black Joan, frae Crichton-Peel,
0' gipsy kith an kin:
Five wighter carlins were na found
The South countrie within.
To send a lad to London town,
They met upon a day;
And monie a knight, and monie a laird,
This errand fain wad gae.
0, monie a knight, and monie a laird,
This errand ain wad gae;
But nae ane could their fancy please,
0, ne'er a ane but tway!
The first ane was a belted Knight,
Bred of a Border band;
And he wad gae to London Town,
Might nae man him withstand.
And he wad do their errands weel,
And meikle he wad say;
And ilka ane at London court
Wad bid to him Guid-day.
The neist cam in a Soger youth
And spak wi' modest grace;
And he wad gang to London Town,
If sae their pleasure was
He wad na hecht them courtly gifts,
Nor meikle speech pretend;
But he wad hecht an honest heart
Wad ne'er desert his friend.-
Now wham to chuse, and wham refuse,
At strife thir Carlins fell;
For some had Gentle Folk to please,
And some wad please themsel.-
Then up spak mim-mou'd Meg o'Nith,
And she spak up wi'pride,
And she wad send the Sodger-lad
Whatever might betide.-
For the Auld Gudeman o'London Court,
She didna care a pin;
But she wad send the Sodger-lad,
To greet his eldest son.-
Then started Bess of Annandale,
A deadly aith she's taen,
That she wad vote the Border-knight,
Tho' she should vote her lane.-
'For far-off fowls hae feathers fair,
'And fools o' change are fain;
'But I hae try'd this Border-knight,
'I'll try him yet again.
Says black Jan frae Crighton-peel,
A Carlin stoor and grim;
"The Auld Gudeman, or the Young Gudeman,
For me may sink or swim."
"For fools will prate o' Right and Wrang,
While knaves laugh them to scorn;
But the Solder's friends hae blawn the best,
So he shall bear the horn."
Then Brandy Jean spak o'er her drink,
Ye weel ken, kimmers a',
The Auld Gudeman o'. London Court,
His back's been at the wa':
And mony a friend that kiss'd his caup,
Is now a fremit wight;
But it's ne'er be sae wi' Brandy Jean,
We'll send the Border-knight.'
Then slaw rase Marjory o' the lochs,
And wrinkled was her brow;
Her ancient weed was russet-grey,
Her auld Scots heart was true.-
There's some Great Folk set light by me,
I set as light by them;
But I will send to London town
Whom I lo'e best at hame.'-
So how this weighty plea may end,
Nae mortal wight can tell:
God grant the king, and ilka man,
May look weel to themsel.-
tune: Chevy Chase (269)
filename[ FIVECRLN
play.exe FIVECRLN
FETE CHAMPETRE
(Robert Burns)
O, wha will to Saint Stephen's House,
To do our errands there, man?
O, wha will to Saint Stephen's House
O, th' merry lads of Ayr, man?
Or will ye send a man-o-law?
Or will ye send a sodger?
Or him wha led o'er Scotland a'
The meikle Ursa-Major?
Come, will ye court a noble lord,
Or buy a score o' lairds, man?
For Worth and Honour pawn their word.
Their vote shall be Glencaird's, man.
Ane gies them coin, ane gies them wine,
Anither gies them clatter;
Anbank, wha guess'd the ladies' taste,
He gies a Fete Champetre.
When Love and Beauty heard the news
The gay green-woods amang, man,
Where, gathering flowers, and busking bowers,
They heard the blackbird's sang, man:
A vow, they seal'd it with a kiss,
Sir Polities to fetter:
As their alone, the patent bliss,
To hold a Fete Champetre.
Then mounted Mirth on gleesome wing,
O'er hill and dale she flew, man;
Ilk wimpling burn, ilk crystal spring,
Ilk glen and shaw she knew, man
She summon'd every social sprite,
That sports by wood or water,
On th' bonie banks of Ayr to meet,
And keep this Fete Champetre.
Cauld Boreas, wi his boisterous crew
Were bound to stakes like kye, man;
And Cynthia's ear, o silver fu,
Clamb up the starry sky, man:
Reflected beams dwell in the streams,
Or down the current shatter;
The western breeze steals through the trees
To view this Fete Champetre.
How many a robe sae gaily floats,
What sparkling jewels glance, man,
To harmony's enchanting notes,
As moves the mazy dance, man!
The echoing wood, the winding flood,
Like Paradise did glitter,
When angels met at Adam's yett
To hold their Fete Champetre.
When Politics came there, to mix
And make his ether-stane, man,
He circled round the magic ground,
But entrance found he nane, man:
He blush'd for shame, he quat his name,
Forswore it, every letter,
Wi humble prayer to join and share
This festive Fete Champetre.
tune:Killicrankie (313)
filename[FCHMPTRE
play.exe FCHMPTRE
Eppie Adair
(Robert Burns)
By love and by beauty,
By law and by duty,
I swear to be true to
My Eppie Adair!
CHORUS
An O my Eppie, my jewel, my Eppie!
Wha wadna be happy wi Eppie Adair?
A' pleasure exile me,
Dishonor defile me,
If e'er I beguile thee,
My Eppie Adair!
tune: My Eppie (307)
filename[ EPIEADIR
play.exe EPIEADIR
Comin' Thro the Rye
(Robert Burns)
O, Jenney's a'weet poor body,
Jenny's seldom dry;
She draigl't a' her petticoattie
Comin thro' the rye.
chorus:
Comin thro the rye, poor body,
Comin thro the rye,
She draigl't a'her petticoatie,
Comin thro the rye!
Gin a body meet a body
Comin thro the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body,
Need a body cry ?
Gin a body meet a body
Comin thro the glen,
Gin a body kiss a body,
Need the warld ken?
Tune: Miller's Wedding (560)
filename[ COMTHRYE
play.exe COMTHRYE
DUNCAN GRAY
(Robert Burns)
Weary fa' you, Duncan Gray!
(Ha, ha, the girdin o't!)
Wae gae by you, Duncan Gray!
(Ha, ha, the girdin o't!)
When a' the lave gae to their play,
Then I maun sit the lee-lang day,
And jeeg the cradle wi my tae,
And a' for the girdin o't!
Bonie was the lammas moon,
(Ha, ha, the girdin o't!)
Glow'rin a'the hills, aboon,
(Ha, ha, the girdin o't!)
The girdin brak, the beast cam down,
I tint my curch and baith my shoon,
And, Duncan, ye're an unco loun-
Wae on the bad girdin o't!
But, Duncan, gin ye'll keep your aith,
(Ha, ha, the girdin o't!),
I'se bless you wi my hindmost breath,
(Ha, ha, the girdin o't!)
Duncan, gin ye'll keep your aith,
The beast again can bear us baith,
And auld Mess John will mend the skaith,
And clout the bad girdin o't.
tune: Duncan Gray (394)
filename[ DNCNGRAY
play.exe DNCNGRAY
Dainty Davie
(Robert Burns)
Meet me on the Warlock Knowe,
Dainty Davie, Dainty Davie!
There I'll spend the day wi' you,
My ain dear Dainty Davie.
Now rosy May comes in wi' flowers
To deck her gay, green-spreading bowers;
And now comes in the happy hours
To wander wi my Davie.
The crystal waters round us fa'
The merry birds are lovers a',
The scented breezes round us blaw
A wandering wi my Davie.
When purple morning starts the hare
To steal upon her early fare,
Then thro the dews I will repair
To meet my faithfu' Davie.
When day, expiring in the west,
The curtain draws o Nature's rest,
I flee to his arms I loe the best:
And that's my ain dear Davie!
This song is closely aligned with
"There Was A Lad" that is sung to
the same tune.
Tune:Dainty Davie (140)
filename[ DNTDAVE
play.exe DNTDAVE
CRAIGIEBURN WOOD
(Robert Burns)
Sweet closes the ev'ning on Craigieburn Wood
And blythely awaukens the morrow;
But the pride o' the spring on the Craigieburn Wood
Can yield me naught but sorrow.
cho: Beyond thee, dearie, beyond thee, dearie,
And O, to be lying beyond thee!
O, sweetly, soundly, weel may he sleep
That's laid in the bed beyond thee!
I see the spreading leaves and flowers,
I hear the wild birds singing;
But pleasure they hae nane for me,
While care my heart is wringing.
I can na tell, I maun na tell,
I daur na for your anger;
But secret love will brak my heart,
If I conceal it langer.
I see thee gracefu, straight, and tall,
I see thee sweet and bonie;
But O, what will my torment be,
If thou refuse thy Johnie!
To see thee in another's arms
In love to lie and languish,
'Twad be my dead, that will be seen-
My heart wad burst wi anguish!
But, Jeanie, say thou wilt be mine,
Say thou lo'es nane before me,
And a' my days o' life to come
I'll gratefully adore thee.
Tune: Craigieburn Wood (340)
filename[ CRAIGIE
play.exe CRAIGIE
A Waukrife Minnie
(Robert Burns)
'Whare are you gaun, my bonie lass ?
Whare are you gaun, my hinnie?'
She answer'd me right saucilie-
'An errand for my minnie!'
'O whare live ye, my bonie lass?
O, whare live ye, my hinnie?'
'By yon burnside, gin ye maun ken,
In a wee house wi my minnie!'
But I foor up the glen at e'en,
To see my bonie lassie;
And lang before the grey morn cam,
She was na hauf sae saucy.
O, weary fa' the waukrife cock,
And the foumart lay his crawin!
He wauken'd the auld wife frae her sleep,
A wee blink or the dawin.
An angry wife I wat she raise,
And o'er the bed she brought her,
And wi a meikle hazel-rung
She made her a weel-pay'd dochter.
O fare, thee-weel, my bonie lass,
'O, fare, thee-weel, my hinnie!
Thou art a gay and a bonie lass,
But thou has a waukrife minnie!'
tune: A waukrife minnie (311)
filename[ WAUKMINI
play.exe WAUKMINI
A Pint o Wine
(Robert Burns)
Yestreen I had a pint o wine,
A place where body saw na;
Yestreen lay on this breast o' mine
The gowden locks of Anna.
The hungry Jew in wilderness
Rejoicing o'er his manna
Was naething to my hiney bliss
Upon the lips of Anna.
Ye Monarchs take the East and West
Frae Indus to Savannah:
Gie me within my straining grasp
The melting form of Anna!
There I'll despise Imperial charms,
While dying raptures in her arms,
I give an take wi Anna!
Awa, thou flaunting God of Day!
Awa, thou pale Diana!
Ilk Star, gae hide thy twinkling ray,
When I'm to meet my Anna!
Come, in thy raven plumage, Night
(Sun, Moon, and Stars, withdrawn a',)
And bring an Angel-pen to write
My transports with my Anna!
POSTSCRIPT
The Kirk an State may join, an tell
To do sic things I maunna:
The Kirk an State may gae to Hell,
And I'll gae to my Anna.
She is the sunshine o' my e'e,
To live but her I canna:
Had I on earth but wishes three,
The first should be my Anna.
tune: Banks of Banna (320)
filename[ PINTWINE
play.exe PINTWINE
A MAN'S A MAN FOR ALL THAT
or IS THERE FOR HONEST POVERTY
by Robert Burns
Is there for honest poverty
That hangs his head, an' a' that
The coward slave, we pass him by
We dare be poor for a' that
For a' that, an' a' that
The rank is but the guinea's stamp
The man's the gowd for a' that
What though on hamely fare we dine
Wear hoddin grey, an' a' that
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine
A man's a man, for a' that
For a' that, an' a' that
Their tinsel show an' a' that
The honest man, though e'er sae poor
Is king o' men for a' that
Ye see yon birkie ca'd a lord
Wha struts an' stares an' a' that
Tho' hundreds worship at his word
He's but a coof for a' that
For a' that, an' a' that
The man o' independent mind
He looks an' laughs at a' that
A prince can mak' a belted knight
A marquise, duke, an' a' that
But an honest man's aboon his might
Gude faith, he maunna fa' that
For a' that an' a' that
Their dignities an' a' that
The pith o' sense an' pride o' worth
Are higher rank that a' that
Then let us pray that come it may
(as come it will for a' that)
That Sense and Worth, o'er a' the earth
Shall bear the gree an' a' that
For a' that an' a' that
It's coming yet for a' that
That man to man, the world o'er
Shall brithers be for a' that
printed in Cole
filename[ MANSAMAN
play.exe MANSAMAN
Hey Tuti Tatey
(Robert Burns)
Landlady count the lawin,
The day is near the dawin,
Ye're a'blind drunk, boys,
And I'm jolly fou.
ch. Hey tuti tatey, How tuti taiti,
Hey tuti taiti, wha's fou now.
Cog an ye were ay fou,
Cog an ye were ay fou;
I wad sit and sing to you,
If ye were ay fou.
Weel may we a'be,
Ill may we never see!
God bless the King
And the Companie!
tune: Hey tuti tatey (206)
filename[ TUTITATY
play.exe TUTITATY
Green Sleeves
(Robert Burns)
Green sleeves and tartan ties
Mark my true love where she lies;
I'll be at her or she rise,
My fiddle and I thegither,-
Be it by the chrystal burn,
Be it by the mill-white thorn,
I shall rouse her in the morn,
My fiddle and I thegither.-
tune:Green Sleeves (280)
filename[ GRNSLVS2
play.exe GRNSLVS
Musing on the Roaring Ocean
(Robert Burns)
Musing on the roaring ocean,
Which divides my love and me,
Wearying heav'n in warm devotion
For his weal where'er he be.
Hope and Fear's alternate billow
Yielding late to Nature's law,
Whisp'ring spirits round my pillow,
Talk of him that's far awa.
Ye whom sorrow never wounded,
Ye who never shed a tear,
Care-untroubled, joy-surrounded,
Gaudy day to you is dear!
Gentle night, do thou befriend me!
Downy sleep, the curtain draw!
Spirits kind, again attend me,
Talk of him that's far awa!
tune: Druimoinn dubh (208)
filename[ ROAROCAN
play.exe ROAROCAN
Whistle O'er the Lave O't
(Robert Burns)
First when Maggie was my care,
Heav'n, I thought, was in her air;
Now we're married, speir nae mair,
But - whistle o'er the lave o't!
Meg was meek, and Meg was mild,
Sweet and harmless as a child:
Wiser men than me's beguil'd-
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 maggot's meat,
Dish'd up in her winding-sheet,
I could write (but Meg may see't)
Whistle o'er the lave o't!
tune: Whistle o'er the lave o't (235)
filename[WHSTLAVE
play.exe WHISTLAVE
My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose
(Robert Burns)
0, my luve is like a red, red rose,
that's newly sprung in June.
0, my love is like a melodie,
that's sweetly play'd in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
so deep in luve am I,
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
till a' the seas gang dry.
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
and the rocks melt wi' the sun!
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
while the sands of life shall run.
And fare the weel, my only luve!
And fare the well awhile!
And I will come again, my love.
Tho it were ten thousand mile!
Tune:Major Graham's Red Red Rose (453)
filename[ REDREDRO
play.exe REDREDRO
YE HAE LIEN WRANG, LASSIE
cho: Ye hae I ien wrang, lassie,
Ye've lien a' wrang,
Ye've lien in some unco bed,
And wi'some unco man.
Your rosy cheeks are turn'd sae wan,
Ye're greener than the grass, lassie,
Your coatie's shorter by a span,
Yet deil an inch the less, lassie.
Ye've loot the powny o'er the dyke,
And he's been in the corn, lassie;
For ay the brose ye sup at e'en,
Ye bock them ere the morn, lassie.
Fu' lightly lap ye o'er the knowe,
And thro' the wood ye sang, lassie;
But herrying o' the foggie byke,
I fear ye've got a stang, lassie.
Collected by Robert Burns. Tune is Nae Luck Aboot the Hoose RG
filename[ YELIENLS
play.exe YELIENLS
Peck o' Maut
(Robert Burns)
O, Willie brew'd a peck o maut,
And Rob and Alan cam to see.
Three blyther hearts, that lee-lang night,
Ye wad na found in Christendie.
CHORUS
We are na fou, we'fe nae that fou,
But just a drappie in our e'e;
The cock may craw, the day may daw,
And ay we'll taste the barley bree.
Here are we met, three merry boys,
Three merry boys I trow are we;
And monie a night we've merry been,
And monie mare we hope to be!
It is the moon, I ken her horn,
That's blinkin in the lift sae hie:
She shines sae bright to wyle us hame,
But, by my sooth, she'll wait a wee!
Wha first shall rise to gang awa,
A cuckold, coward loun is he!
Wha first beside his chair shall fa',
He is the King amang us three!
tune: Willie brewed a peck o' maut (268)
filename[ PECKMAUT
play.exe PECKMAUT
We're Geyly Yet
(Robert Burns)
We're geyly yet, we're geyly yet,
We're no' very fu' but we're geyly yet!
So sit ye doon and tipple a while,
We're no' very fu' but we're geyly yet.
cho:
So up wi'it, up wi' it Aylie O
Up wi'it, up wi' it Aylie O.
Up wi' it Aylie, up wi'it Aylie
And we'll a' get roarin' fu'.
There were three lads and they were clad
There were three lasses and them they had,
Three trees in the orchard are new sprung,
For we's got gear enough we's but young.
Rin Jock Tamson, ye maun rin;
Gin ye never ran in your life !
There's a man wi' his hand in your neal pock,
And anither in bed wi' your wife !
Then Jock Tamson he did rin,
And he ran wi' muckle speed,
But before he'd got the half o' his length
The loon had done his deed.
From the Scone Ceilidh Spng Book
filename[ GEYLYYET
play.exe GEYLYYET
Where Helen Lies
(Robert Burns)
O that I were where Helen lies,
Night and day on me she cries;
O that I were where Helen lies
In fair Kirkconnel lee.
O Helen fair beyond compare,
A ringlet of thy flowing hair,
I'll wear it still for ever mair
Until the day I die.
Curs'd be the hand that shot the shot.
And curs'd the gun that gave the crack!
Into my arms bird Helen lap,
And died for sake o me!
O think na ye but my heart was sair;
My Love fell down and spake nae mair;
There did she swoon wi meikle care
On fair Kirkconnel lee.
I lighted down, my sword did draw,
I cutted him in pieces sma';
I cutted him in pieces sma'
On fair Kirkconnel lee.
O Helen chaste, thou wert modest,
If I were with thee I were blest
Where thou lies low and takes thy rest
On fair Kirkconnel lee.
I wish my grave was growing green,
A winding sheet put o'er my e'en,
And I in Helen's arms lying
In fair Kirkconnel lee!
I wish I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries:
O that I were where Helen lies
On fair Kirkconnel lee.
tune: Where Helen Lies (203)
filename[ HELNLIES
play.exe HELNLIES
Where, Braving Angry Winter's Storms
(Robert Burns)
Where, braving angry winter's storms,
The lofty Ochils rise,
Far in their shade my Peggy's charms
First blest my wondering eyes:
As one who by some savage stream
A lonely gem surveys,
Astonish'd doubly, marks its beam
With art's most polish'd blaze.
Blest be the wild, sequester'd glade,
And blest the day and hour,
Where Peggy's charms I first survey'd,
When first I felt their pow'r!
The tyrant Death, with prim control
May seize my fleeting breath,
But tearing Peggy from my soul
Must be a stronger death.
tune: Neil Gow's lament for Abercairny (182)
filename[ BRVWNSTM
play.exe BRVWNSTM
WHEN WILD WAR'D DEADLY BLAST
(Robert Burns)
When wild war's deadly blast was blawn,
And gentle peace returning,
Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless
And mony a widow mourning.
I left the lines and tented field
Where lang I'd been a lodger
My humble knapsack all my wealth
A poor but honest sodger.
At length I reached the bonnie glen
Where early life I sported;
I pass'd the mill and trysting thorn
Where Nancy oft I courted.
Wha spied I but my ain dear maid
Down by her mother's dwelling,
And turn'd me round to hide the flood
That in my e'e was swelling.
She gazed, she redden'd like a rose
Syne pale as any lily,
She sank within my arms and cried,
"Art thou my ain dear Willie?"
"By Him that made you sun and sky
By whom true love's regarded
I am the man! And thus may still
True lovers be rewarded."
"The wars are owre, an' I've come hame
And find the still true-hearted;
Tho' poor in gear, we're rich in love
And mair we'se ne'er be parted."
Quoth she, "My grand-sire left me gowd
A mailin plenished fairly
Then come, my faithful sodger lad
Thou'rt welcome to it dearly."
filename[ DEIDL2
play.exe DEIDLYWR
What Will I do gin my Hoggie Die?
(Robert Burns)
What will I do gin my Hoggie die ?
My joy, my pride, my Hoggie!
My only beast, I had nae mae,
And vow but I was vogie!
The lee-lang night we watched the fauld,
Me and my faithfu doggie;
We heard nocht but the roaring linn,
Amang the braes sae scroggie.
But the houlet cry'd frae the castle wa',
The blitter frae the boggie,
The tod reply'd upon the hill:
I trembled for my hoggie.
When day did daw, and cocks did craw,
The morning it was foggie,
An unco tyke lap o'er the dyke,
And maist has kill'd my hoggie!
tune: What will I do gin my Hoggie die (198)
filename[ HOGGIEDI
play.exe HOGGIEDI
Westlin Winds
~~~~~~~~~~~~
By Robbie Burns
Now westlin winds and slaughtering guns
Bring autumn's pleasant weather
The moorcock springs on whirring wings
Among the blooming heather
Now waving grain, wild o'er the plain
Delights the weary farmer
And the moon shines bright as I rove at night
To muse upon my charmer.
The partridge loves the fruitful fells
The plover loves the mountains
The woodcock haunts the lonely dells
The soaring hern the fountains
Through lofty groves the cushat roves
The path of man to shun it
The hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush
The spreading thorn the linnet
Thus every kind their pleasure find
The savage and the tender
Some social join and leagues combine
Some solitary wander
Avaunt away! the cruel sway
Tyrannic man's dominion
The sportsman's joy, the murdering cry
The fluttering gory pinion
But Peggy dear, the evening's clear
Thick files the skimming swallow
The sky is blue, the field's in view
All fading green and yellow
Com let us stray our gladsome way
And view the charms of nature
The rustling corn, the fruited thorn
And every happy creature
We'll gently walk and sweetly talk
Till the silent moon shines clearly
I'll grasp thy waiste and, fondly pressed
Swear how I love thee dearly
Not vernal showers to budding flowers
Not autumn to the farmer
So dear can be as thou to me
Raving Winds
(Robert Burns)
Raving winds around her blowing,
Yellow leaves the woodlands strowing,
By a river hoarsely roaring,
Isabella stray'd deploring-
'Farewell hours that late did measure
Sunshine days of joy and pleasure!
Hail, thou gloomy night of sorrow-
Cheerless night that knows no morrow!
O'er the Past too fondly wandering,
On the hopeless Future pondering,-
Chilly Grief my life-blood freezes,
Fell Despair my fancy seizes.
Life, thou soul of every blessing,
Load to Misery most distressing,
Gladly how would I resign thee,
And to dark Oblivion join thee!'
tune: McGrigor of Roro's Lament (207)
filename[ RAVEWIND
play.exe RAVEWIND
We Are Anchored By the Roadside, Jim
We are anchored by the roadside, Jim, as we've ofttimes before
When you and I were weary from sacking on the shore
The moon shone down in splendor, Jim, it shone on you and I
And the little stars were shining when we drank the old jug dry
But those was the good old days, those good old days of yore
When Murphy ran the tavern and Burnsy kept the store
When the whiskey flowed as free, brave boys, as the waters in the
brook
And the boys all for their stomach's sake their morning bitters
took
Now the times they have altered, Jim, and men have altered too
And some have undertaken for to put rumsellers through
They say that whiskey's poison, Jim, and scores of graves has dug
And ten thousand snakes and devils can be seen in our old jug
But never mind such prattle, Jim, Though some of it be true
We'll sleep where we've a mind to, together, me and you
For the drink they call cold water, won't do for you nor I
So we'll haul the cork at leisure, and we'll drink the old jug dry
Recorded by Joe Hickerson on Dull care II and by Sidney Robertson
Cowell on Folkways
Printed in 1860 in Beadles Dime Songbook No. 3
filename[ ROADJIM
Up in the Morning Early
(Robert Burns)
Cauld blaws the wind frae east to west,
The drift is driving sairly,
Sae loud and shill's I hear the blast-
I'm sure it's winter fairly!
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:
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.
tune: Up in the Morning Early (200)
filename[ MORNERLY
play.exe MORNERLY
Up and Warn a' Willie
(Robert Burns)
When we gaed to the braes o' Mar,
And to the wapon-shaw, Willie,
Wi' true design to serve the king
And banish whigs awa, Willie.
Up and warn a' Willie,
Warn, warn a';
To hear my cantie Highland sang,
Relate the thing I saw, Willie.
For Lords and lairds came there bedeen
And wow but they were braw, Willie.
But when the standard was set up
Right fierce the wind did blaw, Willie;
The royal nit upon the tap
Down to the ground did fa', Willie.
Up and warn a', Willie,
Warn, warn a';
Then second-sighted Sandie said
We'd do nae gude at a', Willie.
But when the army join'd at Perth,
The bravest ere ye saw, Willie,
We didna doubt the rogues to rout,
Restore our king and a', Willie.
Up and warn a'Willie,
Warn, warn a';
The pipers play'd frae right to left
O whirry whigs awa, Willie.
But when we march'd to Sherramuir
And there the rebels saw, Willie;
Brave Argyle attack'd our right,
Our flank and front and a,, Willie.
Up and warn a', Willie,
Warn, warn a',
Traitor Huntly sooin gave way
Seaforth, St. Clair and a'Willie.
But brave Glengary on our right,
The rebel's left did claw, Willie,
He there the greatest slaughter made
That ever Donald saw, Willie.
Up and warn a', Willie,
Warn, warn a',
And Whittam shat his breeks for fear
And fast did rin awa', Willie.
For he ca'd us a Highland mob
And soon he'd slay us a', Willie;
But we chas'd him back to Stirling brig
Dragoons and foot and a', Willie.
Up and warn a'Willie,
Warn, warn a',
At length we rallied on a hill
An briskly up did draw, Willie.
tune: Up and Warn a' Willie (212)
filename[ WARNWILI
play.exe WARNWILI
Up an Waun Them a' Jamie
(Robert Burns)
The Laddies by the banks o Nith
Wad trust his Grace wi a' Jamie;
But he'll sair them, as he sair'd the King-
Turn tail and rin awa, Jamie.
ch. Up and waun them a'Jamie,
Up and waun them a'!
The Johnstones hae the guidin o't:
Ye turncoat Whigs, awa!
The day he stude his eountry's friend,
Or gied her faes a claw, Jamie,
Or frae puir man a blessin wan-
That day the Duke ne'er saw, Jamie.
But wha is he, his country's boast?
Like him there is na twa, Jamie!
There's no a callant tents the kye,
But kens o Westerha', Jamie.
To end the wark, here's Whistlebirk-
Lang may his whistle blae, Jamie!
And Maxwell true, o sterling blue;
And we'll be Johnstones a', Jamie.
second version -
As I cam doon the banks o' Nith
And by Glenriddell's ha', man,
There I heard a piper play
Turn-coat Whigs awa; man.
Drumlanrig's towers hae tint the powers
That kept the lands in awe, man:
The eagle's dead, and in his stead
We've gotten a hoodie-craw, man.
The turn-coat Duke his King forsook,,
When his back was at the wa', man:
The rattan ran wi'a'his clan
For fear the house should fa', man.
The lads about the banks o' Nith,
They trust his Grace for a', man:
But he'll sair them as he sair't his King,
Turn tail and rin awa, man.
tune:Up and waur them a', Willie (212)
filename[ UPWAUN
play.exe UPWAUN
TO THE WEAVER"S GIN YE GO
(Robert Burns)
My heart was ance as blythe and free
As simmer days were lang;
But a bonie, westlin weaver lad
Has gart me change my sang.
CHORUS
To the weaver's gin ye go, fair maids,
To the weaver's gin ye go,
I rede you right, gang ne'er at night,
To the weaver's gin ye go.
My mither sent me to the town,
To warp a plaiden wab;
But the weary, weary warpin o't
Has gart me sigh and sab.
A bonie, westlin weaver lad
Sat working at his loom;
He took my heart, as wi' a net,
In every knot and thrum.
I sat beside my warpin-wheel,
And ay I ca'd it roun'.
But every shot and every knock,
My heart it gae a stoun.
The moon was sinking in the west,
Wi' visage pale and wan,
As my bonie, westlin weaver lad
Convoy'd me thro' the glen.
But what was said, or what was done,
Shame fa' me gin I tell;
But Oh! I fear the kintra soon
Will ken as weel's mysel!
tune: To the Weaver's gin ye go (194)
filename[GINYOUGO
play.exe GINYOUGO
My Peggy's Face
(Robert Burns)
My Peggy's face, my Peggy's form
The frost of hermit age might warm.
My Peggy's worth, my Peggy's mind
Might charm the first of human kind.
I love my Peggy's angel air,
Her face so truly heavenly fair,
Her native grace so void of art:
But I adore my Peggy's heart.
The lily's hue, the rose's dye,
The kindling lustre of an eye-
Who but owns their magic sway ?
Who but knows they all decay ?
The tender thrill, the pitying tear,
The generous purpose, nobly dear,
The gentle look that rage disarms-
These are all immortal charms.
tune: My Peggy's face (181)
filename[ PEGYFACE
play.exe PEGYFACE
Thou Lingering Star
(Robert Burns)
Thou ling'ring star, with less'ning ray,
That lov'st to greet the early morn,
Again thou usher'st in the day
My Mary from my soul was torn.
O Mary dear departed shade!
Where is thy place of blissful rest ?
See'st thou thy over lowly laid?
Hear'st thou the groans that rend this breast?
That sacred hour can I forget?
Can I forget the hallow'd grove,
Where, by the winding Ayr, we met, '
To live one day of parting love ?
Eternity cannot efface
Those records dear of transports past,
Thy image at our last embrace-
Ah! little thought we'twas our last!
Ayr, gurgling, kiss'd his pebbled shore,
O'erhung with wild-woods, thickening green;
The fragrant birch and hawthorn hoar,
'Twin'd amorous round the raptur'd scene;
The flowers sprang wanton to be prest,
The birds sang love on every spray,
Till too, too soon, the glowing west,
Proclaim'd the speed of winged day.
Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes,
And fondly broods with miser-care;
Time but th'impression stronger makes,
As streams their channels deeper wear.
O Mary! dear departed shade!
Where is thy place of blissful rest?
See'st thou thy lover lowly laid?
Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?
tune: Capt'n Cook's Death (274)
filename[ LNGRSTAR
play.exe LNGRSTAR
There Was a Lad
(Robert Burns)
There was a lad was born in Kyle,
But whatna day o'whatna style,
I doubt it's hardly worth the while
To be sae nice wi'Robin.
Robin was a rovin' Boy,
Rantin'rovin', rantin' rovin';
Robin was a rovin'Boy,
Rantin'rovin'Robin.
Our monarch's hindmost year but ane
Was five-and-twenty days begun,
'Twas then a blast o'Janwar'Win'
Blew hansel in on Robin.
The Gossip keekit in his loof,
Quo'scho wha lives will see the proof,
This waly boy will be nae coof,
I think we'll ca'him Robin.
He'll hae misfortunes great and sma',
But ay a heart aboon them a';
He'll be a credit till us a',
We'll a'be proud o'Robin.
But sure as three times three mak nine,
I see by ilka score and line,
This chap will dearly like our kin',
So leeze me on thee, Robin.
"Guid faith," quo'scho, "I doubt you Stir,
Ye gar the lasses lie aspar;
But twenty fauts ye may hae waur-
So blessins on thee, Robin."
Tune[Dainty Davie (140)
filename[ WASALAD
play.exe DNTDAVE
Theniel Menzie's Bonie Mary
(Robert Burns)
In comin by the brig o Dye,
At Darlet we a blink did tarry;
As day was dawin in the sky,
We drank a health to bonie Mary.
CHORUS
Theniel Menzies' bonie Mary,
Theniel Menzies'bonie Mary,
Charlie Grigor tint his plaidie,
Kissin Theniel's bonie.Mary.
Her een sae bright, her brow sae white,
Her haffet locks as brown's a berry,
And ay they dimpl't wi' a smile,
The rosy cheeks o' bonie Mary.
We lap an danc'd the lee-lang day,
Till piper-lads were wae and weary;
But Charlie gat the spring to pay,
For kissin Theniel's bonie Mary.
tune: Ruffian's rant (177)
filename[THNLMNZS
play.exe THNLMNZS
The Silver Tassie
{Robert Burns)
Go fetch to me a pint o wine,
And fill it in a silver tassie;
That I may drink, before I go,
A service to my bonie lassie:
The boat rocks at the Pier o' Leith,
Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the Ferry,
The ship rides by the Berwick-law,
And I maun leave my bony Mary.
The trumpets sound, the banners fly,
The glittering spears are ranked ready,
The shouts o' war are heard afar,
The battle closes deep and bloody.
It's not the roar o' sea or shore,
Wad make me langer wish to tarry;
Nor shouts o' war that's heard afar-
It's leaving thee, my bony Mary!
tune: The Secret Kiss (242)
filename[ SLVRTASE
play.exe SLVRTASE
The Ranting Dog
(Robert Burns)
O wha my babie clouts will buy?
Wha will tent me when I cry?
Wha will kiss me where I lie?
The rantin' dog, the daddie o't.
Wha will own he did the faut?
Wha will buy the groanin' maut?
Wha will tell me how to ca't?
The rantin' dog, the daddie o't.
When I mount the creepie-chair
Wha will sit beside me there?
Gie me Rob, I'll seek nae mair
The rantin' dog, the daddie o't.
Wha will crack to me my lane?
Wha will make me fidgin fain?
Wha will kiss me o'er again?
The rantin' dog, the daddie o't.
Note: tent = care for; faut = fault; groanin maut = ale for
midwife and friends; creepie-chair = stool of repentence;
crack = talk; my lane = alone; fidgin fain = horny or randy
From Sedley, Seeds of Love
Recorded by Redpath
filename[ RANTNDOG
play.exe RANTNDOG
THE PLOUGHMAN
(Robert Burns)
The Ploughman he's a bony lad,
His mind is ever true, jo,
His garters knit below his knee,
His bonnet it is blue, jo.
ch. Then up wi't a', my Ploughman lad,
And hey, my merry Ploughman;
Of a'the trades that I do ken,
Commend me to the Ploughman.
My Ploughman he comes hame at e'en,
He's aften wat and weary:
Cast off the wat, put on the dry,
And gae to bed, my Dearie.
I will wash my Ploughman's hose,
And I will dress his o'erlay;
I will mak my Ploughman'g bed,
And cheer him late and early.
I hae been east, I hae been west,
I hae been at Saint Johnston,
The boniest sight that e'er I saw
Was th' Ploughman laddie dancin.
Snaw-white stocking on his legs,
And siller buckles glancin;
A gude blue bannet on his head,
And O but he was handsome!
Commend me to the Barn yard,
And the Corn-mou, man;
I never gat my Coggie fou
Till I met wi' the Ploughman.
tune: The Ploughman (205)
filename[ PLOUGHMN
play.exe PLOUGHMN
Peggy Alison
(Robert Burns)
ch. And I'll kiss thee yet, yet,
And I'll kiss thee o'er again,
And I'll kiss thee yet, yet,
My bonie Peggy Alison.
Ilk care and fear, when thou art near
I ever mair defy them, O!
Young kings upon their hansel throne
Are no sae blest as I am, O!
(& again)
When in my arms, wi' a' thy charms,
I clasp my countless treasure, O!
I seek nae mair o' Heav'n to share
Than sic a moment's pleasure, O!
(& again)
And by thy een sae bonie blue
I swear I'm thine for ever, O!
And on thy lips I seal my vow,
And break it shall I never, O!
(& again)
note: chorus is first or lowest part of the tune -
each verse must be repeated twice to go through
the high or second part
tune:Braes o' Balquihidder (215)
filename[ PEGYALSN
play.exe PEGYALSN
The Lass O' Ballochmyle
(Robert Burns)
'Twas even: the dewy fields were green,
On every blade the pearls hang,
The zeghyr wanton'd round the bean,
An bore its fragrant sweets alang,
In ev'ry glen the mavis sang,
AII Nature list'ning seem'd the while,
Except where greenwood echoes rang,
Amang the braes o Ballochmyle.
With careless step I onward stray'd,
My heart rejoic'd in Nature's joy,
When, musing in a lonely glade,
A maiden fair I chanc'd to spy.
Her look was like the morning's eye,
Her air like Nature's vernal smile.
Perfection whisper'd, passing by:-
'Behold the lass o Ballochmyle!'
Fair is the morn in flowery May
And sweet is night in autumn mild,
When roving thro the garden gay,
Or wand'ring in the lonely wild;
But woman, Nature's darling child -
There all her charms she does compile -
Even there her other works are foil'd
By the bonie lass o Ballochmyle.
0, had she been a country maid,
And I the happy country swain,
Tho shelter'd in the lowest shed
That ever rose on Scotia's plain!
Thro weary winter's wind and rain
With joy, with rapture, I would toil,
And nightly to my bosom strain
The bonie lass o Ballochmyle!
Then Pride might climb the slipp'ry 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 ev'ry day have joys divine
With the bonie lass o Ballochmyle.
Tune: Ettrick Banks (89)
filename[ BALCHMYL
play.exe BALCHMYL
The Humors of the Glen
(Robert Burns)
Their groves o' sweet myrtle let Foreign Lands reckon,
Where bright-beaming summers exalt the perfume,
Far dearer to me yon lone glen o'green breckan
Wi' th'burn stealing under the lang, yellow broom:
Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowers,
Where the blue-bell and gowan lurk, lowly, unseen;
For there, lightly tripping amang the wild flowers,
A listening the linnet, oft wanders my Jean.
Tho' rich is the breeze in their gay, sunny vallies,
And cauld, Caledonia's blast on the wave;
Their sweet-scented woodlands that skirt the proud palace,
What are they ? The haunt o'the tyrant and slave.
The slave's spicy forests, and gold-bubbling fountains,
The brave Caledonian views wi'disdain;
He wanders as free as the winds of his mountains,
Save love's willing fetters, the chains o'his Jean.
Tune:Humors of the Glen (496)
filename[ HUMOFGLN
play.exe HUMOFGLN
The Dusty Miller
(Robert Burns)
Hey, the dusty miller,
And his dusty coat!
He will win a shilling,
Or he win a groat.
Dusty was the coat,
Dusty was the colour,
Dusty was the kiss
That I gat frae the miller!
Hey the dusty miller,
And his dusty sack!
Leeze me on the calling
Fills the dusty peck!
Fills the dusty peck,
Brings the dusty siller!
I wad gae my coatie
For the dusty miller!
tune:Dusty Miller (201)
filename[ DSTYMILR
play.exe DSTYMILR
THE DEIDLY WARS ARE PAST AND GANE
For the deidly wars are passed and gane
and gentle peace returning
Left mony's the sweet babe faitherless
and mony's the widow mourning
I left the lines and the tented field
whaur I'm no longer a lodger
A humble knapsack, it's a' my wealth
I'm a poor but honest sodger
A lea-licht hert was in my brest
my hands unstained wi' plunder
It's all for Scotia hame again
I cheery on did wonder
I thocht upon the banks of Coille
I thocht upon my Nancy
I thocht upon her bewitching smile
that stole my youthful fancy
Norman Kennedy gor this from Jeannie Robertson
who thought it was Robert Burns
filename[ DEIDLYWR
play.exe DEIDLYWR
The Chevalier's Lament
(Robert Burns)
The small birds rejoice in the green leaves returning,
The murmuring streamlet winds clear thro' the vale,
The primroses blow in the dews of the morning,
And wild scatter'd cowslips bedeck the green dale:
But what can give pleasure, or what can seem fair,
When the lingering moments are number'd by care ?
No flow'rs gaily springing, nor birds sweetly singing,
Can soothe the sad bosom of joyless despair!
The deed that I dar'd, could it merit their malice,
A king and a father to place on his throne ?
His right are these hills, and his right are those valleys,
Where the wild beasts find shelter, tho I can find none!
But 'tis not my suff'rings this wretched, forlorn-
My brave gallant friends,'Tis your ruin I mourn!
Your faith prov'd so loyal in hot bloody trial,
Alas! can I make it no better return?
tune: Captain Okean (220)
filename[ CHVLAMNT
play.exe CHVLAMNT
The Captain's Lady
(Robert Burns)
O, mount and go,
Mount and make ye ready!
O, mount and go,
And be the Captain's Lady!
When the drums do beat,
And the cannons rattle,
Thou shalt sit in state,
And see thy love in battle.
When the vanquish'd foe
Sues for peace and quiet,
To the shades we'll go,
And in love enjoy it:
tune: Mount your baggage (296)
filename[ CAPTLADY
play.exe CAPTLADY
The Campbells are Comin'
(Robert Burns)
chorus:
The Campbells are comin, Oho! Oho!
The Campbells are comin, Oho! Oho!
The Campbells are comin to bonie Lochleven,
The Campbells are comin Oho! Oho!
Upon the Lomonds I lay, I lay,
Upon the Lomonds I lay, I lay,
I looked down to bonie Lochleven,
And saw three bonie perches play
Great Argyle he goes before,
He maks his cannons and guns to roar,
Wi' sound o trumpet, pipe and drum
The Campbells are comin Oho, Oho!
The Campbells they are a'in arms
Their loyal faith and truth to show,
Wi banners rattling in the wind
The Campbells are comin Oho, Oho!
tune: The Campbells are comin (314)
filename[ CAMPBLL
play.exe CAMPBLL
The Bonie Lass of Albanie
(Robert Burns)
My heart is wae, and unco wae,
To think upon the raging sea,
That roars between her gardens green
An the bonie lass of Albanie.
This lovely maid's of royal blood,
That ruled Albion's kingdoms three;
But Oh, alas for her bonie face!
They hae wrang'd the lass of Albanie.
In the rolling tide of spreading Clyde
There sits an isle o' high degree,
And a town of fame, whose princely name
Should grace the lass of Albanie.
But there is a youth, a witless youth,
That fills the place where she should be;
We'll send him o'er to his native shore,
And bring our ain sweet Albanie!
Alas the day, and woe the day!
A false usurper wan the gree,
Who now commands the towers and lands,
The royal right of Albanie.
We'll daily pray, we'll nightly pray,
On bended knees mast fervently,
The time may come, with pipe and drum
We'll welcome hame fair Albanie.
tune: Mary weep no more for me (188)
filename[ LASOALBN
play.exe LASOALBN
THE BIRKS OF ABERFELDIE
(Robert Burns)
Now simmer blinks on flow'ry braes,
And o'er the crystal streamlet plays,
Come, let us spend the lightsome days
In the birks of Aberfeldie!.
Chorus:
Bonnie lassie, will ye go,
will ye go, will ye go,
Bonnie lassie, will ye go
To the birks of Aberfeldie?
The little birdies blithely sing,
While o'er their heads the hazels hing;
Or lightly flit on wanton wing
In the birks of Aberfeldie!
Chorus
The braes ascend like lofty wa's,
The foaming stream, deep-roaring, fa's,
O'er-hung wi'fragrant spreading shaws,
The birks of Aberfeldie.
Chorus
The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi'flowers,
White o'er the linns the burnie pours,
And, rising, weets wi' misty showers
The birks of Aberfeldie.
Chorus
Let Fortune's gifts at random flee,
They ne'er shall draw a wish frae me,
Supremely blest wi' love and thee
In the birks of Aberfeldie.
Note: Tune is Birks of Abergeldie (170)
filename[ABERFELD
play.exe ABERFELD
The Battle of Sherra-moor
(Robert Burns)
'O, cam ye here the fight to shun,
Or herd the sheep wi' me, man?
Or were ye at the Sherra-moor,
Or did the battle see, man?'
'I saw the battle, sair and teugh,
And reekin-red ran monie a sheugh;
My heart, for fear, gae sough for sough,
To hear the thuds, and see the cluds
O clans frae woods, in tartan duds,
Wha glaum'd at kingdoms three, man.
La, la, la, la, etc.
'The red-coat lads wi black cockauds,
To meet them were na slaw, man;
They rush'd and push'd, and bluid outgush'd,
And monie a bouk did fa', man!
The great Argyle led on his files,
I wat they glanc'd for twenty miles;
They hough'd the clans like nine-pin kyles,
They hack'd and hash'd, while braid-swords clashed,
And thro they dash'd, and hew'd and smash'd,
Till fey men died awa, man.
La, la, la, la, etc.
'But had ye seen the philibegs,
And skyrin tartan trews, man;
When in the teeth they daur'd our Whigs,
And Covenant trueblues, man!
In lines extended lang and large,
When baig'nets o'erpower'd the targe,
And thousands hasten'd to the charge,
Wi' Highland wrath and frae the sheath
Drew blades o' death, till, out o' breath.
They fled like frightened dows, man!'
La, la, la, la, etc.
'O how Deil, Tam, can that be true ?
The chase gaed frae the north, man!
I saw mysel, they did pursue
The horseman back to Forth, man:
And at Dunblane, in my ain sight,
They took the brig wi' a' their might,
And straught to Stirling wing'd their flight;
But, cursed lot! the gates were shut,
And monie a huntit poor red-coat,
For fear amaist did swarf, man!'
La, la, la, la, etc.
My sister Kate came up the gate
Wi' crowdie unto me, man:
She swoor she saw some rebels run
To Perth and to Dundee, man!
Their left-hand general had nae skill;
The Angus lads had nae good will
That day their neebors' bluid to spill;
For fear, by foes, that they should lose
Their cogs o brose; they scar'd at blows,
And hameward fast did flee, man.
La, la, la, la, etc.
'They've lost some gallant gentlemen,
Amang the Highland clans, man!
I fear my Lord Panmuir is slain,
Or in his en'mies'hands, man.
Now wad ye sing this double flight,
Some fell for wrang, and some for right,
But monie bade the world guid-night;
Say, pell and mell, wi muskets' knell
How Tories fell, and Whigs to Hell
Flew off in frightened bands, man!
La, la, la, la, etc.
tune: Cameronian Rant (308)
filename[ SHRRAMUR
play.exe SHRRAMUR
The Banks O' Doon
(Robert Burns)
Ye flowery banks o'bonie Doon,
How can ye blume sae fair;
How can ye chant, ye 1ittle birds,
And I sae fu'o'care!
Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird
That sings upon the bough;
Thou minds me o'the happy days
When my fause luve was true.
Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird
That sings beside thy mate;
For sae I sat, and sae I sang,
And wist na o'my fate.
Aft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon,
To see the wood-bine twine,
And ilka bird sang o'its love,
And sae did I o'mine.
Wi'1ightsome heart I pu'd a rose
Frae aff its thorny tree,
And my fause luver staw the rose,
But left the thorn wi'me.
Wi'1ightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
Upon a mom in June:
And sae I flourish'd on the morn,
And sae was pu'd or noon!
Note: Tune is Cambdelmore (328A)
filename[BANKBRA2
play.exe BANKBRA2
Stay, My Charmer, Can You Leave Me ?
(Robert Burns)
Stay, my charmer, can you leave me ?
Cruel, cruel to deceive me!
Well you know how much you grieve me!
Cruel charmer, can you go?
Cruel charmer, can you go?
By my love so ill-requited,
By the faith you fondly plighted,
By the pangs of lovers slighted,
Do not, do not leave me so!
Do not, do not leave me so!
tune: An Gille dubh ciar dhubh (197)
filename[ STAYCHRM
play.exe STAYCHRM
Robin Shure in Hairst
(Robert Burns)
I gaed up to Dunse,
To warp a wab o' plaiden,
At his daddie's yet,
Wha met me but Robin!
ch. Robin shure in hairst,
I shure wi' him:
Fient a heuk had I,
Yet I stack by him.
Was na Robin bauId,
Tho' I was a cotter ?
Play'd me sic a trick,
An me the Eller's dochter!
Robin promis'd me
A' my winter vittle:
Fient haet he had but three
Guse-feathers and a whittle!
tune: Robin shure in hairst (251)
filename[ ROBNHRST
play.exe ROBNHRST
Parcel o' Rogues
================
Fareweel to a' oor Scottish fame
Fareweel oor ancient glory
Fareweel even tae oor Scottish name
Sae famed in martial story
Noo Sark runs o'er the Solway sands
Tweed runs tae the ocean
Tae mark wher
e England's province stands
Such a parcel o' rogues in a nation
What force or guile could not subdue
Through many wor-like ages
Is rocked now by the coward few
For hireling traitor's wages
The English steel we could disdain
Secure in valou
r's station
But English gold has been oor bane
Such a parcel o' rogues in a nation
O would or I had seen the day
That treason thus would sell us
My old grey heid had lain in clay
Wi' Bruce and loyal Wallace
But pith and power till my last
hour
I'll mak' this declaration
We are bought and sold for English gold
Such a parcel o' rogues in a nation
[ Written by Robert Burns as a protest against the Act of Union, 1707, which
joined the parliaments of England and Scotland. Although initially against
the Act, the Scottish parliament soon agreed when offered a large pension
each by the English government. The people had no say, and thus were
On a Bank of Flowers
(Robert Burns)
On a bank of flowers in a summer day
For summer lightly drest,
The youthful, blooming Nelly lay,
With love and sleep opprest;
When Willie, wand'ring thro the wood,
Who for her favour oft had su'd-
He gaz'd, he wish'd,He fear'd, he blush'd,
And trembled where he stood.
Her closed eyes, like weapons sheath'd,
Were seal'd in soft repose;
Her lips, still as she fragrant breath'd,
It richer dyed the rose.
The springing lilies, sweetly prest,
Wild-wanton kiss'd her rival breast:
He gaz'd, he wish'd,He fear'd, he blush'd,
His bosom ill at rest.
Her robes, light-waving in the breeze,
Her tender limbs embrace;
Her lovely form, her native ease,
All harmony and grace.
Tumultuous tides his pulses roll,
A faltering, ardent kiss he stole;
He gaz'd, he wish'd, He ear'd, he blush'd,
And sigh'd his very soul.
As flies the partridge from the brake
On fear-inspired wings,
So Nelly starting, half-awake,
Awar affrighted springs.
But Willie, follow'd - as he should,
He overtook her in the wood;
He vow'd, he pray'd, He found the maid
Forgiving all, and good.
tune: On a bank of flowers (292)
filename[ BNKFLWRS
play.exe BNKFLWRS
O, Mally's Meek
(Robert Burns)
As I was walking up the street,
A barefit maid I chanc'd to meet;
But O, the road was very hard
For that fair maiden's tender feet!
CHORUS
Mally's meek, Mally's sweet,
Mally's modest and discreet,
Mally's rare, Mally's fair
Mally's ev'ry way complete.
It were mair meet, that those fine feet
Were weel laced up in silken shoon!
An 'twere more fit that she should sit
Within yon chariot gilt aboon!
Her yellow hair, beyond compare,
Comes tumbling down her swan-like neck,
And her twa eyes, like stars in skies,
Would keep a sinking ship frae wreck!
tune: O Mally's meek, Mally's sweet (226)
filename[MALYMEEK
play.exe MALYMEEK
O Dear Minny, What Shall I Do?
(Robert Burns)
cho: O dear minny, what shall I do ?
O dear minny, what shall I do ?
O dear minny, what shall I do ?
Daft thing, doylt thing, do as I do.
If I be black, I canna be lo'ed;
If I be fair, I canna be gude;
If I be lordly, the lads will look by me
O dear minny what shall I do
O dear & ch
tune:O dear minny, what shall I do? (298)
filename[ DRMINNY
play.exe DRMINNY
No Churchman am I
(Robert Burns)
No Churchman am I for to rail and to write,
No Statesman nor Soldier to plot or to fight,
No sly Man of business contriving a 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, tho' 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;
But see you the Crown how it waves in the air,
There a big-belly'd bottle still eases my care.
The wife of my bosom, alas! she did die;
For sweet consolation to church I did fly;
I found that old Solomon proved it fair,
That a big-belly'd bottle's a cure for all care.
I once was persuaded a venture to make;
A letter inform'd me that all was to wreck;
But the pursy old landlord just waddl'd up stairs
With a glorious bottle that ended my cares.
Life's cares they are comforts, a maxim laid down
By the Bard, what d'ye call him, that wore the black gown;
And faith I agree with the old prig to a hair;
For a big-belly'd bottle's a heaven o care.
A Stanza added in a Masonic Lodge:
Then fill up a bumper and make it o'erflow,
And honours masonic prepare for to throw;
May every true brother of th' compass and square
Have a big belly'd bottle when harassd with care.
In III, the crown refers to a tavern sign in Mauchline, sporting the motto
of Sir J Whiteford's arms, "D'en Haut".
In VI, opening quote from Young's Night Thoughts.
Tune: Prepare, my dear brethern, to the tavern let's fly (27)
filename[ BIGBOTLE
MY WIFE'S A WANTON WEE THING
(Robert Burns)
My wife's a wanton, wee thing,
My wife's a wanton, wee thing,
My wife's a wanton, wee thing,
She winna be guided by me.
She play'd the loon or she was married,
She play'd the loon or she was married,
She glar'd the loon or she was married,
She'll do it again or she die.
She sell'd her coat and she drank it,
She sell'd her coat and she drank it,
She row'd hersell in a blanket,
She winna be guided for me.
She mind't na when I forbade her,
She mind't na when I forbade her,
I took a rung and I claw'd her,
And a braw gude bairn was she.
tune: My Wife's a Winsome Wee Thing (388)
filename[ WIFESWEE
play.exe WIFESWEE
O Mary, at thy window be!
It is the wish'd, the trysted hour.
Those smiles and glances let me see,
That make the miser's treasure poor.
How blithely wad I bide the stoure,
A weary slave frae sun to sun,
Could I the rich reward secure --
The lovely Mary Morison.
Yestreen, when to the trembling string
The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha',
To thee my fancy took its wing,
I sat, but neither heard nor saw:
Tho' this was fair, and that was braw,
And yon the toast of a' the town,
I sigh'd and sang amang them a': --
'Ye are not Mary Morison!'
O, Mary canst thou wreck his peace
Wha for thy sake wad gladly die?
Or canst thou break that heart of his
Whase only faut is loving thee?
If love for love thou wilt na gie,
At least be pity to me shown:
A thought ungentle canna be
The thought o' Mary Morison.
From MacQueen and Scott, The Oxford Book of Scottish Verse
recorded by the Tannahill Weavers
LORD RONALD
(Robert Burns)
O where hae ye been, Lord Ronald, my son?
O where,hae ye been, Lord Ronald, my son?
I hae been wi' my sweetheart, mother, make my bed soon;
For I'm weary wi' the hunting, and fain wad lie down.
What got ye frae your sweetheart, Lord Ronald, my son?
What got ye frae your sweetheart, Lord Ronald, my son?
I hae got deadly poison, mother, make my bed soon;
For life is a burden that soon I'll lay down.-
Child #12
Tune: Lord Ronald My Son (352)
filename[ LORDRNLD
play.exe LORDRNLD
LADY ONLIE
(Robert Burns)
A' the lads o Thornie-bank,
When they gae to the shore o' Bucky,
They'll step in an' tak a pint,
Wi Lady Onlie, honest lucky.
ch. Lady Onlie, honest lucky,
Brews guid ale at shore o' Bucky:
I wish her sale for her guid ale,
The best on a' the shore o Bucky!
Her house sae bien, her curch sae clean-
I wat she is a dainty chuckie,
And cheery blinks the ingle-gleede
O Lady Onlie, honest lucky.
tune: Ruffian's Rant (177)
filename[ LDYONLE
play.exe THNLMNZS
Laddie, Lie Near Me
(Robert Burns)
'Twas na her bonie blue e'e was my ruin;
Fair tho' she be, that was ne'er my undoing:
'Twas the dear smile when naebody did mind us,
'Twas the bewitching, sweet, stown glance o'kindness.
Sair do I fear that to hope is denied me,
Sair do I fear that despair maun abide me;
But tho'fell Fortune should fate us to sever,
Queen shall she be in my bosom for ever.
Chloris I'm thine wi'a passion sincerest,
And thou hast plighted me love o'the dearest!
And thou'rt the angel that never can alter,
Sooner the sun in his motion would falter.
Tune: Laddie lie near me (497)
filename[LADLINER
play.exe LADLINER
Kissing my Kate (Merry hae I been...)
(Robert Burns)
O, merry hae I been teethin a heckle
An merry hae I been shapin a spoon!
O, merry hae I been cloutin a kettle,
An kissin my Katie when a' was done!
O, a' the lang day I ca' at my hammer,
An a' the lang day I whistle and sing!
O, a' the lang night I cuddle my kimmer,
An a' the lang night as happy's a king!
Bitter in dool, I lickit my winnins
O marrying Bess, to gie her a slave:
Blest be the hour she cool'd in her linens
And blythe be the bird that sings on her grave
Come to my arms, my Katie, my Katie,
An come to my arms, and kiss me again!
Drunken or sober, here's to thee, Katie,
An blest be the day I did it again!
tune: Boddich na' mbrigs (305)
filename[ KISSKATE
play.exe KISSKATE
Jumpin' John
(Robert Burns)
Her daddie forbad, her minnie forbad;
Forbidden she wadna be:
She wadna trow't, the browst she brew'd
Wad taste sae bitterlie!
ch. The lang lad they ca' Jumpin John
Beguil'd the bonie Lassie!
The lang lad they ca' Jumpin John
Beguil'd the bonie Lassie!
A cow and a cauf, a yowe and a hauf,
And thretty guid shillins and three:
A vera guid tocher, a cotter-man's dochter,
The lass with the bonie black e'e.
tune: Jumpin John (199)
filename[ JUMPJOHN
play.exe JUMPJOHN
I Love My Love in Secret
(Robert Burns)
My Sandy gied to me a ring
Was a'beset wi diamonds fine;
But I gied him a far better thing,
I gied my heart in pledge o' his ring.
My Sandy O, my Sandy O,
My bonie, bonie Sandy O!
Tho' tbe love that I owe to thee I dare na show,
Yet I love my love in secret, my Sandy, O!
My Sandy brak a piece o gowd,
While down his cheeks the saut tears row'd,
He took a hauf, and gied it to me,
And I'll keep it till the hour I die.
tune:I love my love in secret (284)
filename[ SCRTLOVE
play.exe SCRTLOVE
Highland Mary
(Robert Burns)
Ye banks, and braes, and streams around
The castle o' Montgomery,
Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie!
There Simmer first unfald her robes,
And there the langest tarry:
For there I took the last Fareweel
O'my sweet Highland Mary.
How sweetly bloom'd the gay, green birk,
How rich the hawthorn's blossom;
As underneath their fragrant shade,
I clasp'd her to my bosom!
The golden Hours, on angel wings,
Flew o'er me and my Dearie;
For dear to me as light and life
Was my sweet Highland Mary.
Wi' mony a vow, and lock'd embrace,
Our parting was fu'tender;
And pledging aft to meet again,
We tore oursels asunder:
But Oh, fell Death's untimely frost,
That nipt my Flower sae early!
Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay,
That wraps my Highland Mary!
0 pale, pale now, those rosy lips
I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly!
And clos'd for ay, the sparkling glance,
That dwalt on me sae kindly!
And mouldering now in silent dust,
That heart that lo'ed me dearly!
But still within my bosom's core
Shall live my Highland Mary.
Tune: Katharine Ogie (389)
filename[HIGHMARY
play.exe HIGHMARY
Johnny Cope
(Robert Burns)
Sir John Cope trode the north right far,
Yet ne'er a rebel he cam naur,
Until he landed at Dunbar
Right early in a morning.
CHORUS
Hey Johnie Cope are ye wauking yet,
Or are ye sleeping I would wit:
O haste ye get up for the drums do beat,
Of fye Cope rise in the morning.
He wrote a challenge for Dunbar,
Come fight me Charlie an ye daur;
If it be not by the chance of war
I'll give you a merry morning.
When Charlie look'd the letter upon
He drew his sword and scabbard from-
"So Heaven restore to me my own,
I'll meet you, Cope, in the morning."
Cope swore with many a bloody word
That he would fight them gun and sword,
But he fled frae his nest like an ill scar'd bird,
And Johnie he took wing in the morning.
It was upon an afternoon,
Sir Johnie march'd to Preston town;
He says, "my lads come lean you down,
And we'll fight the boys in the morning."
But when he saw the Highland lads
Wi' tartan trews and white cokauds,
Wi' swords and guns and rungs and gauds,
O Johnie he took wing in the morning.
On the morrow when he did rise,
He look'd between him and the skies;
He saw them wi' their naked thighs,
Which fear'd him in the morning.
O then he flew into Dunbar,
Crying for a man of war;
He thought to have pass'd for a rustic tar,
And gotten awa in the morning.
Sir Johnie into Berwick rade,
Just as the devil had been his guide;
Gien him the warld he would na stay'd
To foughten the boys in the morning.
Says the Berwickers unto Sir John,
O what's become of all your men,
In faith, says he, I dinna ken,
I left them a' this morning.
Says Lord Mark Car, ye are na blate,
To bring us the news o' your ain defeat;
I think you deserve the back o' the gate,
Get out o' my sight this morning.
tune: Johnie Cope (297)
filename[ JOHNCOPE
play.exe JOHNCOPE
JOHN COME KISS ME NOW
(Robert Burns)
cho: O John, come kiss me now, now, now;
O John, my luve, come kiss me now;
O John, come kiss me by and by,
For weel ye ken the way to woo,
O some will court and compliment,
And ither some will kiss and daut;
But I will mak o' my gudeman,
My ain gudeman, it is nae faute.
& ch
O some will court and compliment,
And ither some will prie their mou,
And some will hause in ithers arms,
And that's the way I like to do.
& ch
Tune: John come kiss me now (343)
filename[ JOHNKISS
play.exe JOHNKISS
JOHN BARLEYCORN: A BALLAD
(Robert Burns)
There was three kings into the east,
Three kings both great and high,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn should die.
They took a plough and plough'd him down,
Put clods upon his head,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn was dead.
But the cheerful Spring came kindly on'
And show'rs began to fall;
John Barleycorn got up again,
And sore surpris'd them all.
The sultry suns of Summer came,
And he grew thick and strong:
His head weel arm'd wi pointed spears,
That no one should him wrong.
The sober Autumn enter'd mild,
When he grew wan and pale;
His bendin joints and drooping head
Show'd he began to fail.
His colour sicken'd more and more,
He faded into age;
And then his enemies began
To show their deadly rage.
They've taen a weapon, long and sharp,
And cut him by the knee;
They ty'd him fast upon a cart,
Like a rogue for forgerie.
They laid him down upon his back,
And cudgell'd him full sore.
They hung him up before the storm,
And turn'd him o'er and o'er.
They filled up a darksome pit
With water to the brim,
They heav'd in John Barleycorn-
There, let him sink or swim!
They laid him upon the floor,
To work him farther woe;
And still, as signs of life appear'd,
They toss'd him to and fro.
They wasted o'er a scorching flame
The marrow of his bones;
But a miller us'd him worst of all,
For he crush'd him between two atones.
And they hae taen his very hero blood
And drank it round and round;
And still the more and more they drank,
Their joy did more abound.
John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
Of noble enterprise;
For if you do but taste his blood,
'Twill make your courage rise.
'Twill make a man forget his woe;
'Twill heighten all his joy:
'Twill make the widow's heart to sing,
Tho the tear were in her eye.
Then let us toast John Barleycorn,
Each man a glass in hand;
And may his great posterity
Ne'er fail in old Scotland!
TUNE: Lull me beyond thee
filename[ BARLEY1
Jamie, Come Try Me
(Robert Burns)
chorus:
Jamie, come try me,
Jamie, come try me!
If thou would 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!
tune:Jamie come try me (295)
filename[COMTRYME
play.exe COMTRYME
I'll Mak You be Fain to Follow Me
(Robert Burns)
As late by a sodger I chanced to pass,
I heard him a courtin a bony young lass;
My hinny, my life, my dearest, quo he,
I'll mak you be fain to follow me.
Gin I should follow you, a poor sodger lad,
Ilk ane o my cummers wad think I was mad;
For battles I never shall lang to see,
I'll never be fain to follow thee.
To follow me, I think ye may be glad,
A part o my supper, a part o my bed,
A part o my bed, wherever it be,
I'll mak you be fain to follow me.
Come try my knapsack on your back,
Alang the king's high-gate we'll pack;
Between Saint Johnston and bony Dundee,
I'll mak you be fain to follow me.
tune: I'll mak you be fain to follow me (304)
filename[ FOLLOWME
play.exe FOLLOWME
I SING OF A WHISTLE
(Robert Burns)
I sing of a Whistle, a Whistle of worth,
I sing of' a Whistle, the pride of the North,
Was brought to the court of our good Scottish king,
And long with this Whistle all Scotland shall ring.
Old Loda*, still rueing the arm of Fingal,
The god of the bottle sends down from his hall-
'This Whistle's your challenge, to Scotland get o'er,
'And drink them to hell, Sir! or ne'er see me more!'
Old poets have sung, and old chronicles tell,
What champions ventured, what champions fell;
The son of great Loda was conqueror still,
And blew on the Whistle their requiem shrill.
Till Robert, the lord of the Cairn and the Scaur,
Unmatched at the bottle, unconquered in war,
He drank his poor god-ship as deep as the sea,
No tide of the Baltic e'er drunker than he.
Thus Robert, victorious, the trophy has gained,
Which now in his house has for ages remained;
Till three noble chieftains, and all of his blood,
The jovial contest again have renewed.
Three joyous good fellows with hearts clear of flaw;
Craigdarroch so famous for wit, worth, and law;
And trusty Glenriddel, so skilled in old coins;
And gallant Sir Robert, deep-read in old wines.
Craigdarroch began with a tongue smooth as oil,
Desiring Glenriddel to yield up the spoil;
Or else he would muster the heads of the clan,
And once more, in claret, try which was the man.
'By the gods of the ancients!'Glenriddel replies,
'Before I surrender so glorious a prize,
'I,ll conjure the ghost of the great Rorie More*,
'And bumoer his horn with him twenty times o'er.'
A bard was selected to witness the fray,
And tell future ages the feats of the day;
A bard who detested all sadness and spleen,
And wished that Pamassus a vineyard had been.
The dinner being over, the claret they ply,
And every new cork is a new spring of joy;
In the bands of old friendship and kindred so set,
And the bands grew the tighter the more they were wet.
Gay Pleasure ran riot as bumpers ran o'er;
Bright Phoebus ne'er witnessed so joyous a corps,
And vowed that to leave them he was quite forlorn,
Till Cynthia hinted he'd see them next morn.
Six bottles a-piece had well wore out the night,
When gallant Sir Robert, to finish the fight,
Turned o'er in one bumper a bottle of red,
And swore 'twas the way that their ancestor did.
Then worthy Glernriddel, so cautious and sage,
No longer the warfare, ungodly, would wage;
A high ruling elder to wallow in wine!
He left the foul business to folks less divine.
The gallant Sir Robert fought hard to the end;
But who can with Fate and Quart Bumpers contend?
Though Fate said, a hero should perish in light;
So uprose bright Phoebus - and down fell the kinght.
Next uprose our Bard, like a prophet in drink:-
'Craigdarroch, thou'lt soar when creation shall sink!
'But if thou would flourish immortal in rhyme,
'Come -one bottle more- and have at the sublime !
'Thy line, that have struggled for freedom with Bruce
'Shall heroes and patriots ever produce:
'So thine be the laurel, and mine be the bay
'The field thou hast won, by yon bright god of day!'
tune: The Whistle (272)
filename[ SNGWHSTL
play.exe SNGWHSTL
I Maun Hae a Wife
I maun hae a wife, whatsoe'er she be
An' she be a woman, that's enough for me.
cho: Buy broom besoms! Wha will buy them noo?
Fine heather ringers, better never grew.
If that she be bonnie, I shall think her right,
If that she be ugly, where's the odds at night?
O, an' she be young, how happy I shall be
If that she be auld, the sooner she will dee.
If that she be fruitfu', O what joy is there!
If she should be barren, less will be my care.
If she like a drappie, she and I'll agree,
If she dinna like it, there's the mair for me.
Be she green or greym be she black or fair
Let her be a woman, I shall seek nae mair.
Collected by Robert Burns
Note: A nice counterpoise to several old maid songs. See also
OLDMAID1 OLDMAID2
filename[ MAUNWIFE
play.exe MAUNWIFE
CAULD FROSTY MORNING
(Robert Burns)
'Twas past ane o'clock in a cauld frosty morning,
When cankert November blaws over the plain,
I heard the kirk-bell repeat the loud warning,
As, restless, I sought for sweet slumber in vain:
Then up I arose, the silver moon shining bright;
Mountains and valleys appearing all hoary white;
Forth I would go, amid the pale, s'ient night,
And visit the Fair One, the cause of my pain.-
Sae gently I staw to my lovely Maid's chamber,
And rapp'd at her window, low down on my knee;
Begging that she would awauk from sweet slum'ber,
Awauk from sweet slumber and pity me:
For, that a stranger to a' pleasure, peace and rest,
Love into madness ha fired my tortur'd breast;
And that I should be of a'men the maist unblest,
Unless she would pity my sad miserie!
My Truic-love arose and whispered to me,
(The moon looked in, an envy'd my Love's charms;)
'An innocent Maiden, ah, would you undo me!'
I made no reply, but leapt into her arms:
Bright Phebus peep'd over the hills and found me there;
As he has done, now, seven lang years and mair:
A faithfuller, constanter, kinder, more loving Pair,
His sweet-chearing beam nor enlightens nor warms.
tune: Cauld frosty morning (294)
filename[ FRSTMORN
play.exe FRSTMORN
Carl, an the King Come
(Robert Burns)
chorus:
Carl, an the King come,
Carl, an the King come;
Thou shalt dance and I wilt sing,
Carl, an the King come!
An somebodie were come again,
Then somebodie maun cross the main,
And every man shall hae his ain,
Carl, an the King come!
I trow we swapped for the warse:
We gae the boot and better horse,
An that we'll tell them at the Cross,
Carl, an the King come!
Coggie, an the King come,
Coggie, an the King come,
I'll be fou, an thou'se be toom,
Coggie, an the King come!
tune: Carl and the king come (299)
filename[ CARLKING
play.exe CARLKING
BONIE LESLEY
(Robert Burns)
O, Saw ye bonie Lesley,
As she gaed o'er the Border?
She's gane, like Alexander,
To spread her conquests farther!
To see her is to love her,
And love but her for ever;
For Nature made her what she is,
And never made anither!
Thou airt a queen, fair Lesley-
Thy subjects, we before thee!
Thou art divine, fair Lesley-
The hearts o' men adore thee.
The Deil he could na skaith thee,
Or aught that wad belang thee,
He'd look into thy bonie face,
And say:-'I canna wrang thee!'
The Powers aboon will tent thee,
Misfortune sha'na steer thee:
Thou'rt like themsels sae lovely,
That ill they'll ne'er let near thee
Return again, fair Lesley,
Return to Caledonie!
That we may brag we hae a lass
There's nane again sae bonie.
Tune: The Colliers Dochter (339)
filename[ BONLSLEY
play.exe BONLSLEY
Blythe Was She
(Robert Burns)
By Oughtertyre grows the aik,
On Yarrow banks the birken shaw;
But Phemie was a bonier lass
Than braes o Yarrow ever saw.
ch. Blythe, blythe and merry was she,
Blythe was she butt and ben,
Blythe by the banks of Ern,
And blythe in Glenturit glen!
Her looks were like a flow'r in May,
Her smile was like a simmer morn:
Shc tripped by the banks o Ern,
As light's a bird upon a thorn.
Her bonie face it was as meek
As onie lamb upon a lea.
The evening sun was ne'er sae sweet
As was the blink o Phemie's e'e.
The Highland hills I've wander'd wide,
As o,er the lawlands I hae been,
But phemie was the blythest lass
That ever trod the dewy green.
tune:Andrew an' his Cutty Gun (179)
filename[ BLYHWSHE
play.exe BLYHWSHE
AWA' WHIGS AWA'
(Robert Burns)
Our thrissles flourish'd fresh and fair,
And bonie bloom'd our roses;
But Whigs cam like a frost in June,
An wither'd a our posies.
CHORUS
Awa, Whigs, awa!
Awa, Whigs, awa!
Ye're but a pack o traitor louns,
Ye'll do nae guid at a'.
Our ancient crown's fa'n in the dust;
Deil blin' them wi the stoure o't,
An write their names in the black beuk
Wha gae the Whigs the power o't!
& ch
Our sad decay in church and state
Surpasses my descriving:
The Whig cam o'er us for a curse,
An we hae done wi thriving.
& ch
Grim Vengeance lang has taen a nap,
But we may see him waukin:
Gude help the day when Royal heads
Are hunted like a maukin!
& ch
tune: Awa whigs awa (303)
filename[ AWAWHIGS
play.exe AWAWHIGS
AULD LANG SYNE
(Robert Burns)
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days o' lang syne?
And for auld lang syne, my jo,
for auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
And surely ye'll be your pint stoup!
And surely I'll be mine!
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
& c.
(In the original letter to Mrs. Dunlop the line
"And never brought to mind" was
"And never thought upon" but the above is what
he sent to Thompson for publication.) ARB
Note: This is an accurate transcription of Burn's holographic
original. RG
Tune: Auld Lang Syne (240)
filename[ AULDLNG2
play.exe AULDLNG2
A Man's A Man For A' That
by Robert Burns
Is there for honesty poverty
That hings his head, an' a' that;
The coward slave--we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a' that!
For a' that, an' a' that,
Our toils obscure an' a' that,
The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The man's the gowd for a' that.
What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin grey, an' a' that?
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,
A man's a man for a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,
Their tinsel show, an' a' that,
The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor,
Is king o' men for a' that.
Ye see yon birkie ca'd a lord,
Wha struts, an' stares, an' a' that;
Tho' hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a coof for a' that.
For a' that, an' a' that,
His ribband, star, an' a' that,
The man o' independent mind
He looks an' laughs at a' that.
A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an' a' that,
But an honest man's aboon his might,
Gude faith, he maunna fa' that!
For a' that, an' a' that,
Their dignities an' a' that,
The pith o' sense, an' pride o' worth,
Are higher rank than a' that.
Then let us pray that come it may,
(As come it will for a' that,)
That Sense and Worth, o'er a' the earth,
Shall bear the gree, an' a' that,
For a' that, an' a' that,
It's coming yet for a' that,
That man to man, the world o'er,
Shall brithers be for a' that.
Notes for the Sasunnach and other strange folks:
aboon -- above
birkie -- a lively, young, forward fellow
coof -- fool, ninnie
fa' -- have as one's lot
gree -- prize
gowd -- gold
hame -- home
hing -- hang
hoddin -- coarse, woollen cloth
maunna -- must not
(Quoted from: The Complete Illustrated Poems, Songs & Ballads of Robert Burns,
London 1990).
Enjoy!
