POEMS AND SONGS SONG-HANDSOME NELL' Tune "I am a man unmarried." O ONCE I lov'd a bonie lass, And whilst that virtue warms my breast, I'll love my handsome Nell. As bonie lasses I hae seen, A bonie lass, I will confess, Is pleasant to the e'e; But, without some better qualities, She's no a lass for me. But Nelly's looks are blythe and sweet, And what is best of a', Her reputation is complete, She dresses aye sae clean and neat, And then there's something in her gait A gaudy dress and gentle air May slightly touch the heart; But it's innocence and modesty That polishes the dart. 1 The first of my performances.-R. B. "Tis this in Nelly pleases me, 'Tis this enchants my soul; For absolutely in my breast. She reigns without control. SONG O TIBBIE, I HAE SEEN THE DAY Chor.-O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, For laik o' gear ye lightly me, Yestreen I met you on the moor, O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. When coming hame on Sunday last, Because O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. I doubt na, lass, but ye may think, O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. But sorrow tak' him that's sae mean, O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. Altho' a lad were e'er sae smart, O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. But, if he hae the name o' gear, O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. But, Tibbie, lass, tak' my advice: O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. There lives a lass beside yon park, Than you wi' a' your thousand mark; That gars you look sae high. O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. SONG-I DREAM'D I LAY I DREAM'D I lay where flowers were springing By a falling crystal stream: Straight the sky grew black and daring; Thro' the woods the whirlwinds rave; Trees with aged arms were warring, Such was my life's deceitful morning, SONG-IN THE CHARACTER OF A RUINED FARMER Tune "Go from my window, Love, do." THE SUN he is sunk in the west, While here I sit, all sore beset, With sorrow, grief, and woe: And it's O, fickle Fortune, O! The prosperous man is asleep, Nor hears how the whirlwinds sweep; The surly tempest blow: And it's O, fickle Fortune, O! There lies the dear partner of my breast; Her cares for a moment at rest: And it's O, fickle Fortune, O! There lie my sweet babies in her arms; With many a bitter throe: And it's O, fickle Fortune, O! I once was by Fortune carest: I once could relieve the distrest: And it's O, fickle Fortune, O! No comfort, no comfort I have! How welcome to me were the grave! But then my wife and children dear- |