The lav'rock shuns the palace gay,
And o'er the cottage sings:
For Nature smiles as sweet, I ween,
To Shepherds as to Kings.
Let minstrels sweep the skilfu' string,
In lordly lighted ha':
The Shepherd stops his simple reed,
Blythe in the birken shaw.
The Princely revel may survey
Our rustic dance wi' scorn;
But are their hearts as light as ours,
Beneath the milk-white thorn!
The shepherd, in the flowery glen;
In shepherd's phrase, will woo:
The courtier tells a finer tale,
But is his heart as true!
These wild-wood flowers I've pu'd, to deck
That spotless breast o' thine :
The courtiers' gems may witness love,
But, 'tis na love like mine.
The charming month of May.1
IT was the charming month of May,
When all the flow'rs were fresh and gay.
One morning, by the break of day,
The youthful, charming Chloe-
From peaceful slumber she arose,
Girt on her mantle and her hose,
And o'er the flow'ry mead she goes-
The youthful, charming Chloe.
1 Altered from an older set of words.
Chorus.-Lovely was she by the dawn,
Youthful Chloe, charming Chloe,
Tripping o'er the pearly lawn,
The youthful, charming Chloe.
The feather'd people you might see
Perch'd all around on every tree,
In notes of sweetest melody
They hail the charming Chloe;
Till, painting gay the eastern skies,
The glorious sun began to rise,
Outrival'd by the radiant eyes
Of youthful, charming Chloe.
Lovely was she, &c.
Lassie wi' the lint-white Locks.1
Tune-"Rothiemurchie's Rant."
Chorus-Lassie wi' the lint-white locks,
Bonie lassie, artless lassie,
Wilt thou wi' me tent the flocks,
Wilt thou be my Dearie, O?
Now Nature cleeds the flowery lea,
And a' is young and sweet like thee,
O wilt thou share its joys wi' me,
And say thou'lt be my Dearie, O.
Lassie wi' the, &c.
The primrose bank, the wimpling burn,
The cuckoo on the milk-white thorn,
The wanton lambs at early morn,
Shall welcome thee, my Dearie, O.
Lassie wi' the, &c.
And when the welcome simmer shower
Has cheer'd ilk drooping little flower,
We'll to the breathing wood-bine bower,
At sultry noon, my Dearie, O.
Lassie wi' the, &c.
1 "Still harping on " Mr Lorimer's "daughter."
When Cynthia lights, wi' silver ray,
The weary shearer's hameward way,
Thro' yellow waving fields we'll stray,
And talk o' love, my Dearie, O.
Lassie wi' the, &c.
And when the howling wintry blast
Disturbs my Lassie's midnight rest,
Enclasped to my faithfu' breast,
I'll comfort thee, my Dearie, O.
Lassie wi' the, &c.
Dialogue Song.-Philly and Willy.1
Tune-"The Sow's tail to Geordie."
He. O Philly, happy be that day,
When roving thro' the gather'd hay,
My youthfu' heart was stown away,
And by thy charms, my Philly.
She. O Willy, aye I bless the grove
Where first I own'd my maiden love,
Whilst thou did pledge the Powers above,
To be my ain dear Willy.
Both. For a' the joys that gowd can gie,
I dinna care a single flie;
The {lad} I love's the {lad
And that's my ain dear
He. As songsters of the early year,
Are ilka day mair sweet to hear,
So ilka day to me mair dear
And charming is my Philly.
1 "I am much pleased with your idea of singing our songs in alternate
stanzas, Burns wrote to Thomson (Nov. 19, 1794).
She. As on the brier the budding rose,
Still richer breathes and fairer blows,
So in my tender bosom grows
The love I bear my Willy.
Both. For a' the joys, &c.
He. The milder sun and bluer sky
That crown my harvest cares wi' joy,
Were ne'er sae welcome to my eye
As is a sight o' Philly.
She. The little swallow's wanton wing,
Tho' wafting o'er the flowery Spring,
Did ne'er to me sic tidings bring,
As meeting o' my Willy,
Both. For a' the joys, &c.
He. The bee that thro' the sunny hour
Sips nectar in the op'ning flower,
Compar'd wi' my delight is poor,
Upon the lips o' Philly.
She. The woodbine in the dewy weet,
When ev'ning shades in silence meet,
Is nocht sae fragrant or sae sweet
As is a kiss o' Willy.
Both. For a' the joys, &c.
He. Let fortune's wheel at random rin,
And fools may tine, and knaves may win;
My thoughts are a' bound up in ane,
And that's my ain dear Philly.
She. What's a' the joys that gowd can gie?
I dinna care a single flie;
The lad I love's the lad for me,
And that's my ain dear Willy.
Both. For a' the joys, &c.
Contented wi' Little and cantie wi' Mair.1
Tune-"Lumps o' Puddin'."
CONTENTED Wi' little, and cantiea wi' mair,
Whene'er I forgather wi' Sorrow and Care,
I gie them a skelp as they're creeping alang,
Wi' a cog o' gude swatsd and an auld Scottish sang.
Chorus-Contented wi' little, &c.
I whiles claw the elbow o' troublesome thought;
But Man is a soger, and Life is a faught;
My mirth and gude humour are coin in my pouch,
And my Freedom's my Lairdship nae monarch dare touch. Contented wi' little, &c.
A townmond' o' trouble, should that be my fa',
A night o' gude fellowship sowthers it a'
When at the blythe end o' our journey at last,
Wha the deil ever thinks o' the road he has past?
Contented wi' little, &c.
Blind Chance, let her snapper and stoyte1 on her way;
Be't to me, be't frae me, e'en let the jade gae:
Come Ease, or come Travail, come Pleasure or Pain,
My warst word is: "Welcome, and welcome again!"
Contented wi' little, &c.
Farewell thou Stream.2
Air-"Nansie's to the greenwood gane."
FAREWELL, thou stream that winding flows
Around Eliza's dwelling;
O mem❜ry! spare the cruel thoes
Within my bosom swelling.
f twelvemonth. 1 The air is described by Burns as "Bacchanalian." The words represent his own troubled mind at this date, with his convivial consolations.
• scratch. 1 stumble and stagger.
* An altered version of the lines on Mrs Riddel, "The Last Time I came o'er the Moor."
|