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ALTHO' my bed were in yon muir,
Had I my dear Montgomerie's Peggy.
When o'er the hill beat surly storms,
Were I a baron proud and high,
And horse and servants waiting ready;
The sharin't with Montgomerie's Peggy.
The Ploughman's Life."
As I was a-wand'ring ae morning in spring,
I heard a young ploughman sae sweetly to sing;
There's nae life like the ploughman's in the month o' sweet
The lav'rock in the morning she'll rise frae her nest,
THE RONALDS OF THE BENNALS
The Ronalds of the Bennals.1
IN Tarbolton, ye ken, there are proper young men,
But ken ye the Ronalds that live in the Bennals,
Their father's a laird, and weel he can spare't,
There's ane they ca' Jean, I'll warrant ye've seen
But for sense and guid taste she'll vie wi' the best,
The charms o' the min', the langer they shine,
If ye be for Miss Jean, tak this frae a frien',
The Laird o' Blackbyre wad gang through the fire,
The Laird o' Braehead has been on his speed,
Then Anna comes in, the pride o' her kin,
If I should detail the pick and the wale
I lo'e her mysel, but darena weel tell,
Yet I wadna choose to let her refuse,
Though I canna ride in weel-booted pride,
My coat and my vest, they are Scotch o' the best,
My sarks they are few, but five o' them new,
There are no mony poets sae braw, man.
• woven in a reed of 1200 divisions.
HERE'S TO THY HEALTH
I never had frien's weel stockit in means,
Nae weel-tocher'da aunts, to wait on their drants,b
I never was cannie for hoarding o' money,
Song-Here's to thy Health.1
HERE'S to thy health, my bonie lass,
I ken they scorn my low estate,
Sma' sillera will relieve me.
I'll count my health my greatest wealth,
I'll fear nae scant, I'll bode nae want,
But far off fowls hae feathers fair,
Tho' they seem fair, still have a care;
They may prove as bad as I am.
But at twal' at night, when the moon shines bright,
My dear, I'll come and see thee;
For the man that loves his mistress weel,
Nae travel makes him weary.
The Lass of Cessnock Banks.1
A Song of Similes.
Tune-"If he be a Butcher neat and trim.”
ON Cessnock banks a lassie dwells;
An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.
She's sweeter than the morning dawn,
1 The lass is identified as Ellison Begbie, a servant wench, daughter of a farmer. She seems to have refused him while he was at Irvine, in 1781-82. No woman, he is said to have remarked, could have made him so happy. The poem is less Scottish than many of his
b look for.
early works, and more artificial in its recurrent rhymes.
The correct text first appeared in the Aldine edition of 1889, but Cromek had already printed the piece as taken down from "the lass" herself. Naturally the variations are numerous.