THE PLOUGHMAN'S LIFE

As I was a-wand'ring ae morning in spring,
I heard a young ploughman sae sweetly to sing;
And as he was singin', thir words he did say,—
There's nae life like the ploughman's in the month o'
sweet May.

The lav rock in the morning she'll rise frae her nest,
And mount is the air wi' the dew on her breast,
And wi' the merry ploughman she'll whistle and sing,
And at night she'll return to her nest back again.

THE RONALDS OF THE BENNALS

Is Tarbolton, ye ken, there are proper young men,
And proper young lasses and a', man;

But ken ye the Ronalds that live in the Bennals,
They carry the gree frae them a’, man.

Their father's a laird, and weel he can spare't,
Braid money to tocher them a', man;
To proper young men, he'll clink in the hand-
Gowd guineas a hunder or twa, man.

There's ane they ca' Jean, I'll warrant ye've seen
As bonie a lass or as braw, man;

But for sense and guid taste she'll vie wi' the best,
And a conduct that beautifies a’, man.

The charms o' the min', the langer they shine,
The mair admiration they draw, man;
While peaches and cherries, and roses and lilies,
They fade and they wither awa, man,

If ye be for Miss Jean, tak this frae a frien',
A hint o' a rival or twa, man;

The Laird o' Blackbyre wad gang through the fire, If that wad entice her awa, man.

The Laird o' Braehead has been on his speed,

For mair than a towmond or twa, man;
The Laird o' the Ford will straught on a board,
If he canna get her at a', man.

Then Anna comes in, the pride o' her kin,
The boast of our bachelors a', man:
Sae sonsy and sweet, sae fully complete,
She steals our affections awa, man.

If I should detail the pick and the wale
O'lasses that live here awa, man,
The fau't wad be mine if they didna shine
The sweetest and best o' them a', man.

I lo'e her inysel, but darena weel tell,
My poverty keeps me in awe, man;
For making o' rhymes, and working at times,
Does little or naething at a', man.

Yet I wadna choose to let her refuse,

Nor hae't in her power to say na, man: For though I be poor, unnoticed, obscure, My stomach's as proud as them a', man.

Though I canna ride in weel-booted pride,
And flee o'er the hills like a craw, man,
I can haud up my head wi' the best o' the breed,
Though fluttering ever so braw, man.

My coat and my vest, they are Scotch o' the best,
O' pairs o' guid breeks I hae twa, man;
And stockings and pumps to put on my stumps,
And ne'er a wrang steek in them a', man.

My sarks they are few, but five o' them new,
Twal' hundred, as white as the snaw, man,

I'll count my health my greatest wealth,
Sae lang as I'll enjoy it;

I'll fear nae scant, I'll bode nae want,
As lang's I get employment.

But far off fowls hae feathers fair,

And, aye until ye try them,

Tho' they seem fair, still have a care;

They may prove as bad a 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 BANKS1

A Song of Similes

Tune-" If he be a Butcher neat and trim."

ON Cessnock banks a lassie dwells;

Could I describe her shape and mein;
Our lasses a' she far excels,

An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.

She's sweeter than the morning dawn,
When rising Phoebus first is seen,
And dew-drops twinkle o'er the lawn;
An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.

She's stately like yon youthful ash,

That grows the cowslip braes between,
And drinks the stream with vigour fresh;

An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.

1 The lass is identified as Ellison Begbie, a servant wench, daughter of a faimer.-Lang.