Read Delphi Complete Works of Robert Burns (Illustrated) (Delphi Poets Series) Online
Authors: Robert Burns
500.
Craigieburn Wood (Second Version) (Song)
SWEET fa’s the eve on Craigieburn,
And blythe awakes the morrow;
But a’ the pride o’ Spring’s return
Can yield me nocht but sorrow.
I see the flowers and spreading trees,
5
I hear the wild birds singing;
But what a weary wight can please,
And Care his bosom wringing!
Fain, fain would I my griefs impart,
Yet dare na for your anger;
10
But secret love will break my heart,
If I conceal it langer.
If thou refuse to pity me,
If thou shalt love another,
When yon green leaves fade frae the tree,
15
Around my grave they’ll wither.
501.
The Solemn League and Covenant
Versicles of 1795
THE SOLEMN League and Covenant
Now brings a smile, now brings a tear;
But sacred Freedom, too, was theirs:
If thou’rt a slave, indulge thy sneer.
502.
Lines to John Syme, Esq., with a dozen of Porter
Lines sent with a Present of a Dozen of Porter.
O HAD the malt thy strength of mind,
Or hops the flavour of thy wit,
‘Twere drink for first of human kind,
A gift that e’en for Syme were fit.
JERUSALEM TAVERN, DUMFRIES.
503.
inscription on Mr. Syme’s crystal goblet
THERE’S Death in the cup, so beware!
Nay, more — there is danger in touching;
But who can avoid the fell snare,
The man and his wine’s so bewitching!
504.
Apology to Mr. Syme for not dining with him
NO more of your guests, be they titled or not,
And cookery the first in the nation;
Who is proof to thy personal converse and wit,
Is proof to all other temptation.
505.
Epitaph for Mr. Gabriel Richardson, Brewer
HERE Brewer Gabriel’s fire’s extinct,
And empty all his barrels:
He’s blest — if, as he brew’d, he drink,
In upright, honest morals.
506.
GRACIE, thou art a man of worth,
O be thou Dean for ever!
May he be d — d to hell henceforth,
Who fauts thy weight or measure!
507.
CAULD is the e’enin blast,
O’ Boreas o’er the pool,
An’ dawin’ it is dreary,
When birks are bare at Yule.
Cauld blaws the e’enin blast,
5
When bitter bites the frost,
And, in the mirk and dreary drift,
The hills and glens are lost:
Ne’er sae murky blew the night
That drifted o’er the hill,
10
But bonie Peg-a-Ramsay
Gat grist to her mill.
508.
Inscription at Friars’ Carse Hermitage
To the Memory of Robert Riddell.
TO Riddell, much lamented man,
This ivied cot was dear;
Wandr’er, dost value matchless worth?
This ivied cot revere.
509.
There was a Bonie Lass (Fragment of a Song)
THERE was a bonie lass, and a bonie, bonie lass,
And she lo’ed her bonie laddie dear;
Till War’s loud alarms tore her laddie frae her arms,
Wi’ mony a sigh and tear.
Over sea, over shore, where the cannons loudly roar,
5
He still was a stranger to fear;
And nocht could him quail, or his bosom assail,
But the bonie lass he lo’ed sae dear.
510.
Wee Willie Gray (Fragment of a Song)
Tune
— “Wee Totum Fogg.”
WEE Willie Gray, and his leather wallet,
Peel a willow wand to be him boots and jacket;
The rose upon the breir will be him trews an’ doublet,
The rose upon the breir will be him trews an’ doublet,
Wee Willie Gray, and his leather wallet,
5
Twice a lily-flower will be him sark and cravat;
Feathers of a flee wad feather up his bonnet,
Feathers of a flee wad feather up his bonnet.
511.
O aye my wife she dang me (Song)
Chorus
— O aye my wife she dang me,
An’ aft my wife she bang’d me,
If ye gie a woman a’ her will,
Gude faith! she’ll soon o’er-gang ye.
ON peace an’ rest my mind was bent,
5
And, fool I was! I married;
But never honest man’s intent
Sane cursedly miscarried.
O aye my wife, &c.
Some sairie comfort at the last,
10
When a’ thir days are done, man,
My pains o’ hell on earth is past,
I’m sure o’ bliss aboon, man,
O aye my wife, &c.
512.
Guid ale keeps the heart aboon (Song)
Chorus
— O gude ale comes and gude ale goes;
Gude ale gars me sell my hose,
Sell my hose, and pawn my shoon —
Gude ale keeps my heart aboon!
I HAD sax owsen in a pleugh,
5
And they drew a’ weel eneugh:
I sell’d them a’ just ane by ane —
Gude ale keeps the heart aboon!
O gude ale comes, &c.
Gude ale hauds me bare and busy,
10
Gars me moop wi’ the servant hizzie,
Stand i’ the stool when I hae done —
Gude ale keeps the heart aboon!
O gude ale comes, &c.
513.
Steer her up and haud her gaun (Song)
O STEER her up, an’ haud her gaun,
Her mither’s at the mill, jo;
An’ gin she winna tak a man,
E’en let her tak her will, jo.
First shore her wi’ a gentle kiss,
5
And ca’ anither gill, jo;
An’ gin she tak the thing amiss,
E’en let her flyte her fill, jo.
O steer her up, an’ be na blate,
An’ gin she tak it ill, jo,
10
Then leave the lassie till her fate,
And time nae langer spill, jo:
Ne’er break your heart for ae rebute,
But think upon it still, jo:
That gin the lassie winna do’t,
15
Ye’ll find anither will, jo.