The Canongate Burns (131 page)

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Authors: Robert Burns

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Wat Ye Wha that Lo'es Me

Tune: Morag
First printed in Thomson, 1799.

O wat ye wha that lo'es me,
know, who, loves

       And has my heart a keeping?

O sweet is she that lo'es me,
loves

       As dews o' summer weeping,

5
       In tears the rosebuds steeping. —

Chorus

O that's the lassie o' my heart,

       My lassie, ever dearer;

O that's the queen o' womankind,

       And ne'er a ane to peer her. —
one, equal

10
If thou shalt meet a lassie

       In grace and beauty charming,

That e'en thy chosen lassie,
even

       Erewhile thy breast sae warming,
so

       Had ne'er sic powers alarming. —
such

              O that's the lassie &c.

15
If thou hadst heard her talking,

       And thy attention's plighted,

That ilka body talking
every

       But her, by thee is slighted;

       And thou art all-delighted. —

              O that's the lassie &c.

20
If thou hast met this Fair One,

       When frae her thou hast parted,
from

If every other Fair One,

       But her thou hast deserted,

       And thou art broken hearted. —

              O that's the lassie &c. 

Burns sent a copy of this work to Robert Cleghorn in June 1796. He told Cleghorn he might have sent it ‘long ago' had he not been the ‘child of disaster' (Letter 687). The poet's health had suffered and, to make things worse, he lost his only living legitimate daughter Elizabeth Riddell Burns in September 1795.

To John Syme

On Refusing to Dine with Him, 17th Dec. 1795

First printed in Currie, 1800.

No more of your guests, be they titled or not,

And cook'ry the first in the nation:

Who is proof to thy personal converse and wit,

Is proof to all other temptation. —

John Syme (1755–1831) was a son of a Writer to the Signet and joined the army at 19 years. He lived at Barncailzie, near Kirkcudbright and became Distributor of Stamps for Dumfriesshire in 1791. After moving from Ellisland to Dumfries Burns lived above Syme's office before moving to a larger house at the Mill Hole Brae (now Burns Street). Symelargely shared and was sympathetic to the poet's radical
views, but appears to have been more decorously circumspect of political radicalism during the oppressive mid-1790s than Burns.

To John Syme

With a Present of a Dozen of Porter

First printed in Currie, 1800.

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 ev'n for Syme were fit.

Jerusalem Tavern, Dumfries

    

For notes on Syme, see
To John Syme, On Refusing to Dine with Him
.

On Mr. Pitt's Hair-Powder Tax

First printed in Barke, 1955.

PRAY Billy Pitt explain thy rigs,

        This new poll-tax of thine!

‘I mean to mark the GUINEA PIGS

        From other common SWINE'.

Within four lines and by question and response of two couplets, Burns neatly yokes together two of the radicals most hated items, Pitt's increased taxation and Burke's remark about the ‘Swinish multitude'. The 1795 hair-powder tax was charged at one Guinea. White corn flour was used, especially by the upper classes, to powder wigs. The tax was an attempt to raise money and curb the use of corn flour at a period when there were food shortages and regional famine (See
The Cob-Web
). Dr John Wolcot (Peter Pindar), of whom Kinsley is so dismissive, wrote a fine satirical piece on this same subject, called
Hair-Powder
:

‘Lo, the poor Girl whom carrot-colour shocks,

Pines pennyless, and blushes for her Locks!'

Refused to fly to Powder's friendly aid,

She bids them seek in Caps the secret shade.

No ringlets now around her neck to wave,

Colleen must
hide
the reddening shame, or
shave
.

At thee she flings her curses, Pitt, and cries;

At thee she darts the Lightnings of her Eyes;

And thinks that Love ne'er warm'd
him
who could vex

With wanton strokes of cruelty, the Sex.

The Solemn League and Covenant

First printed in Cunningham, 1834.

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.

These lines were inscribed by Burns in a copy of Sir John Sinclair's
The Statistical Account for Scotland
1794 [probably the Dumfriesshire volume], relating to the Covenanters killed in 1685. Cunningham's text is not the exact version. It was first printed verbatim in 1870 by McDowell in his excellent small book,
Burns in Dumfries
shire
. It perfectly catches Burns's ambivalence to his own Presbyterian inheritance.

The Bob o' Dumblane

First printed in Barke, 1955.

LASSIE, lend me your braw hemp-heckle,
fine flax comb

        And I'll lend you my thripplin kame:
separating comb

My heckle is broken, it canna be gotten,
comb, cannot

        And we'll gae dance the Bob o' Dumblane. —
go

Twa gaed to the wood, to the wood, to the wood,
two went

        Twa gaed to the wood, three cam hame:
home

An 't be na weel bobbit, weel bobbit, weel bobbit,
if it were/not well

        An 't be na weel bobbit, we'll bob it again. —

This is a traditional song adapted by Burns. The first two lines are taken from Ramsay's version of
The Bob o' Dumblane
, which is a song about a dance of the same name. With Burns the song takes on a sexual dimension. Although he did not print it, it was sent to Johnson in the late Autumn of 1795.

To Collector Mitchell

Addressed to Mr Mitchell, Collector of Excise, Dumfries

First printed in Currie, 1800.

FRIEND o' the Poet, tried and leal,
loyal

Wha, wanting thee, might beg, or steal:
who, lacking

Alake! Alake! the meikle Deil
alas, great Devil

        Wi' a' his witches

5
Are at it, skelpin jig an' 
reel
slapping

        In my poor pouches.
pockets

Fu' fain I, modestly wad hint it,
right well would

That ONE POUND, ONE, I sairly want it;
sorely miss

If wi' the hizzie down ye sent it,
maid, you

10
        It would be kind;

And while my heart wi' life-blood dunted,
beat

        I'd bear't in mind.

So may the AULD YEAR gang out moanin,
old, go

To see the NEW come, laden, groanin,

15
Wi' double plenty, o'er the loanin,
pasture

        To THEE and THINE;

DOMESTIC PEACE and COMFORT crownin

        The hale DESIGN.
whole

Hogmanai eve: 1795

POSTSCRIPT

Ye've heard this while how I've been licket,
beaten

And by fell Death 'maist nearly nicket;
taken

Grim loon! he got me by the fecket,
fool, jacket

        And sair he sheuk;
sore, shook

5
But by gude luck, I lap a wicket,
good, leapt thro' a gap

        And turn'd a neuk. corner

But by that HEALTH, I've got a share o't!

And by that LIFE, I'm promis'd mair o't!
more

My hale and weel, I'll tak a care o't
health, welfare

10
        A tentier way:
more careful

Then fareweel, Folly, hilt and hair o't,
every bit of it

        For ance and ay!
once, always

John Mitchell (1731–1806) was appointed Collector of Excise in Dumfries in 1788, having worked in Kilmarnock and Fraserburgh. Burns was introduced to him in 1789. He and Burns became close friends and the poet often sent him first drafts of his songs.

A Lass wi' a Tocher

Tune: Balinamona Ora
First printed in Thomson, 1799.

Awa wi' your witchcraft o' Beauty's alarms,
away

The slender bit beauty you grasp in your arms:

O, gie me the lass that has acres o' charms,
give

O, gie me the lass wi' the weel-stockit farms.
well stocked

Chorus

5
Then hey, for a lass wi' a tocher,
dowry

Then hey, for a lass wi' a tocher,

Then hey, for a lass wi' a tocher;

The nice yellow guineas for me.

Your Beauty's a flower in the morning that blows,

10
And withers the faster the faster it grows;

But the rapturous charm o' the bonie green knowes,
hill ridges

Ilk spring they're new deckit wi' bonie white yowes.
each, decked, ewes

Then hey, for a lass &c.

And e'en when this Beauty your bosom has blest,
even

The brightest o' Beauty may cloy, when possesst;

15
But the sweet yellow darlings wi' Geordie imprest,
gold coins

The langer ye hae them,— the mair they're carest!
longer, have, more

Then hey, for a lass &c.

Burns wrote these lyrics, as he told Thomson ‘to another Hibernian melody I admire' (Letter 689). Uncharacteristic of Burns's songs, this is an assertion of triumphant masculine materialism.

To Colonel De Peyster

Or Poem on Life – Dumfries, 1796

First printed in Currie, 1800.

MY honor'd colonel, deep I feel

Your interest in the Poet's weal;
welfare

Ah! now sma' heart hae I to speel
have, climb

        The steep Parnassus,

5
Surrounded thus by bolus pill,
large pill

        And potion glasses.

O what a canty warld were it,
jolly world

Would pain and care, and sickness spare it;

And Fortune favor worth and merit,

10
        As they deserve:

(And aye a rowth, roast beef and claret;
always plenty

        Syne, wha wad starve?)
then, who would

Dame Life, tho' fiction out may trick her,

And in paste gems and frippery deck her;

15
Oh! flickering, feeble, and unsicker
uncertain

        I've found her still,

Ay wavering like the willow wicker,
branch

        'Tween good and ill.

Then that curst carmagnole, auld Satan,
rascal, old

20
Watches, like bawdrons by a rattan,
pussy, rat

Our sinfu' saul to get a claute on
soul, grip

        Wi' felon ire;

Syne, whip! his tail ye'll ne'er cast saut on,
salt

        He's aff like fire.
off/away

25
Ah! Nick, ah Nick it is na fair,
The Devil, not

First shewing us the tempting ware,

Bright wines and bonie lasses rare,

        To put us daft;

Syne weave, unseen, thy spider snare
then

30
        O' Hell's damned waft.
web

Poor man the flie, aft bizzes bye,
often buzzes

And aft as chance he comes thee nigh,

Thy auld damned elbow yeuks wi' joy,
old, itches

        And hellish pleasure;

35
Already in thy fancy's eye,

        Thy sicker treasure.
certain

Soon heels o'er gowdie! in he gangs,
head over heels, goes

And, like a sheep-head on a tangs,
burning tongs

Thy girnin laugh enjoys his pangs
snarling

40
        And murdering wrestle,

As dangling in the wind he hangs

        A gibbet's tassel.

But lest you think I am uncivil,

To plague you with this draunting drivel,
droning

45
Abjuring a' intentions evil,

        I quat my pen:
quit

The Lord preserve us frae the Devil!
from

        Amen! Amen!

Colonel Arentz Schuyler De Peyster was an American-born soldier serving in the British army until his retirement in 1794. Living at Mavis Grove near Dumfries, he was appointed Colonel of the Dumfries Volunteers. He was related, through marriage, to the poet's friend, John McMurdo. He was 68 years old when Burns wrote these stanzas. He died in 1822, aged 95 years. Ll. 9–12 carry a politically dissident load.

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