The sparrow-hawk is in the air, The corbie-craw is on the sweep; An' ye be wise, ye'll bide at hame, And never cheep, and never cheep. The robin came to the wren's nest, And keekit in, and keekit in I saw ye thick wi' wee Tam-tit, Ye cuttie quean, yé cuttie quean. The ruddie feathers frae my breast Thy nest hae lined, thy nest hae lined; Now wha will keep ye frae the blast, And winter wind, and winter wind? IT'S GUDE TO BE MERRY AND WISE. It's gude to be merry and wise, It's gude to be honest and true ; And afore ye're off wi' the auld love, It's best to be on wi' the new. I daut wi' young Jess o' the glen. I woo wi' fair Bess o' the brae; I court wi' gay Meg o' the Mill, And I wotna wha I will hae. A man mayna marry but ane, Though he may gang courting wi twae ; I've had fifteen loves in my time, And fifteen more I may hae. The black are maist loving and kind, The brown they are sonsie and civil ; The red they may do in the dark, And the white they may go to the devil. The maids of our city are vain, Proud, peevish, and pale i' the hue; But the lass frae the grass and the gowans Is sweet as a rose in the dew. O, where the streams sing in the woods, And the hill overlooketh the valley, O there live the maidens for me, As fair and fresh as the lily. I've come to a gallant resolve, I've said it, and sung it, and sworn, I shall woo by the register book, And begin wi' Peg Purdie the morn. COMING THROUGH THE RYE. Jenny's a' wat poor lassie, Jenny's seldom dry; Coming through the rye. And ne'er a body nigh; Coming through the rye? Gin a body meet a body Coming through the broom ; Need a body gloom. A flowery bank was nigh, And what the waur am I. Gin a body meet a body Coming through the glen, Need the parish ken. To let him wail and sigh; And what the waur am I. (An amended copy of an old song, with innumerable variations. The above version is from Allan Cunningham's Songs of Scotland ;some of the improvements are by Burns.] MY LOVER HAS LEFT ME. My lover has left me, Wot ye the cause why? No mailens have I ; Or wear him, or no, And e'en let him go. His flocks may all perish, His gowd may all flee, As he has left me. And parting is grief; Is worse than a thief. A thief will but rob me, Take all that I have, grave: And bring me to dust- May woman ne'er trust ! [From Johnson's Musical Museum, vol. ii. 1788. This is an amended copy from Johnson's, which Dr. Blacklock furnished in a very incomplete state.) OUR GUDEMAN CAME HAME AT E’EN. Our gudeman came hame at e’en, And hame came he, Where nae horse should be: How can this be? Without the leave o' me? Ye auld blind dotard bodie, And blinder may ye be, My mither sent to me. And meikle hae I seen, Saw I never nane. Our gudeman came hame at e'en, And hame came he, Where nae boots should be : What's this I see? Without the leave o' me? And waur may ye see, My minnie sent to me. she. And muckle hae I seen, Saw I never nane. Our gudeman came hame at e’en, And hame came he, Where nae sword should he : |