I make indeed my daily bread, but ne'er can make it farther, O; Had you the wealth Potosi boasts, or nations to adore you, O, JOHN BARLEYCORN. A BALLAD. THERE were three kings into the east, And they hae sworn a solemn oath John Barleycorn should die. They took a plough and ploughed him down, Put clods upon his head; And they hae sworn a solemn oath John Barleycorn was dead. But the cheerful Spring came kindly on, And showers began to fall; John Barleycorn got up again, And sore surprised them all. The sultry sons of Summer came, The sober Autumn entered mild, His bending joints and drooping head His colour sickened more and more, He faded into age; And then his enemies began To show their deadly rage. They've taen a weapon, long and sharp, And cut him by the knee; Then tied him fast upon a cart, Like a rogue for forgerie. They laid him down upon his back, They hung him up before the storm, And turned him o'er and o'er. have taken And they hae taen his very heart's blood, And still the more and more they drank, John Barleycorn was a hero bold, For if you do but taste his blood, "Twill make a man forget his wo; Then let us toast John Barleycorn, taken MARY MORRISON. OH, Mary, at thy window be, It is the wished, the trysted hour! Those smiles and glances let me see, That make the miser's treasure poor: How blithely wad I bide the stoure, A weary slave frae sun to sun, Yestreen when to the trembling string, To thee my fancy took its wing, I sat, but neither heard nor saw. Though this was fair, and that was braw, I sighed, and said amang them a', would, dust from last night went not Wi' sma' persuasion she agreed To see me through the barley. The sky was blue, the wind was still, I ken't her heart was a' my ain; I locked her in my fond embrace; I hae been blithe wi' comrades dear; I hae been merry drinkin'; I hae been joyfu' gath'rin' gear; I hae been happy thinkin': But a' the pleasures e'er I saw, Though three times doubled fairly, That happy night was worth them a', CHORUS. Corn rigs, and barley rigs, among knew, own over money MONTGOMERY'S PEGGY. TUNE-Gala Water. ALTHOUGH my bed were in yon muir Had I my dear Montgomery's Peggy. When o'er the hill beat surly storms, And winter nights were dark and rainy; Were I a baron proud and high, And horse and servants waiting ready, Then a' 'twad gie o' joy to me, The sharin't with Montgomery's Peggy. among twould, give sharing it SONG COMPOSED IN AUGUST. Now westlin winds and slaught'ring guns Now waving grain, wide o'er the plain, And the moon shines bright, when I rove at night To muse upon my charmer. The partridge loves the fruitful fells; Thus every kind their pleasure find, Some social join, and leagues combine; Some solitary wander: Avaunt, away! the cruel sway, Tyrannic man's dominion; The sportsman's joy, the murdering cry, But Peggy, dear, the evening's clear, The sky is blue, the fields in view, western among heron wood-pigeon Come, let us stray our gladsome way, We'll gently walk, and sweetly talk, Till the silent moon shine clearly; So dear can be as thou to me, GREEN GROW THE RASHES. TUNE-Green grow the Rashes. CHORUS. Green grow the rashes, O! Green grow the rashes, O! The warly race may riches chase, But gie me a canny hour at e'en, For you sae douce, ye sneer at this, : rushes worldly give, happy topsy-turvy so grave THE CURE FOR ALL CARE. |