The Powers aboon will tent thee;
Misfortune sha'na steer thee;
Thou 'rt like themselves sae lovely,
That ill they'll ne'er let near thee.
Return again, fair Lesley!
Return to Caledonie !
That we may brag, we hae a lass
There's nane again sae bonnie.
ADDRESS TO THE WOOD-LARK.
TUNE-Where'll bonnie Ann lie.
O STAY, Sweet warbling wood-lark, stay,
Nor quit me for the trembling spray :
A hapless lover courts thy lay,
Thy soothing fond complaining.
Again, again that tender part,
That I may catch thy melting art;
For surely that wad touch her heart,
Wha kills me wi' disdaining.
Say, was thy little mate unkind,
And heard thee as the careless wind?
O, nocht but love and sorrow join'd,
Sic notes o' wae could wauken.
Thou tells o' never-ending care;
O' speechless grief and dark despair;
For pity's sake, sweet bird, nae mair,
Or my poor heart is broken!
TUNE-This is no my ain House.
O this is no my ain lassie,
Fair tho' the lassie be;
O weel ken I my ain lassie,
Kind love is in her ee.
I SEE a form, I see a face,
Ye weel may wi' the fairest place:
It wants, to me, the witching grace,
The kind love that 's in her ee.
She's bonnie, blooming, straight, and tall,
And lang has had my heart in thrall;
And aye it charms my very saul,
The kind love that's in her ee.
A thief sae pawkie is my Jean,
To steal a blink, by a' unseen;
But gleg as light are lovers' een,
When kind love is in the ee.
O this is no, &c.
It may escape the courtly sparks;
It may escape the learned clerks;
But weel the watching lover marks
The kind love that's in her ee.
TIBBIE, I HAE SEEN THE DAY.
TUNE-Invercauld's Reel.
O Tibbie, I hae seen the day
Ye wouldna been sae shy;
For laik o' gear ye lightly me,
But, trowth, I carena by.
YESTREEN I met you on the moor,
Ye spakna, but gaed by like stoure:
Ye geck at me because I'm poor,
But fient a hair care I.
O Tibbie, I hae, &c.
I doubtna, lass, but ye may think,
Because ye hae the name o' clink,
That ye can please me at a wink,
Whene'er ye like to try.
O Tibbie, I hae, &c.
But sorrow tak him that 's sae mean,
Altho' his pouch o' coin were clean,
Wha follows ony saucy quean
That looks sae proud and high.
O Tibbie, I hae, &c.
Altho' a lad were e'er sae smart,
If that he want the yellow dirt,
Ye'll cast your head anither airt,
And answer him fu' dry.
O Tibbie, I hae, &c.
But if he hae the name o' gear,
Ye'll fasten to him like a brier,
Tho' hardly he for sense or lear
Be better than the kye.
O Tibbie, I hae, &c.
But, Tibbie, lass, tak my advice;
Your daddy's gear maks you sae nice,
The deil a ane wad spier your price,
Were ye as poor as I.
O Tibbie, I hae, &c.
There lives a lass in yonder park,
I wouldna gie her in her sark,
For thee wi' a' thy thousand mark :
Ye needna look sae high.
O, WAT YE WHA'S IN YON TOWN?
TUNE-The bonnie Lass in yon Town.
O, WAT ye wha's in yon town,
Ye see the e'enin sun upon ?
The fairest dame's in yon town,
That e'enin sun is shining on.
Now haply down yon gay green shaw,
She wanders by yon spreading tree:
How blest, ye flowers that round her blaw,
Ye catch the glances o' her ee!
How blest, ye birds that round her sing,
And welcome in the blooming year!
And doubly welcome be the spring,
The season to my Lucy dear.
The sun blinks blithe on yon town,
And on yon bonnie braes of Ayr;
But my delight in yon town,
And dearest bliss, is Lucy fair.
Without my love, not a' the charms
O' Paradise could yield me joy;
But gie me Lucy in my arms,
And welcome Lapland's dreary sky.
My cave wad be a lover's bower,
Tho' raging winter rent the air;
And she a lovely little flower,
That I wad tent and shelter there.
O sweet is she in yon town,
Yon sinkin sun's gane down upon;
A fairer than's in yon town,
His setting beam ne'er shone upon.
If angry fate is sworn my foe,
And suffering I am doom'd to bear;
I careless quit aught else below,
But spare me, spare me, Lucy dear.
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