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AULD ROB MORRIS.

The two first lines of this song are taken from an old ballad. The
rest are original.

THERE's auld Rob Morris who wons' in yon glen,
He's the king o' gude fellows and wale of auld men;
He has gowd in his coffers, he has owsen and kine,
And ae bonnie lass, his darling and mine.

She's fresh as the morning, the fairest in May;
She's sweet as the ev'ning amang the new hay;
As blythe and as artless as the lamb on the lea,
And dear to my heart as the light to my ee.

But, oh! she's an heiress, auld Robin's a laird,
And my daddie has naught but a cot-house and yard
A wooer like me maunna hope to come speed,
The wounds I must hide that will soon be my dead.
The day comes to me, but delight brings me nane;
The night comes to me, but my rest it is gane;
I wander my lane, like a night-troubled ghaist,
And I sigh as my heart it wad burst in my breast.
Oh had she but been of a lower degree,

I then might hae hoped she wad smiled upon me;
Oh how past describing had then been my bliss,
As now my distraction no words can express!

THE BRAW WOOER.

The original of this song, the "Lothian Lassie," consisted of some nine or tem very silly verses; one of them may be quoted:

"The mither cried butt the honse, Jockie come here,

Ye've naething to do but the question to speir

The question was speir'd, and the bargain was struck,
The neebors came in and wish'd them gude luck."

TUNE-Lothian Lassie.

LAST May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen,
And sair wi' his love he did deave1 me;

I said there was naething I hated like men!
The deuce gae wi' 'm to believe me, believe me,
The deuce gae wi' 'm to believe me.

1 Dwells.-2 Choice.-3 Handsome.-4 Deafen.

He spak o' the darts in my bonnie black een,
And vow'd for my love he was dying:
I said he might die when he liked, for Jean,
The Lord forgie me for lying, for lying,
The Lord forgie me for lying.

A weel-stocked mailen,1 himsel for the laird,
And marriage, aff-hand, were his proffers,
I never loot on that I ken'd it, or cared,

But thought I might hae waur3 offers, waur offers,
But thought I might hae waur offers.

But what wad ye think? in a fortnight or less,
(The deil tak his taste to gae near me!)
He up the lang loan to my black cousin Bess,

Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her, could bear her
Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her.

But a' the neist week as I fretted wi' care,
I gaed to the tryste o' Dalgarnock,
And wha but my fine fickle wooer was there;
I glowr'd' as I'd seen a warlock, a warlock,
I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock.

6

But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink,
Lest neebors might say I was saucy;

My wooer he caper'd as he 'd been in drink,
And vow'd I was his dear lassie, dear lassie,
And vow'd I was his dear lassie.

I spier'd' for my cousin, fu' couthy and sweet,
Gin she had recover'd her hearin',

And how her new shoon' fit her auld shackled feet;
But, heavens! how he fell a-swearin', a-swearin',
But, heavens! how he fell a-swearin'.

He begged, for gudesake! I wad be his wife,
Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrow;

So, e'en to preserve the poor body in life,

I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow,

I think I maun wed him to-morrow.

1 A well-stocked farm.-2 Let.-3 Worse.-4 Fair.- Stared.-6 A wizard. Inquired.-8 Loving.-9 Shoes.

WHAT CAN A YOUNG LASSIE DO, ETC.

Burns is indebted to an old song for the following happy and very graphic verses. They were written for Johnson's "Museum."

TUNE-What can a lassie do?

WHAT can a young lassie, what shall a young lassie,
What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man?
Bad luck on the pennie that tempted my minnie1
To sell her poor Jenny for siller an' lan'!
Bad luck on the pennie, &c.

He's always compleenin' frae mornin' to e'enin',
He hosts and he hirples the weary day lang;
He's doyl't' and he's dozin', his bluid it is frozen,
Oh dreary's the night wi' a crazy auld man!
He's doyl't and he's dozin', &c.

He hums and he hankers, he frets and he cankers,
I never can please him, do a' that I can;
He's peevish and jealous of a' the young fellows,
Oh dools on the day I met wi' an auld man!
He's peevish and jealous, &c.

My auld auntie Katie upon me taks pity,
I'll do my endeavor to follow her plan:

I'll cross him, and wrack him, until Ì heart-break him,
And then his auld brass will buy me a new pan.
I'll cross him, and wrack him, &c.

HEY FOR A LASS WI' A TOCHER.

Your "Hey for a lass wi' a tocher" is excellent, and with you the subject is new Indeed. It is the first time I have seen you debasing the god of soft desire into an amateur of acres and guineas.-Thomson.

TUNE-Balinamona ora.

AWA wi' your witchcraft o' beauty's alarms,
The slender bit beauty you grasp in your arms;
O gie me the lass that has acres o' charms,
O gie me the lass wi' the weel-stockit farms.

1 Mother 2 Coughs.-3 Creeps, or walks crazily.-4 Stupid.-5 Sorrow.

Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher,1
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,
And withers the faster, the faster it grows;

But the rapturous charm o' the bonnie green knowes,'
Ilk spring they're new deckit wi' bonnie white yowes.'
Then hey, &c.

And e'en when this beauty your bosom has blest,
The brightest o' beauty may cloy when possest;
But the sweet yellow darlings wi' Geordie imprest,
The langer ye hae them the mair they 're carest.
Then hey, &c.

THE BIG-BELLIED BOTTLE.

To two old "bottle" songs we are partly indebted for the following verses. From the one the Poet has borrowed the title; from the other the tune.

TUNE-Prepare, my dear brethren, to the tavern let's fly.
No churchman am I for to rail and to write,
No statesman or soldier to plot or to fight,
No sly man of business contriving some snare,
For a big-bellied bottle's the whole of my care.

The peer I don't envy, I give him his bow;
I scorn not the peasant, though ever so low;
But a club of good fellows, like those that are here,
And a bottle like this, are my glory and care.

Here passes the squire on his brother-his horse;
There centum per centum, the cit with his purse;
But see you the Crown, how it waves in the air,
There a big-bellied bottle still eases my care.
The wife of my bosom, alas! she did die;
For sweet consolation to church I did fly;
I found that old Solomon provéd it fair,
That a big-bellied bottle 's a cure for all care.

1 A marriage portion.-2 Hillocks.- Ewes,

I once was persuaded a venture to make;
A letter inform'd me that all was to wreck;
But the pursy old landlord just waddled up stairs,
With glorious bottle that ended my cares.

"Life's cares they are comforts". —a maxim laid down
By the bard, what d'ye call him, that wore the black gown;
And faith, I agree with the old prig to a hair;
For a big-bellied bottle 's a heaven of care.

A STANZA ADDED IN A MASON LODGE.

Then fill up a bumper and make it o'erflow,
And honors masonic prepare for to throw;
May every true brother of the compass and square
Have a big-bellied bottle when harass'd with care.

SONG OF DEATH.

"The circumstance," says Burns, "that gave rise to the following verses, was looking over, with a musical friend, M'Donald's Collection of Highland airs. I was struck with one, entitled 'Oran an Aoig,' or 'The song of Death,' to the measure of which I have adapted my stanzas."

Scene-A field of battle. Time of the day-Evening. The wounded and dying of the victorious army are supposed to join in the song.

FAREWELL, thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies,
Now gay with the bright setting sun!

Farewell, loves and friendships, ye dear, tender ties,
Our race of existence is run!

Thou grim king of terrors, thou life's gloomy foe,
Go, frighten the coward and slave!

Go, teach them to tremble, fell tyrant! but know,
No terrors hast thou for the brave!

Thou strik'st the poor peasant-he sinks in the dark,
Nor saves e'en the wreck of a name:

Thou strik'st the young hero-a glorious mark!
He falls in the blaze of his fame!

In the field of proud honor-our swords in our hands,
Our king and our country to save-

While victory shines on life's last ebbing sands-
Oh! who would not die with the brave?

1 Young's Night Thoughts.

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