my heart it gae a stoun.
to the weaver's, c.
the moon was sinking in the west,
wi' visage pale and wan,
as my bonie, westlin weaver lad
convoy'd me thro' the glen.
to the weaver's, c.
but what was said, or what was done,
shame fa' me gin i tell;
but oh! i fear the kintra soon
will ken as weel's myself!
to the weaver's, c.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns mphersons farewell m'pherson's farewell
tune—“m'pherson's rant.”
farewell, ye dungeons dark and strong,
the wretch's destinie!
m'pherson's time will not be long
on yonder gallows-tree.
chorus.—sae rantingly, sae wantonly,
sae dauntingly gaed he;
he play'd a spring, and danc'd it round,
below the gallows-tree.
o, what is death but parting breath?
on many a bloody plain
i've dared his face, and in this place
i scorn him yet again!
sae rantingly, c.
untie these bands from off my hands,
and bring me to my sword;
and there's no a man in all scotland
but i'll brave him at a word.
sae rantingly, c.
i've liv'd a life of sturt and strife;
i die by treacherie:
it burns my heart i must depart,
and not avenged be.
sae rantingly, c.
now farewell light, thou sunshine bright,
and all beneath the sky!
may coward shame distain his name,
the wretch that dares not die!
sae rantingly, c.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns stay my charmer stay my charmer
tune—“an gille dubh ciar-dhubh.”
stay my charmer, can you leave me?
cruel, cruel to deceive me;
well you know how much you grieve me;
cruel charmer, can you go!
cruel charmer, can you go!
by my love so ill-requited,
by the faith you fondly plighted,
by the pangs of lovers slighted,
do not, do not liave me so!
do not, do not leave me so!
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns song—my hoggie song—my hoggie
what will i do gin my hoggie die?
my joy, my pride, my hoggie!
my only beast, i had nae mae,
and vow but i was vogie!
the lee-lang night we watch'd the fauld,
me and my faithfu' doggie;
we heard nocht but the roaring linn,
amang the braes sae scroggie.
but the houlet cry'd frau the castle wa',
the blitter frae the boggie;
the tod reply'd upon the hill,
i trembled for my hoggie.
when day did daw, and cocks did craw,
the morning it was foggie;
an unco tyke, lap o'er the dyke,
and maist has kill'd my hoggie!
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns raving winds around her blowing raving winds around her blowing
tune—“m'grigor of roro's lament.”
iposed these verses on miss isabella m'leod of raza, alluding to her feelings on the death of her sister, and the still more melancholy death of her sister's husband, the late earl of loudoun, who shot himself out of sheer heart-break at some mortifications he suffered, owing to the deranged state of his finances.—r.b., 1971.
raving winds around her blowing,
yellow leaves the woodlands strowing,
by a river hoarsely roaring,
isabella stray'd deploring—
“farewell, hours that late did measure
sunshine days of joy and pleasure;
hail, thou gloomy night of sorrow,
cheerless night that knows no morrow!
“o'er the past too fondly wandering,
on the hopeless future pondering;
chilly grief my life-blood freezes,
fell despair my fancy seizes.
“life, thou soul of every blessing,
load to misery most distressing,
gladly how would i resign thee,
and to dark oblivion join thee!”
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns up in the morning early up in the morning early
cauld blaws the wind frae east to west,
the drift is driving sairly;
sae loud and shill's i hear the blast—
i'm sure it's winter fairly.
chorus.—up in the morning's no for me,
up in the morning early;
when a' the hills are covered wi' snaw,
i'm sure it's winter fairly.
the birds sit chittering in the thorn,
a' day they fare but sparely;
and lang's the night frae e'en to morn—
i'm sure it's winter fairly.
up in the morning's, c.
how long and dreary is the night
how long and dreary is the night,
when i am frae my dearie!
i sleepless lie frae e'en to morn,
tho' i were ne'er so weary:
i sleepless lie frae e'en to morn,
tho' i were ne'er sae weary!
when i think on the happy days
i spent wi' you my dearie:
and now what lands between us lie,
how can i be but eerie!
and now what lands between us lie,
how can i be but eerie!
how slow ye move, ye heavy hours,
as ye were wae and weary!
it wasna sae ye glinted by,
when i was wi' my dearie!
it wasna sae ye glinted by,
when i was wi' my dearie!
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns hey, the dusty miller hey, the dusty miller
hey, the dusty miller,
and his dusty coat,
he will win a shilling,
or he spend a groat:
dusty was the coat,
dusty was the colour,
dusty was the kiss
that i gat frae the miller.
hey, the dusty miller,
and his dusty sack;
leeze me on the calling
fills the dusty peck:
fills the dusty peck,
brings the dusty siller;
i wad gie my coatie
for the dusty miller.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns duncan davison duncan davison
there was a lass, they ca'd her meg,
and she held o'er the moors to spin;
there was a lad that follow'd her,
they ca'd him duncan davison.
the moor was dreigh, and meg was skeigh,
her favour duncan could na win;
for wi' the rock she wad him knock,
and aye she shook the temper-pin.
as o'er the moor they lightly foor,
a burn was clear, a glen was green,
upon the banks they eas'd their shanks,
and aye she set the wheel between:
but duncan swoor a haly aith,
that meg should be a bride the morn;
then meg took up her spinning-graith,
and flang them a' out o'er the burn.
we will big a wee, wee house,
and we will live like king and queen;
sae blythe and merry's we will be,
when ye set by the wheel at e'en.
a man may drink, and no be drunk;
a man may fight, and no be slain;
a man may kiss a bonie lass,
and aye be wee back again!
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns the lad they cajumpin john the lad they ca'jumpin john
her daddie forbad, her minnie forbad
forbidden she wadna be:
she wadna trow't the browst she brew'd,
wad taste sae bitterlie.
chorus.—the lang lad they ca'jumpin john
beguil'd the bonie lassie,
the lang lad they ca'jumpin john
beguil'd the bonie lassie.
a cow and a cauf, a yowe and a hauf,
and thretty gude shillin's and three;
a vera gude tocher, a cotter-man's dochter,
the lass wi' the bonie black e'e.
the lang lad, c.
Poems and Songs of Robert Burns talk of him thats far awa talk of him that's far awa
musing on the roaring ocean,
which divides my love and me;
wearying heav'n in warm devotion,
for his weal where'er he be.
hope and fear's alternate billow
yielding late to nature's law,
whispering spirits round my pillow,
talk of him that's far awa.
ye whom sorrow never wounded,
ye who never shed a tear,
care—untroubled, joy—surrounded,
gaudy day to you is dear.
gentle night, do thou befriend me,
downy sleep, the curtain draw;
spirits kind, again attend me,
talk of him that's far awa!