THE ROWAN TREE How fair wert thou in simmer time, wi' a' thy clusters white, How rich and gay thy autumn dress, wi' berries red and bright, We sat aneath thy spreading shade, the bairnies round thee ran; They pu'd thy bonnie berries red, and necklaces they strang. Oh, Rowan tree! On thy fair stem were mony names, which now nae mair I see; But they're engraven on my heart, forgot they ne'er can be; My mother! oh! I see her still, she smil'd our sports to see; Wi' little Jeanie on her lap, wi' Jamie at her knee! Oh, Rowan tree! Oh! there arose my father's prayer, in holy evening's calm, How sweet was then my mother's voice, in the Martyr's psalm; Now a' are gane! we meet nae mair aneath the Rowan tree, But hallowed thoughts around thee twine o' hame and infancy. Oh, Rowan tree! THERE GROWS A BONNIE BRIER BUSH XLIV THERE GROWS A BONNIE BRIER BUSH (LADY NAIRNE) THERE grows a bonnie brier bush in our kail yard, And white are the blossoms o't in our kail yard, Like wee bit cockauds, to deck our hieland lads, And the lassies lo'e the bonnie bush in our kail yard. An' it's hame, an' it's hame, to the north countrie, An' it's hame, an' it's hame, to the north countrie, Where my bonnie Jean is waiting for me, Wi' a heart kind an' true, in my ain countrie. But were they a' true that were far awa'? O' were they a' true that were far awa'? They drew up wi' glaikit Englishers at Carlisle ha', And forgot auld frien's that were far awa'. THERE GROWS A BONNIE BRIER BUSH Ye'll come nae mair, Jamie, where aft ye have been, Ye'll come nae mair, Jamie, to Atholl's green, O'er weel ye lo'ed the dancin' at Carlisle ha', And forgot the hieland hills, that were far awa'. I ne'er lo'ed a dance but on Atholl's green, I ne'er lo'ed a lassie, but my dorty Jean, Sair, sair against my will, did I bide sae lang awa', And my heart was aye in Atholl's green, at Carlisle ha'. The brier bush was bonnie ance in our kail yard, The brier bush was bonnie ance in our kail yard, A blast blew ower the hill, that ga'e Atholl's flowers a chill, An the bloom's blawn aff the bonnie bush in our kail yard. SAE FLAXEN WERE HER RINGLETS XLV SAE FLAXEN WERE HER RINGLETS (ROBERT BURNS) SAE flaxen were her ringlets, Her eyebrows of a darker hue, Twa laughing een o' bonnie blue, Wad make a wretch forget his woe; What pleasure, what treasure, Unto those rosy lips to grow; Such was my Chloris' bonnie face, When first her bonnie face I saw, An' aye my Chloris' dearest charm, She says she lo'es me best of a'. Like harmony her motion; Her pretty ankle is a spy Betraying fair proportion, Wad make a saint forget the sky. Sae warming, sae charming, Her faultless form and graceful air; Ilk feature-auld nature Declared that she could do nae mair. THE SKYLARK Hers are the willing chains o' love, Let others love the city, And gaudy show at sunny noon; Gi'e me the lonely valley, The dewy eve, and rising moon; Fair beaming, and streaming, Her silver lights the boughs amang; While falling, recalling, The amorous thrush concludes his sang: There, dearest Chloris, wilt thou rove By wimpling burn and leafy shaw, An' hear my vows o' truth and love, An' say thou lo'es me best of a'. XLVI THE SKYLARK (JAMES HOGG) BIRD of the wilderness, Blythesome and cumberless, Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea! Emblems of happiness, Blessed is thy dwelling-place, Oh! to abide in the desert with thee! |