GIN YE MEET A BONNIE LASSIE

XIX

GIN YE MEET A BONNIE LASSIE

(ALLAN RAMSAY)

GIN ye meet a bonnie lassie,

Gi'e her a kiss and let her gae;
But if ye meet a dirty hizzie,
Fye, gar rub her ower wi' strae.
Be sure ye dinna quit the grip

Of ilka joy when ye are young,
Before auld age your vitals nip,

And lay ye twa-fauld ower a rung.

Sweet youth's a blythe and heartsome time:

Then, lads and lasses, while it's May,
Gae pou the gowan in its prime,
Before it wither and decay.

Watch the saft minutes o' delight,

When Jenny speaks beneath her breath, And kisses, layin' a' the wyte

On you if she kep ony skaith.

Haith, ye're ill-bred, she'll smilin' say,
Ye'll worry me, ye greedy rook;
Syne frae your arms she'll rin away,
And hide hersel' in some dark neuk.

LOCHABER NO MORE

Her lauch will lead ye to the place,
Where lies the happiness ye want;
And plainly tell ye to your face,
Nineteen nay-says are hauf a grant.

Now to her heavin' bosom cling,
And sweitly tuilyie for a kiss;
Frae her fair finger whup a ring,
As taiken o' a future bliss.
These benisons, I'm very sure,

Are of kind heaven's indulgent grant;
Then, surly carles, wheesht, forbear
To plague us wi' your whinin' cant!

XX

LOCHABER NO MORE

(ALLAN RAMSAY)

FAREWELL to Lochaber, farewell to my Jean, Where heartsome wi' thee I ha'e mony a day been;

To Lochaber no more, to Lochaber no more, We'll maybe return to Lochaber no more. These tears that I shed, they're a' for my dear, And no for the dangers attending on war, Though borne on rough seas to a far bloody shore,

Maybe to return to Lochaber no more.

LOCHABER NO MORE

Though hurricanes rise, though rise every wind,

No tempest can equal the storm in my mind; Though loudest of thunders on louder waves

roar,

There's naething like leavin' my love on the shore.

To leave thee behind me my heart is sair

pain'd;

But by ease that's inglorious no fame can be

gain'd:

And beauty and love's the reward of the brave;

And I maun deserve it before I can crave.

Then glory, my Jeanie, maun plead my

excuse;

Since honor commands me, how can I refuse? Without it, I ne'er can have merit for thee; And losing thy favor I'd better not be.

I gae then, my lass, to win honor and fame; And if I should chance to come glorious hame,

I'll bring a heart to thee with love running

o'er,

And then I'll leave thee and Lochaber no

more.

HAP ME WI' THY PETTICOAT

XXI

HAP ME WI' THY PETTICOAT

(ALLAN RAMSAY)

O BELL, thy looks ha'e kill'd my heart,
I pass the day in pain;

When night returns, I feel the smart,
And wish for thee in vain.

I'm starving cold, while thou art warm;
Have pity and incline,

And grant me for a hap that charming petticoat of thine.

My ravish'd fancy in amaze

Still wanders o'er thy charms,
Delusive dreams ten thousand ways
Present thee to my arms.

But waking, think what I endure,
While cruel thou decline

Those pleasures, which alone can cure
This panting breast of mine.

I faint, I fall, and wildly rove,

Because you still deny

The just reward that's due to love,
And let true passion die.

MARY MORISON

Oh! turn, and let compassion seize
That lovely breast of thine;
Thy petticoat could give me ease,
If thou and it were mine.

Sure heaven has fitted for delight
That beauteous form of thine,
And thou'rt too good its law to slight,
By hind'ring the design.

May all the powers of love agree
At length to make thee mine;
Or loose my chains and set me free
From every charm of thine.

XXII

MARY MORISON

(ROBERT BURNS)

Он, Mary, at thy window be,

It is the wish'd, 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, Could I the rich reward secure, The lovely Mary Morison.