_To a
Highland
Air.
Robert Forst
My auld auntie Katie upon me takes pity,
I'll do my endeavour to follow her plan;
I'll cross him, and wrack him, until I heart-break him,
And then his auld brass will buy me a new pan.
I'll cross him, and wrack him, until I heart-break him,
And then his auld brass will buy me a new pan.
* * * * *
CXV.
THE BONNIE WEE THING.
Tune--"_Bonnie wee thing. _"
["Composed," says the poet, "on my little idol, the charming, lovely
Davies. "]
I.
Bonnie wee thing, cannie wee thing,
Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine,
I wad wear thee in my bosom,
Lest my jewel I should tine.
Wishfully I look and languish
In that bonnie face o' thine;
And my heart it stounds wi' anguish,
Lest my wee thing be na mine.
II.
Wit, and grace, and love, and beauty
In ae constellation shine;
To adore thee is my duty,
Goddess o' this soul o' mine!
Bonnie wee thing, cannie wee thing.
Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine,
I wad wear thee in my bosom,
Lest my jewel I should tine!
* * * * *
CXVI.
THE TITHER MOON.
_To a Highland Air. _
["The tune of this song," says Burns, "is originally from the
Highlands. I have heard a Gaelic song to it, which was not by any
means a lady's song. " "It occurs," says Sir Harris Nicolas, "in the
Museum, without the name of Burns. " It was sent in the poet's own
handwriting to Johnson, and is believed to be his composition. ]
I.
The tither morn,
When I forlorn,
Aneath an oak sat moaning,
I did na trow
I'd see my Jo,
Beside me, gain the gloaming.
But he sae trig,
Lap o'er the rig.
And dawtingly did cheer me,
When I, what reck,
Did least expec',
To see my lad so near me.
II.
His bonnet he,
A thought ajee,
Cock'd sprush when first he clasp'd me;
And I, I wat,
Wi' fainness grat,
While in his grips be press'd me.
Deil tak' the war!
I late and air
Hae wish'd since Jock departed;
But now as glad
I'm wi' my lad,
As short syne broken-hearted.
III.
Fu' aft at e'en
Wi' dancing keen,
When a' were blythe and merry,
I car'd na by,
Sae sad was I
In absence o' my dearie.
But praise be blest,
My mind's at rest,
I'm happy wi' my Johnny:
At kirk and fair,
I'se ay be there,
And be as canty's ony.
