No More Learning

, Write to the Signet,
Edinburgh, and Colonel of the Crochallan corps--a club of wits, who
took that title at the time of raising the fencible regiments. "]


I.

O rattlin', roarin' Willie,
O, he held to the fair,
An' for to sell his fiddle,
An' buy some other ware;
But parting wi' his fiddle,
The saut tear blint his ee;
And rattlin', roarin' Willie,
Ye're welcome hame to me!

II.

O Willie, come sell your fiddle,
O sell your fiddle sae fine;
O Willie, come sell your fiddle,
And buy a pint o' wine!
If I should sell my fiddle,
The warl' would think I was mad;
For mony a rantin' day
My fiddle and I hae had.

III.

As I cam by Crochallan,
I cannily keekit ben--
Rattlin', roarin' Willie
Was sittin' at yon board en';
Sitting at yon board en',
And amang good companie;
Rattlin', roarin' Willie,
Ye're welcome hame to me I

* * * * *




LX.

BRAVING ANGRY WINTER'S STORMS.

Tune--"_Neil Gow's Lamentations for Abercairny. _"

["This song," says the poet, "I composed on one of the most
accomplished of women, Miss Peggy Chalmers that was, now Mrs. Lewis
Hay, of Forbes and Co. 's bank, Edinburgh. " She now lives at Pau, in
the south of France. ]


I.
Where, braving angry winter's storms,
The lofty Ochels rise,
Far in their shade my Peggy's charms
First blest my wondering eyes;
As one who by some savage stream,
A lonely gem surveys,
Astonish'd, doubly marks its beam,
With art's most polish'd blaze.

II.

Blest be the wild, sequester'd shade,
And blest the day and hour,
Where Peggy's charms I first survey'd,
When first I felt their power!
The tyrant Death, with grim control,
May seize my fleeting breath;
But tearing Peggy from my soul
Must be a stronger death.

* * * * *




LXI.

TIBBIE DUNBAR.

Tune--"_Johnny M'Gill. _"

[We owe the air of this song to one Johnny M'Gill, a fiddler of
Girvan, who bestowed his own name on it: and the song itself partly to
Burns and partly to some unknown minstrel. They are both in the
Museum. ]


I.

O, Wilt thou go wi' me,
Sweet Tibbie Dunbar?
O, wilt thou go wi' me,
Sweet Tibbie Dunbar?
Wilt thou ride on a horse,
Or be drawn in a car,
Or walk by my side,
O, sweet Tibbie Dunbar?

II.

I care na thy daddie,
His lands and his money,
I care na thy kindred,
Sae high and sae lordly:
But say thou wilt hae me
For better for waur--
And come in thy coatie,
Sweet Tibbie Dunbar!

* * * * *




LXII.