Awa, thou
flaunting
god o' day!
Robert Forst
II.
Their capon craws and queer ha ha's,
They made our lugs grow eerie, O;
The hungry bike did scrape and pike,
'Till we were wae and weary, O;
But a royal ghaist wha ance was cas'd
A prisoner aughteen year awa,
He fir'd a fiddler in the north
That dang them tapsalteerie, O.
* * * * *
CLXXVII.
THE GOWDEN LOCKS OF ANNA.
Tune--"_Banks of Banna. _"
["Anne with the golden locks," one of the attendant maidens in Burns's
Howff, in Dumfries, was very fair and very tractable, and, as may be
surmised from the song, had other pretty ways to render herself
agreeable to the customers than the serving of wine. Burns recommended
this song to Thomson; and one of his editors makes him say, "I think
this is one of the best love-songs I ever composed," but these are not
the words of Burns; this contradiction is made openly, lest it should
be thought that the bard had the bad taste to prefer this strain to
dozens of others more simple, more impassioned, and more natural. ]
I.
Yestreen I had a pint o' wine,
A place where body saw na';
Yestreen lay on this breast o' mine
The gowden locks of Anna.
The hungry Jew in wilderness
Rejoicing o'er his manna,
Was naething to my hinny bliss
Upon the lips of Anna.
II.
Ye monarchs tak the east and west,
Frae Indus to Savannah!
Gie me within my straining grasp
The melting form of Anna.
There I'll despise imperial charms,
An empress or sultana,
While dying raptures in her arms
I give and take with Anna!
III.
Awa, thou flaunting god o' day!
Awa, thou pale Diana!
Ilk star gae hide thy twinkling ray,
When I'm to meet my Anna.
Come, in thy raven plumage, night!
Sun, moon, and stars withdrawn a';
And bring an angel pen to write
My transports wi' my Anna!
IV.
The kirk an' state may join and tell--
To do sic things I maunna:
The kirk and state may gang to hell,
And I'll gae to my Anna.
She is the sunshine of my e'e,
To live but her I canna:
Had I on earth but wishes three,
The first should be my Anna.
* * * * *
CLXXVIII.
MY AIN KIND DEARIE O.
[This is the first song composed by Burns for the national collection
of Thomson: it was written in October, 1792. "On reading over the
Lea-rig," he says, "I immediately set about trying my hand on it, and,
after all, I could make nothing more of it than the following. " The
first and second verses were only sent: Burns added the third and last
verse in December. ]
I.
When o'er the hill the eastern star
Tells bughtin-time is near, my jo;
And owsen frae the furrow'd field
Return sae dowf and weary, O!
Down by the burn, where scented birks[137]
Wi' dew are hanging clear, my jo;
I'll meet thee on the lea-rig,
My ain kind dearie O!
