No More Learning

There's Jockie and the hav'rel Jenny,
Some devil seize them in a hurry,
And waft them in th' infernal wherry,
Straught through the lake,
And gie their hides a noble curry,
Wi' oil of aik.

As for the lass, lascivious body,
She's had mischief enough already,
Weel stang'd by market, mill, and smiddie,
She's suffer'd sair;
But may she wintle in a widdie,
If she wh--re mair.

* * * * *




SONGS AND BALLADS.


[Illustration: HANDSOME NELL. ]

I.

HANDSOME NELL.

Tune. --"_I am a man unmarried. "_

["This composition," says Burns in his "Common-place Book," "was the
first of my performances, and done at an early period in life, when my
heart glowed with honest, warm simplicity; unacquainted and
uncorrupted with the ways of a wicked world. The subject of it was a
young girl who really deserved all the praises I have bestowed on
her. "]


I.

O once I lov'd a bonnie lass,
Ay, and I love her still;
And whilst that honour warms my breast,
I'll love my handsome Nell.

II.

As bonnie lasses I hae seen,
And mony full as braw;
But for a modest gracefu' mien
The like I never saw.

III.
A bonnie lass, I will confess,
Is pleasant to the e'e,
But without some better qualities
She's no a lass for me.

IV.

But Nelly's looks are blithe and sweet,
And what is best of a',
Her reputation is complete,
And fair without a flaw.

V.

She dresses ay sae clean and neat,
Both decent and genteel:
And then there's something in her gait
Gars ony dress look weel.

VI.

A gaudy dress and gentle air
May slightly touch the heart;
But it's innocence and modesty
That polishes the dart.

VII.

'Tis this in Nelly pleases me,
'Tis this enchants my soul;
For absolutely in my breast
She reigns without control

* * * * *




II.

LUCKLESS FORTUNE.

[Those lines, as Burns informs us, were written to a tune of his own
composing, consisting of three parts, and the words were the echo of
the air. ]


O raging fortune's withering blast
Has laid my leaf full low, O!
O raging fortune's withering blast
Has laid my leaf full low, O!
My stem was fair, my bud was green,
My blossom sweet did blow, O;
The dew fell fresh, the sun rose mild,
And made my branches grow, O.
But luckless fortune's northern storms
Laid a' my blossoms low, O;
But luckless fortune's northern storms
Laid a' my blossoms low, O.

* * * * *




III.