"_
[A long and wearisome ditty, called "The Highland Lad and Lowland
Lassie," which Burns compressed into these stanzas, for Johnson's
Museum.
[A long and wearisome ditty, called "The Highland Lad and Lowland
Lassie," which Burns compressed into these stanzas, for Johnson's
Museum.
Robert Burns
Tune--_"Ye're welcome, Charlie Stewart. "_
[The poet's eye was on Polly Stewart, but his mind seems to have been
with Charlie Stewart, and the Jacobite ballads, when he penned these
words;--they are in the Museum. ]
I.
O lovely Polly Stewart!
O charming Polly Stewart!
There's not a flower that blooms in May
That's half so fair as thou art.
The flower it blaws, it fades and fa's,
And art can ne'er renew it;
But worth and truth eternal youth
Will give to Polly Stewart.
II.
May he whose arms shall fauld thy charms
Possess a leal and true heart;
To him be given to ken the heaven
He grasps in Polly Stewart.
O lovely Polly Stewart!
O charming Polly Stewart!
There's ne'er a flower that blooms in May
That's half so sweet as thou art.
* * * * *
CLXV.
THE HIGHLAND LADDIE.
Tune--_"If thou'lt play me fair play.
"_
[A long and wearisome ditty, called "The Highland Lad and Lowland
Lassie," which Burns compressed into these stanzas, for Johnson's
Museum. ]
I.
The bonniest lad that e'er I saw,
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie,
Wore a plaid, and was fu' braw,
Bonnie Highland laddie.
On his head a bonnet blue,
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie;
His royal heart was firm and true,
Bonnie Highland laddie.
II.
Trumpets sound, and cannons roar,
Bonnie lassie; Lowland lassie;
And a' the hills wi' echoes roar,
Bonnie Lowland lassie.
Glory, honour, now invite,
Bonnie lassie, Lowland lassie,
For freedom and my king to fight,
Bonnie Lowland lassie.
III.
The sun a backward course shall take,
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie,
Ere aught thy manly courage shake,
Bonnie Highland laddie.
Go, for yourself procure renown,
Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie;
And for your lawful king, his crown,
Bonnie Highland laddie.
* * * * *
CLXVI.
ANNA, THY CHARMS.
Tune--"_Bonnie Mary. _"
[The heroine of this short, sweet song is unknown: it was inserted in
the third edition of his Poems. ]
Anna, thy charms my bosom fire,
And waste my soul with care;
But ah! how bootless to admire,
When fated to despair!