I'm thinking wi' sic a braw fellow,
In poortith I might make a fen';
What care I in riches to wallow,
If I maunna marry Tam Glen?
In poortith I might make a fen';
What care I in riches to wallow,
If I maunna marry Tam Glen?
Robert Burns
The Thames flows proudly to the sea,
Where royal cities stately stand;
But sweeter flows the Nith, to me,
Where Comyns ance had high command:
When shall I see that honour'd land,
That winding stream I love so dear!
Must wayward Fortune's adverse hand
For ever, ever keep me here?
II.
How lovely, Nith, thy fruitful vales,
Where spreading hawthorns gaily bloom!
How sweetly wind thy sloping dales,
Where lambkins wanton thro' the broom!
Tho' wandering now, must be my doom,
Far from thy bonnie banks and braes,
May there my latest hours consume,
Amang the friends of early days!
* * * * *
XCIII.
MY HEART IS A-BREAKING, DEAR TITTIE.
Tune--"_Tam Glen. _"
[Tam Glen is the title of an old Scottish song, and older air: of the
former all that remains is a portion of the chorus. Burns when he
wrote it sent it to the Museum. ]
I.
My heart is a-breaking, dear Tittie!
Some counsel unto me come len',
To anger them a' is a pity,
But what will I do wi' Tam Glen?
II.
I'm thinking wi' sic a braw fellow,
In poortith I might make a fen';
What care I in riches to wallow,
If I maunna marry Tam Glen?
III.
There's Lowrie the laird o' Dumeller,
"Gude day to you, brute! " he comes ben:
He brags and he blaws o' his siller,
But when will he dance like Tam Glen?
IV.
My minnie does constantly deave me,
And bids me beware o' young men;
They flatter, she says, to deceive me,
But wha can think so o' Tam Glen?
V.
My daddie says, gin I'll forsake him,
He'll gie me guid hunder marks ten:
But, if it's ordain'd I maun take him,
O wha will I get but Tam Glen?
VI.
Yestreen at the Valentine's dealing,
My heart to my mou' gied a sten;
For thrice I drew ane without failing,
And thrice it was written--Tam Glen.
VII.
The last Halloween I was waukin
My droukit sark-sleeve, as ye ken;
His likeness cam up the house staukin,
And the very grey breeks o' Tam Glen!
VIII.
Come counsel, dear Tittie! don't tarry--
I'll gie you my bonnie black hen,
Gif ye will advise me to marry
The lad that I lo'e dearly, Tam Glen.
* * * * *
XCIV.