No More Learning

He claw'd her wi' the ripplin-kame,
And blue and bluidy bruised her;
When sic a husband was frae hame,
What wife but had excused her?

IV.

I dighted ay her een sae blue,
And bann'd the cruel randy;
And weel I wat her willing mou',
Was e'en like sugar-candy.
A gloamin-shot it was I wot,
I lighted on the Monday;
But I cam through the Tysday's dew,
To wanton Willie's brandy.

* * * * *




CLII.

COMING THROUGH THE RYE.

Tune--"_Coming through the rye. _"

[The poet in this song removed some of the coarse chaff, from the old
chant, and fitted it for the Museum, when it was first printed. ]


I.

Coming through the rye, poor body,
Coming through the rye,
She draiglet a' her petticoatie,
Coming through the rye.
Jenny's a' wat, poor body,
Jenny's seldom dry;
She draiglet a' her petticoatie,
Coming through the rye.

II.

Gin a body meet a body--
Coming through the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body--
Need a body cry?

III.

Gin a body meet a body
Coming through the glen,
Gin a body kiss a body--
Need the world ken?
Jenny's a' wat, poor body;
Jenny's seldom dry;
She draiglet a' her petticoatie,
Coming through the rye.

* * * * *




CLIII.

YOUNG JAMIE, PRIDE OF A' THE PLAIN.

Tune--"_The carlin o' the glen. _"

[Sent to the Museum by Burns in his own handwriting: part only is
thought to be his]


I.

Young Jamie, pride of a' the plain,
Sae gallant and sae gay a swain;
Thro' a' our lasses he did rove,
And reign'd resistless king of love:
But now wi' sighs and starting tears,
He strays amang the woods and briers;
Or in the glens and rocky caves
His sad complaining dowie raves.

II.

I wha sae late did range and rove,
And chang'd with every moon my love,
I little thought the time was near,
Repentance I should buy sae dear:
The slighted maids my torment see,
And laugh at a' the pangs I dree;
While she, my cruel, scornfu' fair,
Forbids me e'er to see her mair!

* * * * *




CLIV.

OUT OVER THE FORTH.

Tune--"_Charlie Gordon's welcome hame. _"

[In one of his letters to Cunningham, dated 11th March 1791, Burns
quoted the four last lines of this tender and gentle lyric, and
inquires how he likes them. ]


I.

Out over the Forth I look to the north,
But what is the north and its Highlands to me?
The south nor the east gie ease to my breast,
The far foreign land, or the wild rolling sea.

II.