The lee-lang night we watch'd the fauld,
Me and my faithfu' doggie;
We heard nought but the roaring linn,
Amang the braes sae scroggie;
But the houlet cry'd frae the castle wa',
The blitter frae the boggie,
The tod reply'd upon the hill,
I trembled for my Hoggie.
Me and my faithfu' doggie;
We heard nought but the roaring linn,
Amang the braes sae scroggie;
But the houlet cry'd frae the castle wa',
The blitter frae the boggie,
The tod reply'd upon the hill,
I trembled for my Hoggie.
Robert Forst
Howling tempests, o'er me rave!
Turbid torrents, wintry swelling,
Roaring by my lonely cave!
II.
Crystal streamlets gently flowing,
Busy haunts of base mankind,
Western breezes softly blowing,
Suit not my distracted mind.
III.
In the cause of Right engaged,
Wrongs injurious to redress,
Honour's war we strongly waged,
But the heavens denied success.
IV.
Ruin's wheel has driven o'er us,
Not a hope that dare attend,
The wild world is all before us--
But a world without a friend.
* * * * *
XLI.
MY HOGGIE.
Tune--"_What will I do gin my Hoggie die? _"
[Burns was struck with the pastoral wildness of this Liddesdale air,
and wrote these words to it for the Museum: the first line only is
old. ]
What will I do gin my Hoggie die?
My joy, my pride, my Hoggie!
My only beast, I had nae mae,
And vow but I was vogie!
The lee-lang night we watch'd the fauld,
Me and my faithfu' doggie;
We heard nought but the roaring linn,
Amang the braes sae scroggie;
But the houlet cry'd frae the castle wa',
The blitter frae the boggie,
The tod reply'd upon the hill,
I trembled for my Hoggie.
When day did daw, and cocks did craw,
The morning it was foggie;
An' unco tyke lap o'er the dyke,
And maist has kill'd my Hoggie.
* * * * *
XLII.
HER DADDIE FORBAD.
Tune--"_Jumpin' John. _"
[This is one of the old songs which Ritson accuses Burns of amending
for the Museum: little of it, however, is his, save a touch here and
there--but they are Burns's touches. ]
I.
Her daddie forbad, her minnie forbad;
Forbidden she wadna be:
She wadna trow't, the browst she brew'd
Wad taste sae bitterlie.
The lang lad they ca' jumpin' John
Beguiled the bonnie lassie,
The lang lad they ca' Jumpin' John
Beguiled the bonnie lassie.
II.
A cow and a cauf, a yowe and a hauf,
And thretty gude shillin's and three;
A vera gude tocher, a cotter-man's dochter,
The lass wi' the bonnie black e'e.
The lang lad they ca' Jumpin' John
Beguiled the bonnie lassie,
The lang lad they ca' Jumpin' John
Beguiled the bonnie lassie.
* * * * *
XLIII
UP IN THE MORNING EARLY
Tune--"_Cold blows the wind. _"
["The chorus of this song," says the poet, in his notes on the
Scottish Lyrics, "is old, the two stanzas are mine. " The air is
ancient, and was a favourite of Mary Stuart, the queen of William the
Third. ]
CHORUS.
