No More Learning

Craigieburn Wood

Sweet fa's the eve on Craigieburn,
And blythe awakes the morrow;
But a' the pride o' Spring's return
Can yield me nocht but sorrow.

I see the flowers and spreading trees,
I hear the wild birds singing;
But what a weary wight can please,
And Care his bosom wringing!

Fain, fain would I my griefs impart,
Yet dare na for your anger;
But secret love will break my heart,
If I conceal it langer.

If thou refuse to pity me,
If thou shalt love another,
When yon green leaves fade frae the tree,
Around my grave they'll wither.




Versicles of 1795




The Solemn League And Covenant

The Solemn League and Covenant
Now brings a smile, now brings a tear;
But sacred Freedom, too, was theirs:
If thou'rt a slave, indulge thy sneer.

Compliments Of John Syme Of Ryedale




Lines sent with a Present of a Dozen of Porter.

O had the malt thy strength of mind,
Or hops the flavour of thy wit,
'Twere drink for first of human kind,
A gift that e'en for Syme were fit.

Jerusalem Tavern, Dumfries.




Inscription On A Goblet

There's Death in the cup, so beware!
Nay, more--there is danger in touching;
But who can avoid the fell snare,
The man and his wine's so bewitching!




Apology For Declining An Invitation To Dine

No more of your guests, be they titled or not,
And cookery the first in the nation;
Who is proof to thy personal converse and wit,
Is proof to all other temptation.




Epitaph For Mr. Gabriel Richardson

Here Brewer Gabriel's fire's extinct,
And empty all his barrels:
He's blest--if, as he brew'd, he drink,
In upright, honest morals.




Epigram On Mr. James Gracie

Gracie, thou art a man of worth,
O be thou Dean for ever!
May he be damned to hell henceforth,
Who fauts thy weight or measure!




Bonie Peg-a-Ramsay

Cauld is the e'enin blast,
O' Boreas o'er the pool,
An' dawin' it is dreary,
When birks are bare at Yule.

Cauld blaws the e'enin blast,
When bitter bites the frost,
And, in the mirk and dreary drift,
The hills and glens are lost:

Ne'er sae murky blew the night
That drifted o'er the hill,
But bonie Peg-a-Ramsay
Gat grist to her mill.




Inscription At Friars' Carse Hermitage

To the Memory of Robert Riddell.


To Riddell, much lamented man,
This ivied cot was dear;
Wandr'er, dost value matchless worth?
This ivied cot revere.




There Was A Bonie Lass

There was a bonie lass, and a bonie, bonie lass,
And she lo'ed her bonie laddie dear;
Till War's loud alarms tore her laddie frae her arms,
Wi' mony a sigh and tear.
Over sea, over shore, where the cannons loudly roar,
He still was a stranger to fear;
And nocht could him quail, or his bosom assail,
But the bonie lass he lo'ed sae dear.




Wee Willie Gray

Tune--"Wee Totum Fogg. "


Wee Willie Gray, and his leather wallet,
Peel a willow wand to be him boots and jacket;
The rose upon the breir will be him trews an' doublet,
The rose upon the breir will be him trews an' doublet,
Wee Willie Gray, and his leather wallet,
Twice a lily-flower will be him sark and cravat;
Feathers of a flee wad feather up his bonnet,
Feathers of a flee wad feather up his bonnet.




O Aye My Wife She Dang Me

Chorus--O aye my wife she dang me,
An' aft my wife she bang'd me,
If ye gie a woman a' her will,
Gude faith! she'll soon o'er-gang ye.

On peace an' rest my mind was bent,
And, fool I was! I married;
But never honest man's intent
Sane cursedly miscarried.
O aye my wife, &c.

Some sairie comfort at the last,
When a' thir days are done, man,
My pains o' hell on earth is past,
I'm sure o' bliss aboon, man,
O aye my wife, &c.