I've liv'd a life of sturt and strife; It burns my heart I must depart Sae rantingly, &c. Now farewel light, thou sunshine bright, And all beneath the sky! May coward shame distain his name, Sae rantingly, &c. SONG. HERE'S, a bottle and an honest friend! And comes not ay when sought, man. SONG. Ilk care and fear, when thou art near, When in my arms, wi' a' thy charms, And by thy e'en, sae bonie blue, SONG.* Tune-If he be a Butcher neat and trim. On Cessnock banks there lives a lass, And the glancin' of her sparklin' e'en. She's fresher than the morning dawn She's stately like yon youthful ash, That grows the cowslip braes between, And shoots its head above each bush; An' she's twa glancin' sparklin' e'en. Her This song was an early production... It was recovered by the Editor from the oral communication of a lady residing at Glasgow, whom the Bard in early life affectionately admired. She's spotless as the flow'ring thorn - th An' she's twa glancin' sparklin' e'en. Her looks are like the sportive lamb, Her hair is like the curling mist That shades the mountain side at e'en, Her forehead's like the show'ry bow, Her voice is like the ev'ning thrush That sings in Cessnock banks unseen, While his mate sits nestling in the bush; An' she's twa glancin' sparklin' e'en. Her lips are like the cherries ripe, That sunny walls from boreas screen, They tempt the taste and charm the sight; An' she's twa glancin' sparklin' e'en." Her Her teeth are like a flock of sheep," An' she's twa glancin' sparklin' e'en. Her breath is like the fragrant breeze That gently stirs the blossom'd bean, When Phoebus sinks behind the seas; An' she's twa glancin' sparklin' e'en. But it's not her air, her form, her face, WAE IS MY HEART. Wae is my heart, and the tear's in my e'e; And the sweet voice o' pity ne'er sounds in my ⚫ear. Love |