SONG, Composed in August. Tune," I had a horse, I had nae mair.” I. Now westlin winds, and slaught'ring guns, Now waving grain, wide o'er the plain, And the moon shines bright, when I rove at night, IL The partridge loves the fruitful fells; III. Thus ev'ry kind their pleasure find, The savage and the tender; Some solitary wander; Avaunt, away! the cruel sway, Tyrannic man's dominion; IV. But, Peggy dear, the ev'ning's clear, The sky is blue, the fields in view Come let us stray our gladsome way, V. We'll gently walk, and sweetly talk, So dear can be as thou to me, Behind yon hills where Lugar* flows, II. The westlin wind blaws loud an' shill; The night's baith mirk and rainy, O; But I'll get my plaid an' out I'll steal, An' owre the hills to Nanie, O. My Nanie's charming, sweet, an' young; May ill befa' the flattering tongue Originally, Stinchar. IV. Her face is fair, her heart is true, V. A country lad is my degree, An' few there be that ken me, O; But what care I how few they be,I'm welcome aye to Nanie, O. VI. My riches a's my penny-fee, An' I maun guide it cannie, O; But warl's gear ne'er troubles me, My thoughts are a' my Nanie, O. VII. Our auld guidman delights to view VIII. Come weel, come woe, I care na by, Nae ither care in life have I, But live, an' love my Nanie, O. GREEN GROW THE RASHES. A FRAGMENT. CHORUS. Green grow the rashes, O; Green grow the rashes, O; The sweetest hours that e'er I spent I. There's nought but care on ev'ry han', 0: What signifies the life o' man, An' 'twere na for the lasses, O! The warly race may riches chase, III. But gie me a canny hour at e'en, Green grow, &c. IV. For you sae douse, ye sneer at this, He dearly lov'd the lasses, O. Green grow, &e. V. Auld nature swears, the lovely dears Green grow, &c. SONG. Tune, "Jockey's grey breeks." I. Again rejoicing nature sees Her robe assume its vernal hues, CHORUS". And maun I still on Meniet doat, II. In vain to me the cowslips blaw, In vain to me, in glen or shaw, And mayn I still, &c. III. The merry ploughboy cheers his team, But life to me's a weary dream. A dream of ane that never wauks. And maun I still, &c. IV. The wanton coot the water skims, The stately swan majestic swims, And every thing is blest but I. And maun I still, &c. This chorus is part of a song composed by a gentleman in Edinburgh, a particular friend of the author's. + Menie is the common abbreviation of Mari amne. |