A Song, on the Grand Illumination in Glasgow/The Bush Aboon Traquire

by Robert Crawford

For other versions of this work, see The Bush aboon Traquair.

The BUSH ABOON TRAQUIRE.

Hear me ye nymphs and every swain,
I’ll tell how Peggy grieves me,
Though this I languish this complain,
alass she never believes me!
My vows and sighs like silent air,
unheaded never move her,
At the bonny bush aboon Traquire,
'twas there I first did love her.

That day she smil’d and made me glad
no maid seem’d ever kinder,
I thought myself the luckiest lad,
so sweetly there to find her:
I try’d to soothe my am'rous flame,
in words that I thought tender,
I more then pass'd I’m not to blame,
I meant not to offend her:

Yet now she scornful flees the plain,
the fields we then frequented
Where’er she meets she shews disdain,
she looks as ne’er aquainted
The bonny bush bloom’d fair in May,
its sweets I’ll ay remember,
But now her sweets makes it decay,
it fades as in December.

Ye rural powers who hear my strains,
why thus should Peggy grieve me!
Oh! make her partner in my pains,
then ’ether smiles relieve me:
If not, my love will turn despair,
my passion no more tender;
I’ll leave the Bush aboon Traquire,
to lonely woods I’ll wander.