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THE GALLANT WEAVER.
Words by BURNS. Air--"The Weaver's March."
WHERE Cart rins rowin' to the sea,
By mony a flow'r and spreading tree,
There lives a lad, the lad for me,
He is a gallant weaver.
Oh, I had wooers eight or nine,
They gied me rings and ribbons fine;
And I was fear'd my heart would tine,
And I gied it to the weaver.
My daddie sign'd my tocher-band,
To gie the lad that has the land;
But to my heart I'll add my hand,
And gie it to the weaver.
While birds rejoice in leafy bowers,
While bees delight in op'ning flow'rs,
While corn grows green in summer showers,
I'll love my gallant weaver.
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HAPPY FRIEN'SHIP.
Words by BURNS. Air_" Willie was a wanton way?
Here around the ingle bleezing,
Wha sae happy and sae free?
Tho' the northern wind blaws freezing,
Frien'ship warms baith you and me.
Happy we are a' thegíther,
Happy we'll be yin an' a',
Time shall see us a' the blyther,
Ere we rise to gang awa'.
See the miser o'er his treasure
Gloating wi' a greedy e'e ;
Can he feel the glow o' pleasure
That around us here we see?
Happy we are a' thegither, &c.
Can the peer in silk and ermine,
Ca' his conscience half his own?
His claes are spun and edged wi' vermin,
Tho' he stan' afore a throne !
Happy we are a' thegither, &c.
Thus then let us a' be tossing
Aff our stoups o' gen'rous flame;
An', while roun' the board 'tis passing,
Raise a sang in frien'ship's name.
Happy we are a' thegither, &c.
