Land o' the Leal.
[We can find no information regarding the authorship of this song. It appeared shortly after the death of Burns, whose dying thoughts it affects to personify. It is sung to the old tune of "Hey, tuttie, taittie."]
I'm wearing awa', Jean,
Like snaw when it is thaw, Jean;
I'm wearing awa', Jean,
To the land o' the leal.
There's nae sorrow there, Jean,
There's neither cauld nor care, Jean,
The day is aye fair, Jean,
In the land o' the leal.
Ye were aye leal and true, Jean,
Your task's ended now, Jean,
And I'll welcome you
To the land o' the leal.
Our bonnie bairn's there, Jean,
She was baith guid and fair, Jean,
And we grudged her right sair
To the land o' the leal.
Then dry that tearfu' e'e, Jean,
Wy soul langs to be free, Jean,
And angels wait on me
To the land o' the leal.
Now, fare ye weel, my ain Jean,
This warld's care is vain, Jean,
We'll meet and aye be fain
In the land o' the leal.
The Auld Cloak.
[The antiquity of this song is sufficiently proved from a fragment of it being quoted in Shakspeare's tragedy of Othello, published in 1611. Bishop Percy gives an English version of the song in his Reliques of Ancient Poetry, admitting, at the same time, that the song is originally Scotch. The following is the Scottish version, which appears in Ramsay's Tea-Table Miscellany.]
In winter, when the rain rain'd cauld,
And frost and snaw on ilka hill,
And Boreas, wi' his blasts sae bauld,
Was threat'nin' a' our kye to kill:
Then Bell, my wife, who lo'es nae strife,
She said to me richt hastilie,
Get up, gudeman, save Crummie's life,
And tak' your auld cloak about ye.
My Crummie is a usefu' cow,
And she is come of a good kin';
Aft has she wet the bairns's mou',
And I am laith that she should tyne;
Get up, gudeman, it is fu' time,
The sun shines frae the lift sae hie;
Sloth never made a gracious end;
Gae, tak' your auld cloak about ye.
My cloak was ance a gude grey cloak,
When it was fitting for my wear;
But now it's scantly worth a groat,
For I have worn't this thretty year:
Let's spend the gear that we ha'e won,
We little ken the day we'll die;
Then I'll be proud, since I have sworn
To ha'e a new cloak about me.
In days when our King Robert rang,
His trews they cost but half a croun;
He said they were a groat ower dear,
And ca'd the tailor thief and loon:
He was the king that wore a croun,
And thou the man of laigh degree:
It's pride puts a' the country doun;
Sae tak' your auld cloak about ye.
Ilka land has its ain lauch,
Ilk kind o' corn has its ain hool;
I think the world is a' gane wrang,
When ilka wife her man wad rule:
Do ye no see Rob, Jock, and Hab,
As they are girded gallantlie,
While I sit huyklin i' the aese?—
I'll ha'e a new cloak about me.
Gudeman, I wat its thretty year
Sin' we did ane anither ken;
And we ha'e had atween us twa
Of lads and bonnie lasses ten:
Now they are women grown and men,
I wish and pray weel may they be;
If you would prove a gude husband,
E'en tak' your auld cloak about ye.
Bell, my wife, she lo'es nae strife,
But she would guide me, if she can:
And to maintain an easy life,
