For though we brag nae routh o' braws,
Nor count wi' daintier folks to shine,
Her form mak's up for pictured wa's,
Her face gars ilka thing look fine.
And when around the fire at night
Our wee love-doos come todling ben,
There's something gars my heart beat light—
A-maist owre rich for mortal ken!
The skies without may smile or frown,
But still our cheerie hearth's the same;
Like birds that aye gang wi' the sun,
We've simmer a' the year at hame.
Lang may the rose bloom on her cheek,
The star o' joy light up her e'e;
Lang may the smile play on her lip,
And a' that's gude her portion be.
And when the sun o' life gaes down,
May gowden glories light her rest,
And endless joys, the earth aboon,
Mak' her the liappiest o' the blest.
My bonnie wife—the charm o' life,
She's mair than India's gowd to me,
Oh! blessings on my bonnie wife,
I'll like her till the day I dee.
The Lass o’ Arranteenie.
[Tannahill.—Music by R. A. Smith.—Arranteenie or Ardentinny is beautifully situated on the banks of Loch Long. The song was written by Tannahill from hearing a friend describe with rapture a young woman whom he had accidentally met there, in a Highland excursion.]
Far lone amang the Highland hills,
Midst nature's wildest grandeur,
By rocky dens and woody glens,
With weary steps I wander.
The langsome way, the darksome day,
The mountain mist sae rainy,
Are naught to me, when gaun to thee,
Sweet lass o' Arranteenie.
Yon mossy rose-bud down the howe,
Just opening fresh and bonny,
It blinks beneath the hazel bough,
And's scarcely seen by ony.
Sae sweet amidst her native hills,
Obscurely blooms my Jeanie,
Mair fair and gay than rosy May,
The flower o' Arranteenie. >
Now from the mountain's lofty brow,
I view the distant ocean,
There avarice guides the bounding prow,
Ambition courts promotion.
Let fortune pour her golden store,
Her laurell'd favours many,
Give me but this, my soul's first wish,
The lass o' Arranteenie.
She’s fair and fause.
[Burns contributed this song, which has much the character of an epigram, to Johnson's Museum. He also supplied the air, which he picked up from some country musician.]
She's fair and fause that causes my smart,
I lo'ed her meikle and lang;
She's broken her vow, she's brokert my heart,
And I may e'en gae hang.
A coof cam' in wi' routh o' gear,
And I ha'e tint my dearest dear;
But woman is but warld's gear,
Sae let the bonnie lass gang.
Whae'er ye be that woman love,
To this be never blind,
Nae ferlie 'tis tho' fickle she prove,
A woman has't by kind.
O woman, lovely woman fair!
An angel form's fa'n to thy share,
'Twad been o'er meikle to gien thee mair—
I mean an angel mind.
My Jamie.
[Music by A. Lee.]
Oh! sing from thy spray
Thy wild notes so gay,
Pretty warbler, oh sing from the tree;
Oft beneath thy rosy bower,
I've met at twilight hour,
My Jamie that's far o'er the sea.
Beside yon myrtle boughs,
We gave our mutual vows,
From sorrow our hearts then were free;
All pleasure now is gone,
While I murmur alone,
My Jamie is far o'er the sea.
