But why should I sigh,
The summer is nigh,
And the birds sing again from the tree!
The roses shall bloom,
And the soft breezes soon
Shall waft him again from the sea.
Thou bright star of night,
Oh! guide him aright:
From dangers my Jamie keep free;
Now of wealth I've a store,
He shall wander no more,
Ne'er again shall he sail on the sea.
A Lassie Fair.
[Captain Charles Gray, R, M.—Air, "For a' that, and a' that."]
A Lassie fair—the deil-may-care—
Ance lichtlied me and a' that,
And though I'm poor, you may be sure,
I didna like to claw that;
For a' that, and a' that,
I'm hearty still for a' that,
I gat the slight, I took it light,
And that's the way to thraw that.
Gif they should nick you wi' this trick,
Ne'er break your heart and a' that,
Just glower about, you'll find ane out,
Will ease your pain and a' that;
And a' that, and a' that,
Your sighs and sabs, and a' that,
Sae never dwine about ae quean,
There's plenty yet for a' that!
Nane but a fool spurns nature's rule,
To love and wed, and a' that;
Or gin a lass to him proves fause,
Tak's to his bed, and a' that;
And a' that, and a' that,
Nae doctor's drugs, and a' that,
Will ever prove a cure for love,
Like kiss again, and a' that!
Gif I can find ane to my mind,
My heart and hand, and a' that,
To her I'll gi'e, baith frank and free,
They're my delight for a' that;
For a' that, and a' that;
They're dear to me, for a' that,
I lo'e them still, and ever will,
Though ane did jilt, and a' that.
The Broomy Brae.
[By John Jack, Rutherglen.]
How dear to me yon broomy knowe,
By a' the places roun',
The birdies there ha'e blyther notes,
The burn a sweeter soun';
The hawthorn bush blooms richer far,
The flowers appear mair gay,
And nature wears a brighter hue,
On yonder broomy brae.
There first I tauld my artless love,
And met a kind return;
There first I preed my lassie's mou'
Beside the wimplin' burn:
And aft to that sequester'd spot,
At hour o' gloamin' grey,
I gang to meet my ain dear lass,
On yonder broomy brae.
Gloomy Winter.
[This fine song was written by Tannahill about the year 1808, and the music arranged by R. A. Smith from what was considered an old air, called "Lord Balgonie's Favourite." The editor, however, of Albyn's Anthology (Alexander Campbell) afterwards claimed the air as his own.]
Gloomy winter's now awa',
Saft the westlin' breezes blaw:
'Mang the birks o' Stanley-shaw
The mavis sings fu' cheerie, O.
Sweet the craw-flower's early bell
Decks Gleniffer's dewy dell,
Blooming like thy bonnie sel',
My young, my artless dearie, O.
