The circle of Friendship.
[Air, "The kail brose of auld Scotland."]
The cauld blasts o' winter blaw chill o'er the plain,
And nature grows pale 'neath the tyrant's domain;
We'll seek our lov'd cottage, and leave the bleak scene;
For there's nought like the circle of friendship
To brighten life's path with a smile.
The heart leaps wi' joy, by the canty fireside,
Surrounded by faces whose faith has been tried,
Where kind hospitality loves to preside;
For there's nought like the circle of friendship
To brighten life's path with a smile.
Tho' our table is spread with no Epicure's fare;
Tho' our wealth is but sma', we shall never despair,
While we just ha'e a plack wi' a neighbour to share;
Still we'll meet in the circle of friendship
And brighten life's path with a smile.
The nabob surrounded with splendour may pine;
For friends are but scanty where sycophants shine;—
Here the juice of the malt is as sweet as the vine;
And there's nought like the circle of friendship
To brighten life's path with a smile.
Let statesmen delight in the court's vain parade,
Where each plays for self in the great masquerade.—
Our pleasures tho' humble, we trust are repaid;
For there's nought like the circle of friendship
To brighten life's path with a smile.
While the coxcomb is lest in the butterfly throng,
Where the dance to the music is floating along;
We enjoy our bit crack, wi' a canty Scots song;
For there's nought like the circle of friendship
To brighten life's path with a smile.
Then blest be the faces that welcom'd me here,
Wherever I wander they'll ever be dear,—
While our glasses, at parting, will brim with a tear;
For there's nought like the circle of friendship
To brighten life's path with a smile.
The weel-tocher’d Lass
[From Ramsay's Tea-Table Miscellany. Tune, "Kirk wad let me be."]
I was once a weel-tocher'd lass,
My mither left dollars to me,
But now I'm brought to a poor pass,
My step-dame has gart them flee.
My father, he's aften frae hame,
And she plays the deil with his gear;
She neither has lawtith nor shame,
And keeps the haill house in a steer.
She's barmy-faced, thriftless, and bauld,
And gars me aft fret and repine;
While hungry, half-naked, and cauld,
I see her destroy what's mine.
But soon I might hope a revenge,
And soon of my sorrows be free;
My poortith to plenty wad change,
If she were hung up on a tree.
Quoth Ringan, wha lang time had loo'd
This bonnie lass tenderlie,
I'll tak' thee, sweet May, in thy snood,
Gif thou wilt gae hame with me.
'Tis only yoursel' that I want;
Your kindness is better to me
Than a' that your stepmother, scant
Of grace, now has taken frae thee.
I'm but a young farmer, it's true
And ye are the sprout of a laird;
But I have milk-cattle enow,
And ruth of good rucks in my yard.
Ye shall have naething to fash ye,
Sax servants shall jouk to thee:
Then kilt up thy coats my lassie,
And gae thy ways hame with me.
The maiden her reason employ'd,
Not thinking the offer amiss,
Consented, while Ringan, o'erjoy'd,
Received her with mony a kiss.
And now she sits blythely singin',
And joking her drunken stepdame,
Delighted with her dear Ringan,
That makes her goodwife at hame.
