Though bardies a', in former times,
Ha'e stain'd my sang, wae worth their rhymes!
They had but little mense, wi' crimes,
To blast my Daintie Davie.
The rankest weeds the garden spoil,
When labour tak's the play a while;
The lamp gaes out for want o' oil,
And sae it fered wi' Davie.
O Daintie Davie, &c.
There's ne'er a bar but what's complete,
While ilka note is aye so sweet,
That auld and young get to their feet,
When they hear Daintie Davie.
Until the latest hour of time,
When music a' her power shall tine,
Each hill, an' dale, an' grove, shall ring
Wi' bonnie Daintie Davie.
O, Daintie Davie, &c.
Lassie wi’ the raven locks.
[A. Fletcher, schoolmaster, Dunoon, Argyleshire.—Tune, "Lassie wi' the lint-white locks."]
Lassie wi' the raven locks,
Charming lassie, Highland lassie;
Gladly wad I tend thy flocks,
Bonnie Highland Mary, O.
Where Echaig Joins the briny tide,
And Cowal's hills spread far and wide,
Alang the winding banks o' Clyde,
I met wi' Highland Mary, O.
Lassie wi", &c.
Her foot sae neatly mark'd the sand,
An' gently waved her lily hand,
As, slow, she traced the sea-beat strand,
The lovely Highland Mary, O.
Lassie wi', &c.
How mildly glanced her hazel e'e!
Like sunbeams on the dewy lea:—
It, stowlins, wiled the heart frae me,
The witching smile of Mary, O.
Lassie wi', &c.
Her eye-brows of a jetty-hue;
Her lips "like rose-buds moist wi' dew;"
A sweeter face ne'er bless'd my view
Than youthfu' Highland Mary's, O.
Lassie wi', &c.
Though pure the flowers that blaw unseen
Amang her native woodlands green,
Yet purer far's the heart, I ween,
Of artless Highland Mary, O.
Lassie wi', &c.
Let others range frae isle to isle,
Where never-ending simmers smile:—
Mair dear the groves o' Ballochyle,
That shelter Highland Mary, O.
Lassie wi', &c.
I'd cheerfu' toil frae dawn o' day,
O'er yon lone glen and ferny brae,
Could I but get, by gloaming grey,
Ae blythsome blink o' Mary, O.
Lassie wi', &c.
O may nae cloud the sun o'ercast,
To chill this floweret's snawie breast!
Nae reptile's breath untimely blast
The op'ning bloom of Mary,!
Lassie wi', &c.
Blue-eyed Anne.
[Written by Angus Fletcher, among the ruins of Dunoon Castle, which command a distant view of Montstuart in the Isle of Bute. This song appeared first in a Greenock Newspaper, January 1806, but is here given with the author's latest corrections. It was written to the air of "Miss Forbes' farewell to Banff," and has also been set to music of its own by an Edinburgh publisher, who calls the tune "The Flower of Dunoon."]
Nine times bleak winter's cranreuch snell
Despoiled o' bloom the daisied lea;
And nine times has the primrose pale
Spread round the dells of Coir-in-t-shee,
Since, where Montstuart's dusky grove
Waves o'er yon foaming distant sea,
I blushing own'd my youthful love,
And Blue-eyed Anne reproved na me.
Wha then wad think our joys could fade?
Love's dearest pleasures a' we knew;
And not a cloud was seen to shade
The blissful scenes young fancy drew
But scowling tempests soon o'ercast
Our azure skies and summer sea—
I've borne misfortune's rudest blast,
Yet Blue-eyed Anne still smiles on me.
