His bonnet blue is fallen now;
And bluidy is the plaid
That aften, on the mountain's brow,
Has wrapt his Highland Maid.
My father's sheeling on the hill
Is dowie now and sad;
The breezes whisper round me still,
I've lost my Highland Lad.
Upon Culloden's fatal heath
He spake o' me, they said,
And faultered, wi' his dying breath,
"Adieu, my Highland Maid!"
The weary nicht for rest I seek;
The langsome day I mourn;
The smile upon my withered cheek
Can never mair return:
But soon beneath the sod I'll lie
In yonder lonely glade;
Then, haply, some may weep an' sigh—
"Adieu, sweet Highland Maid!"
Cheerly, Soldier.
Cheerly, Soldier! the gladdening sun
Springs over Albyn's mountains dun,
Purples each peak, and bravely now
Rests his flaming targe on the Grampians' brow,
Smiles o'er the land of the rock and tarn,
Of thine infant's couch, of thy father's cairn—
The land of the race of dauntless mood,
Who grasp thy hand in brotherhood.—
Cheerly, Soldier!
Cheerly, Soldier! gladsome meeting,
The warm salute, the victor's greeting,
Await thee. Now in blazing hall,
Go thread the maze of the flowery ball;
Encircled fond by a kindred throng,
Tell of glories past—pour the heart-warm song;
Or on yon blue hills the roe pursue
With the sweep of the jovial view-halloo.—
Cheerly, Soldier!
Cheerly, Soldier! she who loves thee
Blythe welcome sings 'neath the trysting tree:
On the breeze of morn the heath-cock dancing,
On the gleaming lake the white swan glancing,
The merry fawn in wanton play,
Chasing his twin down the sunny brae,—
Each thing of life with wilding glee,
Shadows the bliss that waits for thee.—
Cheerly, Soldier!
Comin’ thro’ the rye.
[The original old words of "Comin' thro' the rye," or "Gin a body meet a body," cannot be satisfactorily traced. There are many different versions of the song. Some sets embrace such verses as the following:
Gin a body meet a body
Comin' frae the well,
Gin a body kiss a body—
Need a body tell?
Ilka Jenny has her Jocky,
Ne'er a ane ha'e I;
But a' the lads they look at me—
And what the waur am I?
Gin a body meet a body,
Comin' frae the town, (or thro' the broom,)
Gin a body kiss a body—
Need a body gloom? &c.
The following is the version which is given in Johnson's Museum, and which passed through the hands of Burns. The air forms, with slight variation, the third and fourth strains of strathspey called "The Miller's Daughter," in Gow's first Collection.]
Coming through the rye, poor body,
Coming through the rye,
She draiglet a' her petticoatie,
Coming through the rye.
Oh Jenny's a' wat, poor body,
Jenny's seldom dry;
She draiglet a' her petticoatie,
Coming through the rye.
Gin a body meet a body—
Coming through the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body—
Need a body cry?
Gin a body meet a body
Coming through the glen,
Gin a body kiss a body—
Need the warld ken?
