Love.
[William Thom of Inverury.—Music by Samuel Lover.]
O say not—"Love will never
Breathe in that breast again;"
That "where he bled, must ever
All pleasureless remain."
Shall tempest-riven blossom,
When fair leaves fall away,
In coldness close its bosom
'Gainst beams of milder day
O never!—nay
It blooms—whene'er it may.
Though ruthless tempest tear—
Though biting frosts subdue—
And leave no tendril where
Love's pretty flowrets grew;
The soil, all ravag'd so,
Will nurture more and more,
And stately roses blow
Where gowans droop'd before.
Then why—O! why
Should sweet love ever die?
The Flittin' o' the Cow.
[Alex. Smart.—Air, "Tak' your auld Cloak about ye."]
In summer, when the fields were green,
An' heather bells bloomed ower the lea,
An' hawthorns lent their leafy screen,
A fragrant bield for bird an' bee;
Our hawkie in the clover field
Was chewin' her cud wi' gratefu' mou',
And our gudewife, wi' eydent hand,
Had just been out to flit the cow.
O, our gudeman's a leal gudeman,
But nane maun daur to say him na;
There's nae a laird in a' the lan'
Wi' higher hand maintains the law.
Though he be poor he's unco proud,
An' aye maun be obeyed at hame;
An' there, when he's in angry mood,
Wha conters him may rue the same.
"Gae flit the cow!" says our gudeman:—
Wi' ready tongue the dame replies,
"Gudeman, it is already done"—
"Gae flit the cow!" again he cries.
"My will ye'll do wi' hand an' heart,
If ye're a wife baith kind an' true;
Obedience is the woman's part—
Make haste, gudewife, an' flit the cow!"
"Gudeman, ye're surely clean gane gyte,
The cow's already flittit been;
To see you fume an' hear you flyte,
I ferlie meikle what ye mean.
What need to gang an' do again
The thing that I ha'e done e'en now?
What idle tantrum's this ye've ta'en?"—
"I say, gudewife, gae flit the cow!
"Gudeman, when we were lad an' lass,
Your tongue was like a honey kaim;
An' aye ye vow'd ye'd ne'er prove fause,
But kythe like ony lamb at hame.
But now ye look sae dark an' doure,
Wi' angry e'e an' crabbit mou',
Ye gar me aften rue the hour"———
"I say, gudewife, gae flit the cow!"
Syne he began to loup an' ban,
When out the wife flew in a huff;
"Come back! come back!" cries our gudeman,
"Come back! obedience is enough!
My sovereign will ye maun obey,
When my commands are laid on you;
Obedient, baith by night an' day,
An' ready aye to flit the cow!"
Mary.
[Written by James Stirrat of Dairy, and printed here for the first time in a correct form. This song was set to music by the late R. A. Smith, but his Notes have been unfortunately lost.]
"In life's gay morn," when hopes beat high,
And youthfu' love's endearing tie
Gave rapture to the mutual sigh
Within the arms of Mary,
My ain dear Mary;
Nae joys beneath the vaulted sky
Could equal mine wi' Mary.
