Her waist ye weel micht span,
And she has a rolling eye;
And for bonnie Annie Laurie
I'll lay me down and die.
MODERN VERSION.
Maxwelton braes are bonnie,
Where early fa's the dew,
And it's there that Annie Laurie
Gied me her promise true;
Gied me her promise true,
Which ne'er forgot will be;
And for bonnie Annie Laurie
I'd lay me down and dee.
Her brow is like the snaw-drift,
Her throat is like the swan,
Her face it is the fairest
That e'er the sun shone on;
That e'er the sun shone on,
And dark blue is her e'e;
And for bonnie Annie Laurie
I'd lay me down and dee.
Like dew on the gowan lying,
Is the fa' o' her fairy feet,
And like winds in summer sighing,
Her voice is low and sweet.
Her voice is low and sweet,
And she is a' the world to me;
And for bonnie Annie Laurie
I'd lay me down and dee.
Up wi' the Widow.
[From a collection of "Ancient Ballads and Songs, by Thomas Lyle," London, 1827.]
Welcome, my Johnnie, beardless an' bonnie,
Ye're my conceit, though I'm courted by mony
Come to the spence, my ain merry ploughman,
Make it your hame, ye'll be baith het an' fu', man;
Baith het an' fu', man, baith het an' fu', man,
Make it your hame, ye'll be baith het an' fu', man.
Gin ye be tentie, ye shall ha'e plenty,
Year after year, I ha'e dotted a renty,
Byres fu' o' horse an' kye, barns fu' o' grain, man,
Bukes fu' o' notes, an' a farm o' your ain, man.
At market or fiair, man, ye may be there, man,
Buying or selling, wi' plenty to ware, man,
Dress'd like a laird, in the bravest an' warmest,
Or a gude beast, you'll ride up wi' the foremost.
Taupie young lassies, keeking in glasses,
Wasting their siller on trinkets an' dresses,
Think wi' yoursel', Johnnie, tak' wha ye may do,
Ye may do waur than draw up wi' the widow,
Up wi' the widow, up wi' the widow,
Ye may do waur than draw up wi' the widow.
Prestwick Drum.
[Air, "Aiken Drum."—The original charter of Prestwick is now lost, but is referred to in the renewed grant by James VI. of Scotland. Bruce having at first been unsuccessful, after passing some time in exile, re-appeared in Arran, and crossing the Firth, landed on Prestwick shore, where the inhabitants joined his standard in considerable force; for which service, the king was pleased to erect their town into a barony, with a jurisdiction extending from the Water of Ayr to the Water of Irvine.]
At gloamin grey, the close o' day,
When saftly sinks the village hum,
Nor far nor near ought meets the ear,
But aiblins Prestwick drum.
Nae bluidy battle it betides,
Nor sack, nor siege, nor ought besides,
Twa gude sheep-skins, wi' oaken sides,
An' leather lugs aroun'.
In days o' yore, when to our shore,
For aid the gallant Bruce did come,
His lieges leal did tak' the fiel',
An' march to Prestwick drum.
Gude service aften is forgot,
An' favour won by crafty plot,
An' sic, alas! has been the lot
O' Prestwick's ancient drum.
