O gin my love.
I.
[From Herd's MS. Printed in the "Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border."]
O gin my love were yon red rose,
That grows upon the castle wa',
And I mysel' a drap of dew,
Down on that red rose I would fa'.
O my love's bonnie, honnie, bonnie;
My love's bonnie and fair to see:
Whene'er I look on her weel-far'd face,
She looks and smiles again to me.
O gin my love were a pickle of wheat,
And growing upon yon lily lee,
And I mysel' a bonnie wee bird,
Awa' wi' that pickle o' wheat I wad flee.
O my love's bonnie, &c.
O gin my love were a coffer o' gowd,
And I the keeper of the key,
I wad open the kist whene'er I list,
And in that coffer I wad be.
O my love's bonnie, &c.
II.
[Burns found the first verse of the above song in Witherspoon's collection, coupled to another verse comparatively modern, and was so much struck with their beauty that he added two verses to them, for Thomson's collection. His own verses in the present set stand first in the song, with the view, as he modestly says, of husbanding the "best thoughts for a concluding stroke." The song has been set to different tunes—to "Hughie Graham," to "Lord Balgonie's favourite," &c., but it possesses also an old air of its own. There have been several extensions of the song by other bands.]
O were my love yon lilac fair,
Wi' purple blossoms to the spring,
And I a bird to shelter there,
When wearied on my little wing.
How I wad mourn when it was torn,
By autumn wild, and winter rude!
But I wad sing on wanton wing,
When youthfu' May its bloom renew'd.
O gin my love were yon red rose,
That grows upon the castle wa',
And I mysel' a drap o' dew,
Into her bonnie breast to fa'!
O! there beyond expression blest,
I'd feast on beauty a' the night;
Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
Till fley'd awa' by Phœbus' light.
The yellow-haired Laddie.
[Thomas C. Latto.—Here first printed.]
The maidens are smiling in rocky Glencoe,
The clansmen are arming to rush on the foe,
Gay banners are streaming as forth pours the clan,
The yellow-haired laddie is first in the van.
The pibroch is kindling each heart to the war,
The Camerons' slogan is heard from afar,
They close for the struggle where many shall fall,
But the yellow-haired laddie is foremost of all.
He towers like a wave in the fierce rolling tide,
No kinsman of Evan's may stand by his side,
The Camerons gather around him alone,
He heeds not the danger, and fear is unknown.
The plumes of his bonnet are seen through the fight,
A beacon for valour which fires at the sight,
But he sees not yon claymore, ah! traitorous thrust!
The plumes and the bonnet are laid in the dust.
The maidens are smiling in rocky Glencoe,
The clansmen approach,—they have vanquish'd the foe,
But sudden the cheeks of the maidens are pale,
For the sound of the coronach comes on the gale.
The maidens are weeping in rocky Glencoe,
From warrior's eyelids the bitter drops flow.
They come,—but oh! where is their chieftain so dear?
The yellow-haired laddie is low on the bier.
The maidens are wailing in rocky Glencoe,
There's gloom in the valley,—at sunrise 'twill go,
But no sun can the gloom from their hearts chase away,
The yellow-haired laddie lies cauld in the clay.
