The Wren.
[From Herd's Collection.—Tune, "Lennox's Love to Blantyre."]
The wren scho lyes in care's bed,
In care's bed, in care's bed;
The wren scho lyes in care's bed,
In meikle dule and pyne, O.
When in cam' Robin Redbreist,
Redbreist, Redbreist;
When in cam' Robin Redbriest,
Wi' succar-saps and wine, O.
Now, maiden, will ye taste o' this,
Taste o' this, taste o' this;
Now, maiden, will ye taste o' this?
It's succar-saps and wine, O.
Na, ne'er a drap, Robin,
Robin, Robin;
Na, ne'er a drap, Robin,
Though it were ne'er sae fine, O.
And where's the ring that I gied ye,
That I gied ye, that I gied ye;
And where's the ring that I gied ye,
Ye little cutty-quean, O?
I gied it till a soger,
A soger, a soger;
I gied it till a soger,
A true sweetheart o' mine, O.
A Lassie’s Wonders.
[Edward Polin.—Here first printed.]
A' kin's o' lads an' men I see,
The youngest an' the auldest—
The fair, the dark—the big, the wee—
The blatest and the bauldest;
An' mony a laughin', canty ane,
An' mony a coxin sly man—
Hech sirs!—'mang a' the lads that rin,
I won'er wha'll be my man!
I won'er whar he is the noo—
I won'er gin he 's near me,
An' whar we'll meet at first, an' hoo,
An' whan he'll come to speer me.
I won'er gin he kens the braes,
The bonnie braes whar I ran—
Was't there he leeved his laddie days?
—I won'er wha'll be my man!
O gudesake! hoo I wish to ken
The man that I'm to marry,
The ane amang sae mony men:—
I wish I kent a fairy,
Or ony body that can see
A far'er gate than I can—
I won'er wha the chiel's to be—
I won'er wha'll be my man!
But losh na! only hear to me,
It's neither wise nor bonnie,
In asking wha the lad may be—
I'll maybe ne'er get ony;
But if for me indeed there's ane,
I think he's but a shy man
To keep me crying late an' sune
"I won'er wha'll be my man!"
With waefu’ heart.
[Tannahill.—Air, "Sweet Annie frae the sea beach came."—Arranged by Smith.]
With waefu' heart, and sorrowing e'e,
I saw my Jamie sail awa';
O 'twas a fatal day to me,
That day he pass'd the Berwick Law:
How joyless now seem'd all behind!
I ling'ring stray'd along the shore;
Dark boding fears hung on my mind
That I might never see him more.
The night came on with heavy rain,
Loud, fierce, and wild, the tempest blew;
In mountains roll'd the awful main—
Ah, hapless maid! my fears how true!
The landsmen heard their drowning cries,
The wreck was seen with dawning day;
My love was found, and now he lies
Low in the isle of gloomy May.
O boatman, kindly waft me o'er!
The cavern'd rock shall be my home;
'Twill ease my burthen'd heart, to pour
Its sorrows o'er his grassy tomb
With sweetest flowers I'll deck his grave,
And tend them through the langsome year,
I'll water them ilk morn and eve,
With deepest sorrow's wannest tear.
