Page:The poetical works of Robert Burns.djvu/343
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THE SONGS OF BURNS.
273
POLLY STEWART.
TUNE—'YE'RE WELCOME, CHARLEY STEWART.'
CHORUS.O lovely Polly Stewart,O charming Polly Stewart,There's ne'er a flower that blooms in May,That's half so fair as thou art.
The flower it blaws, it fades, it fa's,And art can ne'er renew it;But worth and truth eternal youthWill gie to Polly Stewart.
May he, whase arms shall fauld thy charms,Possess a leal and true heart;To him be given to ken the heavenHe grasps in Polly Stewart.O lovely, &c.
THE DEUK'S DANG O'ER MY DADDIE.
The bairns gat out wi' an unco shout,The deuk's dang o'er my daddie, O!The fient ma care, quo' the feirie auld wife,He was but a paidlin body, O!He paidles out, and he paidles in,An' he paidles late and early, O;This seven lang years I hae lien by his side,An' he is but a fusionless carlie, O.
O haud your tongue, my feirie auld wife,O haud your tongue now, Nansie, O:I've seen the day, and sae hae ye,Ye wadna been sae donsie, O;I've seen the day ye butter'd my brose,And cuddl'd me late and earlie, O;But downa do's come o'er me now,And, oh, I find it sairly, O!
THE UNION.
TUNE—'SUCH A PARCEL OF ROGUES IN A NATION.'
Fareweel to a' our Scottish fame,Fareweel our ancient glory!Fareweel even to the Scottish name,Sae fam'd in martial story!Now Sark rins o'er the Solway sands,And Tweed rins to the ocean,To mark where England's province stands;Such a parcel of rogues in a nation.
What guile or force could not subdue,Through many warlike ages,Is wrought now by a coward few,For hireling traitors' wages.The English steel we could disdain,Secure in valour's station,But English gold has been our bane;Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!
O would, or I had seen the dayThat treason thus could sell us,My auld grey head had lien in clay,Wi' Bruce and loyal Wallace!But pith and power, till my last hourI'll mak this declaration,We're bought and sold for English gold:Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!
THERE WAS A BONIE LASS.
There was a bonie lass, and a bonie, bonie lass,And she lo'ed her bonie laddie dear;Till war's loud alarms tore her laddie frae her arms,Wi' monie a sigh and tear.
Over sea, over shore, where the cannons loudly roar,He still was a stranger to fear:And nocht could him quell, or his bosom assail,But the bonie lass he lo'ed sae dear.