Page:The poetical works of Robert Burns.djvu/363

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THE SONGS OF BURNS.
291

THE HIGHLAND WIDOW'S LAMENT.

Oh! I am come to the low countrie,Och-on, och-on, och-rie!Without a penny in my purse,To buy a meal to me.
It was nae sae in the Highland hills,Och-on, och-on, och-rie!Nae woman in the country wideSae happy was as me.
For then I had a score o' kye,Och-on, och-on, och-rie!Feeding on yon hills so high,And giving milk to me.
And there I had three score o' yowes,Och-on, och-on, och-rie!Skipping on yon bonie knowes,And casting woo' to me.
I was the happiest of the clan,Sair, sair may I repine;For Donald was the brawest lad,And Donald he was mine.
Till Charlie Stewart cam at last,Sae far to set us free;My Donald's arm was wanted then,For Scotland and for me.
Their waefu' fate what need I tell,Right to the wrang did yield:My Donald and his country fellUpon Culloden's field.
Oh! I am come to the low countrie,Och-on, och-on, och-rie!Nae woman in the world wideSae wretched now as me.

THE TITHER MORN.

The tither morn,When I forlorn,Aneath an aik sat moaning,I did na trow,I'd see my Jo,Beside me, gain the gloaming.But he sae trig,Lap o'er the rig,And dawtingly did cheer me,When I, what reck,Did least expec',To see my lad so near me.
His bonnet he,A thought ajee,Cock'd sprush when first he clasped me;And I, I wat,Wi' fainness grat,While in his grips he press'd me,Deil tak' the war!I late and air,Hae wish'd since Jock departed;But now as gladI'm wi' my lad,As short syne broken-hearted.
Fu' aft at e'enWi' dancing keen,When a' were blythe and merry,I car'd na by,Sae sad was IIn absence o' my dearie.But, praise be blest,My mind's at rest,I'm happy wi' my Johnny:At kirk and fair,I'se ay be there,And be as canty's ony.
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