Poems And Songs Of Robert Burns Part 103

That there is a falsehood in his looks, I must and will deny: They tell their Master is a knave, And sure they do not lie.

On A Suicide

Earth'd up, here lies an imp o' h.e.l.l, Planted by Satan's dibble; Poor silly wretch, he's d.a.m.ned himsel', To save the Lord the trouble.

On A Swearing c.o.xcomb

Here cursing, swearing Burton lies, A buck, a beau, or "Dem my eyes!"

Who in his life did little good, And his last words were "Dem my blood!"

On An Innkeeper Nicknamed "The Marquis"

Here lies a mock Marquis, whose t.i.tles were shamm'd, If ever he rise, it will be to be d.a.m.n'd.

On Andrew Turner

In se'enteen hunder'n forty-nine, The deil gat stuff to mak a swine, An' coost it in a corner; But wilily he chang'd his plan, An' shap'd it something like a man, An' ca'd it Andrew Turner.

Pretty Peg

As I gaed up by yon gate-end, When day was waxin' weary, Wha did I meet come down the street, But pretty Peg, my dearie!

Her air sae sweet, an' shape complete, Wi' nae proportion wanting, The Queen of Love did never move Wi' motion mair enchanting.

Wi' linked hands we took the sands, Adown yon winding river; Oh, that sweet hour and shady bower, Forget it shall I never!

Esteem For Chloris

As, Chloris, since it may not be, That thou of love wilt hear; If from the lover thou maun flee, Yet let the friend be dear.

Altho' I love my Chloris mair Than ever tongue could tell; My pa.s.sion I will ne'er declare-- I'll say, I wish thee well.

Tho' a' my daily care thou art, And a' my nightly dream, I'll hide the struggle in my heart, And say it is esteem.

Saw Ye My Dear, My Philly

Tune--"When she cam' ben she bobbit."

O saw ye my Dear, my Philly?

O saw ye my Dear, my Philly, She's down i' the grove, she's wi' a new Love, She winna come hame to her w.i.l.l.y.

What says she my dear, my Philly?

What says she my dear, my Philly?

She lets thee to wit she has thee forgot, And forever disowns thee, her w.i.l.l.y.

O had I ne'er seen thee, my Philly!

O had I ne'er seen thee, my Philly!

As light as the air, and fause as thou's fair, Thou's broken the heart o' thy w.i.l.l.y.

How Lang And Dreary Is The Night

How lang and dreary is the night When I am frae my Dearie; I restless lie frae e'en to morn Though I were ne'er sae weary.

Chorus.--For oh, her lanely nights are lang!

And oh, her dreams are eerie; And oh, her window'd heart is sair, That's absent frae her Dearie!

When I think on the lightsome days I spent wi' thee, my Dearie; And now what seas between us roar, How can I be but eerie?

For oh, &c.

How slow ye move, ye heavy hours; The joyless day how dreary: It was na sae ye glinted by, When I was wi' my Dearie!

For oh, &c.

Inconstancy In Love

Tune--"Duncan Gray."

Let not Woman e'er complain Of inconstancy in love; Let not Woman e'er complain Fickle Man is apt to rove: Look abroad thro' Nature's range, Nature's mighty Law is change, Ladies, would it not seem strange Man should then a monster prove!