Poems And Songs Of Robert Burns Part 66

Her closed eyes, like weapons sheath'd, Were seal'd in soft repose; Her lip, still as she fragrant breath'd, It richer dyed the rose; The springing lilies, sweetly prest, Wild-wanton kissed her rival breast; He gaz'd, he wish'd, He mear'd, he blush'd, His bosom ill at rest.

Her robes, light-waving in the breeze, Her tender limbs embrace; Her lovely form, her native ease, All harmony and grace; Tumultuous tides his pulses roll, A faltering, ardent kiss he stole; He gaz'd, he wish'd, He fear'd, he blush'd, And sigh'd his very soul.

As flies the partridge from the brake, On fear-inspired wings, So Nelly, starting, half-awake, Away affrighted springs; But Willie follow'd--as he should, He overtook her in the wood; He vow'd, he pray'd, He found the maid Forgiving all, and good.

Young Jockie Was The Blythest Lad

Young Jockie was the blythest lad, In a' our town or here awa; Fu' blythe he whistled at the gaud, Fu' lightly danc'd he in the ha'.

He roos'd my een sae bonie blue, He roos'd my waist sae genty sma'; An' aye my heart cam to my mou', When ne'er a body heard or saw.

My Jockie toils upon the plain, Thro' wind and weet, thro' frost and snaw: And o'er the lea I leuk fu' fain, When Jockie's owsen hameward ca'.

An' aye the night comes round again, When in his arms he taks me a'; An' aye he vows he'll be my ain, As lang's he has a breath to draw.

The Banks Of Nith

The Thames flows proudly to the sea, Where royal cities stately stand; But sweeter flows the Nith to me, Where Comyns ance had high command.

When shall I see that honour'd land, That winding stream I love so dear!

Must wayward Fortune's adverse hand For ever, ever keep me here!

How lovely, Nith, thy fruitful vales, Where bounding hawthorns gaily bloom; And sweetly spread thy sloping dales, Where lambkins wanton through the broom.

Tho' wandering now must be my doom, Far from thy bonie banks and braes, May there my latest hours consume, Amang the friends of early days!

Jamie, Come Try Me

Chorus.--Jamie, come try me, Jamie, come try me, If thou would win my love, Jamie, come try me.

If thou should ask my love, Could I deny thee?

If thou would win my love, Jamie, come try me!

Jamie, come try me, &c.

If thou should kiss me, love, Wha could espy thee?

If thou wad be my love, Jamie, come try me!

Jamie, come try me, &c.

I Love My Love In Secret

My Sandy gied to me a ring, Was a' beset wi' diamonds fine; But I gied him a far better thing, I gied my heart in pledge o' his ring.

Chorus.--My Sandy O, my Sandy O, My bonie, bonie Sandy O; Tho' the love that I owe To thee I dare na show, Yet I love my love in secret, my Sandy O.

My Sandy brak a piece o' gowd, While down his cheeks the saut tears row'd; He took a hauf, and gied it to me, And I'll keep it till the hour I die.

My Sand O, &c.

Sweet Tibbie Dunbar

O wilt thou go wi' me, sweet Tibbie Dunbar?

O wilt thou go wi' me, sweet Tibbie Dunbar?

Wilt thou ride on a horse, or be drawn in a car, Or walk by my side, O sweet Tibbie Dunbar?

I care na thy daddie, his lands and his money, I care na thy kin, sae high and sae lordly; But sae that thou'lt hae me for better for waur, And come in thy coatie, sweet Tibbie Dunbar.

The Captain's Lady

Chorus.--O mount and go, mount and make you ready, O mount and go, and be the Captain's lady.

When the drums do beat, and the cannons rattle, Thou shalt sit in state, and see thy love in battle: When the drums do beat, and the cannons rattle, Thou shalt sit in state, and see thy love in battle.

O mount and go, &c.

When the vanquish'd foe sues for peace and quiet, To the shades we'll go, and in love enjoy it: When the vanquish'd foe sues for peace and quiet, To the shades we'll go, and in love enjoy it.

O mount and go, &c.

John Anderson, My Jo

John Anderson, my jo, John, When we were first acquent; Your locks were like the raven, Your bonie brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John, Your locks are like the snaw; But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson, my jo.

John Anderson, my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither; And mony a cantie day, John, We've had wi' ane anither: Now we maun totter down, John, And hand in hand we'll go, And sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson, my jo.

My Love, She's But A La.s.sie Yet

My love, she's but a la.s.sie yet, My love, she's but a la.s.sie yet; We'll let her stand a year or twa, She'll no be half sae saucy yet; I rue the day I sought her, O!

I rue the day I sought her, O!

Wha gets her needs na say she's woo'd, But he may say he's bought her, O.