Robert Burns: How To Know Him Part 33

We ranged a' from Tweed to Spey, And lived like lords and ladies gay; For a Lalland face he feared none, My gallant braw John Highlandman.

They banish'd him beyond the sea; But ere the bud was on the tree, Adown my cheeks the pearls ran, Embracing my John Highlandman.

But och! they catch'd him at the last, And bound him in a dungeon fast; My curse upon them every one!

They've hang'd my braw John Highlandman.

And now a widow I must mourn The pleasures that will ne'er return; No comfort but a hearty can, When I think on John Highlandman.

Recitativo

A pigmy sc.r.a.per wi' his fiddle, Wha used to trysts an' fairs to driddle, [markets, toddle]

Her strappin' limb an' gawsie middle [buxom]

(He reach'd nae higher) Had holed his heartie like a riddle, And blawn't on fire. [blown it]

Wi' hand on hainch, and upward e'e, [hip]

He crooned his gamut, one, two, three, Then, in an _Ario's_ key, The wee Apollo Set aff, wi' _allegretto_ glee, His _gig_ solo.

Air

TUNE: Whistle Owre the Lave O't

Let me tyke up to dight that tear, [reach, wipe]

And go wi' me an' be my dear, And then your every care an' fear May whistle owre the lave o't. [rest]

CHORUS

I am a fiddler to my trade, An' a' the tunes that e'er I play'd, The sweetest still to wife or maid, Was _Whistle Owre the Lave o't_.

At kirns and weddings we'se be there, [harvest-homes, we shall]

And oh! sae nicely's we will fare; We'll house about, till Daddie Care Sing _Whistle Owre the Lave o't_.

Sae merrily the banes we'll pyke, [pick]

An' sun oursels about the d.y.k.e, [wall]

An' at our leisure, when ye like, We'll--whistle owre the lave o't.

But bless me wi' your heav'n o' charms, An' while I kittle hair on thairms, [tickle, catgut]

Hunger, cauld, and a' sic harms, [such]

May whistle owre the lave o't.

Recitativo

Her charms had struck a st.u.r.dy caird, [tinker]

As well as poor gut-sc.r.a.per; He taks the fiddler by the beard, An' draws a roosty rapier-- [rusty]

He swoor, by a' was swearing worth, To spit him like a pliver, [plover]

Unless he would from that time forth Relinquish her for ever.

Wi' ghastly e'e, poor tweedle-dee Upon his hunkers bended, [hams]

An' pray'd for grace wi' ruefu' face, An' sae the quarrel ended.

But tho' his little heart did grieve When round the tinkler prest her, He feign'd to snirtle in his sleeve, [sn.i.g.g.e.r]

When thus the caird address'd her:--

Air

TUNE: Clout the Cauldron

My bonnie la.s.s, I work in bra.s.s, A tinkler is my station; I've travell'd round all Christian ground In this my occupation; I've ta'en the gold, I've been enroll'd In many a n.o.ble squadron; But vain they search'd when off I march'd To go an' clout the cauldron. [patch]

Despise that shrimp, that wither'd imp, Wi' a' his noise an' caperin'; An' tak a share wi' those that bear The budget and the ap.r.o.n; [tool-bag]

And, by that stoup, my faith an' houp! [hope]

And by that dear Kilbaigie, [a kind of whisky]

If e'er ye want, or meet wi' scant, [dearth]

May I ne'er weet my craigie. [wet, throat]

Recitativo

The caird prevail'd--th' unblushing fair In his embraces sunk, Partly wi' love o'ercome sae sair, [so sorely]

An' partly she was drunk.

Sir Violino, with an air That show'd a man o' s.p.u.n.k, [spirit]

Wish'd unison between the pair, An' made the bottle clunk To their health that night.

But hurchin Cupid shot a shaft [urchin]

That play'd a dame a shavie; [trick]

The fiddler rak'd her fore and aft, Behint the chicken cavie. [hencoop]

Her lord, a wight of Homer's craft, Tho' limpin' wi' the spavie, [spavin]

He hirpl'd up, an' lap like daft, [hobbled, leapt]

And shor'd them _Dainty Davie_ [yielded them as lovers]

O' boot that night. [gratis]

He was a care-defying blade As ever Bacchus listed; [enlisted]

Tho' Fortune sair upon him laid, His heart she ever miss'd it.

He had nae wish, but--to be glad, Nor want but--when he thirsted; He hated nought but--to be sad, And thus the Muse suggested His sang that night.

Air

TUNE: For A' That, An' A' That

I am a bard of no regard Wi' gentlefolks, and a' that; But Homer-like, the glowrin' byke, [staring crowd]

Frae town to town I draw that.

CHORUS

For a' that, an' a' that, And twice as muckle's a' that; [much]

I've lost but ane, I've twa behin', I've wife eneugh for a' that.

I never drank the Muses' stank, [pond]

Castalia's burn, an' a' that; But there it streams, an' richly reams! [foams]

My Helicon I ca' that.

Great love I bear to a' the fair, Their humble slave, an' a' that; But lordly will, I hold it still A mortal sin to thraw that. [thwart]