The Modern Scottish Minstrel Volume V Part 4

FOOTNOTES:

[2] Composed on board the steams.h.i.+p Niagara, on her voyage to New York, in August 1849.

AULD PETER MACGOWAN.

AIR--_'The Brisk Young Lad.'_

Auld Peter MacGowan cam down the craft, An' rubbit his han's an' fidged an' laugh't; O little thought he o' his wrinkled chaft, When he wanted me to lo'e; He patted my brow an' smooth'd my chin, He praised my e'en an' sleek white skin, Syne fain wad kiss; but the laugh within Came rattlin' out, I trew.

O sirs, but he was a canty carle, Wi' rings o' gowd, an' a brooch o' pearl, An' aye he spoke o' his frien' the Earl, And thought he would conquer lo'e.

He boasted o' gear an' acres wide, O' his bawsand youd that I should ride When I was made his bonny wee bride, Returning lo'e for lo'e; That I a lady to kirk should gang, Ha'e writ my virtues in a sang; But I snapp'd my thumb, and said, "gae hang, Gin that's the best ye can do."

O sirs, but he was a silly auld man, Nae mair he spak' o' his gear an' lan'; An' through the town like lightning ran, The tale o' auld Peter's lo'e.

An' sae the auld carle spiel'd up the craft, And raved and stamp'd like ane gane daft, Till tears trickled owre his burning chaft, Sin' he couldna win my lo'e.

"Far better be single," the folk a' said, "Than a warming pan in an auld man's bed;"

He will be cunning wha gars me wed, Wi' ane that I never can lo'e; Na, na! he maun be a fine young lad, A canty lad, an' a dainty lad; Oh, he maun be a spirited lad, Wha thinks to win my lo'e.

THE FLOWER OF KEIR.

O what care I where love was born; I know where oft he lingers, Till night's black curtain 's drawn aside, By morning's rosy fingers.

If you would know, come, follow me, O'er mountain, moss, and river, To where the Nith and Scar agree To flow as one for ever.

Pa.s.s Kirk-o'-Keir and Clover lea, Through loanings red with roses; But pause beside the spreading tree, That f.a.n.n.y's bower encloses.

There, knitting in her shady grove, Sits f.a.n.n.y singing gaily; Unwitting of the chains of love, She 's forging for us daily.

Like light that brings the blossom forth, And sets the corn a-growing, Melts icy mountains in the north, And sets the streams a-flowing; So f.a.n.n.y's eyes, so bright and wise, Shed loving rays to cheer us, Her absence gives us wintry skies, 'Tis summer when she 's near us!

O, saw ye ever such a face, To waken love and wonder; A brow with such an arch of grace, And blue eyes s.h.i.+ning under!

Her snaring smiles, sweet nature's wiles, Are equall'd not by many; Her look it charms, her love it warms, The flower of Keir is f.a.n.n.y.

CONSTANCY.

Oh! I have traversed lands afar, O'er mountains high, and prairies green; Still above me like a star, Serene and bright thy love has been; Still above me like a star, To gladden, guide, and keep me free From every ill. Oh, life were chill, Apart, my love, apart from thee.

Other eyes might beam as bright, And other cheeks as rosy be; Other arms as pure and white, And other lips as sweet to pree; But ruddy lips, or beaming eyes, However fond and fair to see, I could not, would not love or prize Apart, my love, apart from thee.

Other friends.h.i.+ps I have known, Friends.h.i.+ps dear, and pure, and kind; Liking soon to friends.h.i.+p grown, Love is friends.h.i.+p's ore refined.

Oh, what is life, with love denied?

A scentless flower, a leafless tree; My song with love,--my love with pride, Are full,--my love, are full of thee.

MY BONNIE WEE WIFIE.

My bonnie wee wifie, I 'm waefu' to leave thee, To leave thee sae lanely, and far frae me; Come night and come morning, I 'll soon be returning; Then, oh, my dear wifie, how happy we 'll be!

Oh, cauld is the night, and the way dreigh and dreary, The snaw 's drifting blindly o'er moorland an' lea; All nature looks eerie. How can she be cheery, Since weel she maun ken I am parted frae thee?

Oh, wae is the lammie, that 's lost its dear mammy, An' waefu' the bird that sits chirping alane; The plaints they are making, their wee bit hearts breaking, Are throbbings o' pleasure compared wi' my pain.

The sun to the simmer, the bark to the timmer, The sense to the soul, an' the light to the e'e, The bud to the blossom, sae thou 'rt to my bosom; Oh, wae 's my heart, wifie, when parted frae thee.

There 's nae guid availing in weeping or wailing, Should friends.h.i.+p be failing wi' fortune's decay; Love in our hearts glowing, its riches bestowing, Bequeaths us a treasure life takes not away.

Let nae anxious feeling creep o'er thy heart, stealing The bloom frae thy cheek when thou 'rt thinking of me; Come night and come morning, I 'll then be returning; Nae mair, cozie wifie, we parted shall be.

THE BONNIE BIRD.

Oh, where snared ye that bonnie, bonnie bird?

Oh, where wiled ye that winsome fairy?

I fear me it was where nae truth was heard, And far frae the shrine o' guid St Mary.

I didna snare the bonnie, bonnie bird, Nor try ony wiles wi' the winsome fairy, But won her young heart where the angels heard, In the bowery glen of Inverary.

And what want ye wi' sic a bonnie bird?

I fear me its plumes ye will ruffle sairly; Or bring it low down to the lane kirkyard, Where blossoms o' grace are planted early.

As life I love my bonnie, bonnie bird, Its plumage shall never be ruffled sairly; To the day o' doom I will keep my word, An' cherish my bonnie bird late an' early.

Oh, whence rings out that merry, merry peal?

The laugh and the sang are cherish'd rarely; It is--it is the bonny, bonny bird, Wi' twa sma' voices a' piping early.

For he didna snare that bonny, bonny bird, Nor did he beguile the winsome fairy, He had made her his ain, where the angels heard, At the holy shrine o' the blest St Mary.

COME WHEN THE DAWN.

Come when the dawn of the morning is breaking, Gold on the mountain-tops, mist on the plain, Come when the clamorous birds are awaking Man unto duty and pleasure again; Bright let your spirits be, Breathing sweet liberty, Drinking the rapture that gladdens the brain.

High o'er the swelling hills shepherds are climbing, Down in the meadows the mowers are seen, Haymakers singing, and village bells chiming; La.s.ses and lads lightly trip o'er the green, Flying, pursuing, Toying, and wooing-- Nature is now as she ever has been.