Robert Burns: How To Know Him Part 14

But a' the niest week as I petted wi' care, [next, fretted]

I gaed to the tryst o' Dalgarnock; [fair]

And wha but my fine fickle lover was there?

I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock, a warlock, [stared, wizard]

I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock.

But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink, [shoulder, gave, glance]

Lest neebors might say I was saucy; My wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink, And vow'd I was his dear la.s.sie, dear la.s.sie, And vow'd I was his dear la.s.sie.

I spier'd for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet, [asked, kindly]

Gin she had recover'd her hearin', [If]

And how her new shoon fit her auld shachl't feet-- [shoes, ill-shaped]

But, heavens! how he fell a swearin', a swearin'.

But, heavens! how he fell a swearin'.

He begged for gudesake I wad be his wife, Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrow: So e'en to preserve the poor body in life, I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow, [must]

I think I maun wed him to-morrow.

FOR THE SAKE O' SOMEBODY

My heart is sair, I dare na tell, [sore]

My heart is sair for somebody; I could wake a winter night, For the sake o' somebody!

Oh-hon! for somebody!

Oh-hey! for somebody!

I could range the world around, For the sake o' somebody.

Ye powers that smile on virtuous love, O, sweetly smile on somebody!

Frae ilka danger keep him free, [every]

And send me safe my somebody.

Oh-hon! for somebody!

Oh-hey! for somebody!

I wad do--what wad I not?

For the sake o' somebody!

OPEN THE DOOR TO ME, O!

Oh, open the door, some pity to shew, Oh, open the door to me, O!

Tho' thou hast been false, I'll ever prove true, Oh, open the door to me, O!

Cauld is the blast upon my pale cheek, But caulder thy love for me, O!

The frost, that freezes the life at my heart, Is nought to my pains frae thee, O!

The wan moon is setting behind the white wave, And time is setting with me, O!

False friends, false love, farewell! for mair I'll ne'er trouble them nor thee, O!

She has open'd the door, she has open'd it wide; She sees his pale corse on the plain, O!

'My true love!' she cried, and sank down by his side, Never to rise again, O!

WANDERING WILLIE

Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie, [away]

Here awa, there awa, haud awa hame; [hold]

Come to my bosom, my ae only dearie, [one]

Tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same.

Loud tho' the winter blew cauld at our parting, 'Twas na the blast brought the tear in my e'e; Welcome now, Simmer, and welcome, my Willie, The Simmer to Nature, my Willie to me!

Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave o' your slumbers; How your dread howling a lover alarms!

Wauken, ye breezes, row gently, ye billows, [Awake]

And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms. [once more]

But oh, if he's faithless, and minds na his Nannie, Flow still between us, thou wide-roaring main; May I never see it, may I never trow it, But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain! [own]

HOW LANG AND DREARY

How lang and dreary is the night.

When I am frae my dearie!

I restless lie frae e'en to morn, Tho' I were ne'er sae weary.

For O, her lanely nights are lang; And O, her dreams are eerie; [fearful]

And O, her widow'd heart is sair, [sore]

That's absent frae her dearie.

When I think on the lightsome days I spent wi' thee, my dearie, And now that seas between us roar, How can I be but eerie!

How slow ye move, ye heavy hours; The joyless day how drearie!

It wasna sae ye glinted by, [glanced]

When I was wi' my dearie.

THE BONNIE LAD THAT'S FAR AWA

O how can I be blithe and glad, Or how can I gang brisk and braw, [go, fine]

When the bonnie lad that I lo'e best Is o'er the hills and far awa?

It's no the frosty winter wind, It's no the driving drift and snaw; But aye the tear comes in my e'e, To think on him that's far awa.

My father pat me frae his door, [put]

My friends they hae disown'd me a': But I hae ane will tak my part, [have one]

The bonnie lad that's far awa.

A pair o' gloves he bought to me, And silken snoods he gae me twa; [fillets, gave]

And I will wear them for his sake, The bonnie lad that's far awa.

O weary winter soon will pa.s.s, And spring will cleed the birken shaw: [clothe, birch woods]

And my young babie will be born, And he'll be hame that's far awa.