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31. THE WINSOME LASS O' LOGIE
O' a' the lassies I ha'e
seen
In a' the places
I ha'e been
There's
nane can equal my dear Jean,
The winsome lass o' Logie.
Though ye shu'd search the
country wast
As far as
Stirling Brig,
An'
eastward to Saint Andrews Bay
Ye tramp wi' weary leg,
Ye'll never see in cot or ha',
Nor ony place I ween,
A lassie half sae trig an' braw
As my lass, Jean.
O' a' the lassies I ha'e seen, &c.
Although I'm but a plooman
chield,
An' toil baith
late an' early,
I
whustle as I turn the field,
My bosom beatin' rarely.
For hov'rin' near in ilka place
The birds an' floo'rs I ween
Reca' the voice, an' hint the face
O' my lass, Jean.
O' a' the lassies I ha'e seen, &c.
Speed wastlins sun an'
coorie doon,
Come
swith, sweet gloamin' grey,
An' I'll be airtin' 'yont the toon
Wi' my dear lass to stray.
I'll press her to my bosom fain,
An' pree her moo', I ween,
An' tell love's story owre again
To my lass, Jean.
O' a' the lassies I ha'e seen, &c.
32. LOST LOVE
I used to sing a sang
langsyne,
When a' my
hopes were bricht;
Before death pairted me an' mine,
And shut out heaven's licht,
When a' the day an' a' the nicht,
Seemed fu' o' bliss to me;
But noo the tears I often dicht
When there are nane to see.
I sang it aft when she, my
love,
Was wi' me i'
the gloamin',
When in
yon weel-remember'd grove
We carelessly gaed roamin'.
It was a sang o' faithfu' love-
It micht ha'e been oor ain;
Thought a' the world should disapprove,
Still faithfu' we'd remain.
An' from the first time that
we met,
Wi' love my
heart was fu';
Her
beauty I can ne'er forget,
Her sweetness haunts me noo
Sae gentle, winnin', frank and free,
She trusted me sincerely;
Her heart I kent was a' for me,
An' O, I lo'ed her dearly.
But a' my mirth was turned
to wae,
My bricht
love-day to nicht,
For
death's dark shadow cam' to stay,
And she was hid frae sicht!
They laid her i' the cauld, cauld ground-
I lang aft to gang to her;
Nae solace ha'e I ever found,
For a' my love I gae her.
I wander aften doon the
glen,
Whaur ance we
roved thegither;
But
nothing seems sae sweet as when
We roved wi' ane anither.
I used to sing a sang langsyne,
I sing that sang nae mair;
It sang o' love, an' lost is mine,
An' O, my heart is sair
33. THE BAIRNS AT PLAY
I'm auld, maybe, but I love
to see
The noisy
bairns at play,
For it
mak's me feel that I canna weel
Be as auld as my ain folks say.
It quickens the bluid an' daes me guid,
This clamorous mirth sae rare,
An' the merry scene gars my heart grow green,
Though snaw-white is my hair.
The sparklin' thrill that
seems to fill
The
lauch of the merry weans
Juist seems to bizz the rhumatiz
Richt oot o' my very banes.
An' the lovin' sheen that's in their een
Sets a lowe to the teen in mine;
Awa' gaes care, an' I'm young ance mair,
As in the dear langsyne.
Twice forty years wi' a'
their cares
Ha'e bent
my shouthers roun',
But I'll ne'er thraw when He gi'es the ca',
In peace I'll lay me doon.
My days are spent, yet sweet content
Steals owre me frae the scene
In a sweet day-dream, again I seem
To dance upon the green.
In harmless mirth dance on,
dear weans,
In a' your
noisy glee;
Your
jingo-rings a pleasure brings
That's unco dear to me.
In thocht wi' you I romp amang
The colls o' the new mown hay,
An' ilka joy that's yours is mines,
This glorious simmer day.
This warl' at best is a
weary fecht
Frae
mornin' sun till mirk.
An' the Valley o' Death, tho' it hauds nae
skaith,
Is a gate we
fain wad shirk.
But to
see this day the bairns at play
To me sweet comfort brings,
An' the thochts o' the tomb are bereft o' their
gloom
Wi' a waff frae
an angel's wings.
34. CRADLE SONG
Hushie-baa bairnie, hushie-baa
loo!
Daddie's ain
darlin' and Minnie's wee doo,
Heaven's ain sunshine the mirk to beam thro'-
Hushie-baa bairnie, hushie-baa loo!
Hushie-baa bairnie, hushie-baa
loo!
Yer daddie's awa
on the deep, rollin' sea,
Toilin' for siller to keep you an' me---
Hushie-baa bairnie, hushie-baa loo!
Hushie-baa bairnie, hushie-baa
loo!
When the win'
blaws hie, an' white rides the faem,
May God guide his boatie, an' bring him safe
hame-
Hushie-baa
bairnie, hushie-baa loo!
Hushie-baa bairnie, hushie-baa
loo!
Sleepin' fu'
soond wi' an' angel's saft smile
Lurkin' anoond yer wee moo' a' the while-
Hushie-baa bairnie, hushie-baa loo!
*****************
Mirk, mirk's the nicht, the
skies low'r an' froon,
O Faither in Heaven, wi' kind e'e look doon
On a' yer puir bairnies that's oot on the sea,
An' bring my love hame to the bairnie an' me.
35. A WEE WOODEN DOLL
Oh! lay it cannie by, John,
Doon in the bottom draw'r,
Beside her wee bit frocks an' things,
She'll need, alas! nae mair;
An' hap them up frae sicht, John,
We'll cherish them wi' care,
For when I see them lying oot
It mak's my toom heart sair.
Her wee bit bonnie face,
John,
It thrilled my
very heart,
When
pressed upon my briest to drink
Did mother's love impart.
It rises up whene'er I see
A toy or ocht she had,
An' tears, which when she dee'd were dry,
Come drappin' doon fu' sad.
Nae mair she'll rin to meet
ye
When ye're comin'
hame at e'en,
An' clap
her bonnie hands, John,
The welcome aft she's gi'en.
Nae mair she'll claim her dadda's kiss,
Nor sclim up on yer knee,
Nor row her airms aroond yer neck
In a' her childish glee.
Her een I'll ne'er forget,
John,
They were sae
fu' o' love,
Juist
crooded wi' some angel pooer,
Sent doon frae Heaven above.
She smiled sae sweetly when she dee'd,
I couldna think her gane;
But ah! her wee bit heart was stilled,
An' cauld she grew as stane.
But still the smile was
there, John,
An' the
licht was in her e'e,
As if she saw some bonnie sicht
That mortals canna see;
An' peace fell on my troubled soul
As though some angel nigh,
An' I kent that my wee sufferin' lam'
Was safely hame on high.
Sae lay it cannie by, John,
Doon i' the bottom draw'r,
Beside her wee bit frocks an' things,
She'll need, alas! nae mair;
An' hap them up frae sicht, John,
We'll gaird them a' wi' care;
But when I see them lyin' oot
It mak's my toom heart sair.
36. OOR AIN LITTLE BOB
Oor Bobbie's the sturdiest
wean ye e'er saw,
Wi'
his cheeks like the roses, an' skin like the snaw
Tho' his face is as aften as black as a craw,
He's the bonniest bairn that ever I saw.
He's ne'er oot a' mischief, his pranks gar me
start,
Whene'er I hear
onything, thud goes my heart;
For I think that nae mither e'er had sic a job,
As to ha'e sic a wean as oor ain little Bob.
Sometimes he's a sodger, an'
armed fu' rare,
The
bissim he'll shouther, an' march thro' the flair;
An' aye as he passes his mither or me,
He gi'es us a look, wi' the tail o' his e'e.
Then he'll shoot me, an' I've aye to drap richt
doon dead,
Then he
brings me to life, by the hair o' th' head;
And deein' or leevin's a grand kind o' job,
For it pleases oor darlin', oon ain little Bob.
Then he'll mak' me his
horse, an' owner gey siccar!
For owre hill and dale I've to gang wi' a
bicker,
I pace like
the leddies, an' like the gent's trot,
But the gallopin' cadger aye beats the hale
lot.
Then whiles I've
to gang on my hands an' my knees,
An' be a wild beast, the young man to please;
I'll whiles be an elephant, sometimes a bear,
An' as long as we're happy what needs we care.
The cat aften gets its full
share o' what's gaun,
Held up by the legs, on its head it'll staun'
An' syne by the tail he'll gi'e her a swing,
An' yell when wi' her claws, to him she'll
cling.
His mither's
delicht is to see neat an' clean
Her ain little laddie just like a new preen;
But bless you, his peenie is no' clean a
minute,
For whaur
there's some dirt he is shair to be in it.
He'll play in the coal-hole
wi' evident joy,
An'
to get in a backet's an' awfu' fine ploy;
He'll eat up the cinders to hear his teeth
crunch,
An' laugh wi'
enjoyment at his free lunch.
But when wi' his claes aff, he gi'es me a kiss,
I think in the world there's nae greater bliss,
Than weans an' a wife, wi' the blessin' o'
Heaven,
An' I pray
that wi' grief oor hearts ne'er may be riven.
37. WHEN E'ENIN' SHADOWS
When e'enin' shadows settle
doon,
An' peace fa's
saft on a' aroon',
I
leave the dinsome noisy toon,
To wander by the Devon;
An' there I meet my jewel rare-
There's few wi' her that can compare;
What heavenly bliss I ha'e seen there,
Beside the wimplin' Devon.
Gie gowd to misers, croons
to kings-
Gie me the 'oor
that Mary brings,
When
love a gowden glamour flings
On a' beside the Devon;
The wimplin' burnie rins alang,
The birds sing out their heartsome sang-
Wi' love's auld story we are thrang,
While wanderin' by the Devon.
Sing on, sweet birds, thy
sangs o' glee,
They
aye seem fu' o' love to me-
The love that glints frae Mary's e'e,
While rovin' by the Devon.
Oh! guard, kind Heaven, my lassie fair,
May snell winds miss my blossom rare,
An' to this lovin' bosom spare,
Sweet Mary o' the Devon.
38. A SONG FOR THE QUEEN
I sing to the Queen a song
of love,
Allegiance
true I swear,
May
guardian angels from above
Be near to hear my prayer.
Her rights I'll guard and never yield
Till death shall lay me low;
My breast shall be the targe to shield
Her safe from every foe.
CHORUS.
Then here's to the Queen, long may she reign,
God keep her free from strife.
Long live the Queen! God bless the Queen!
The Queen of Queens! My wife.
I give to the Queen my heart
and hand,
My labour
and my love,
And only
wait for her command
My faithfulness to prove.
Should sorrow-clouds obscure the sun,
Or grief awaken tears,
Kind Heaven! oh, spare my dearest one,
And banish all her fears.
CHORUS.
Then here's to the Queen, long may she reign,
God keep her free from strife.
Long live the Queen! God bless the Queen!
The Queen of Queens! My wife.
Now some folks may say 'tis
a selfish song,
But
all you have to do
Is
to sing this song with a fervour strong
Of your own wife good and true.
So fill your glasses to the brim,
And pledge each man his own,
The peerless Queen who belongs to him,
And reigns in his heart alone.
CHORUS.
Then sing this refrain, long may she reign,
God keep her free from strife.
God bless the Queen! Long live the Queen!
The peerless Queen! My wife.
39. AULD SCOTLAND FOR ME
Ye needna sing yer sangs to
me
O' launds that's
faur awa',
Whaur
glit'rin' gowd gars gowks ga'e gyte,
An' honour's tint an' a'.
Whaur love a' gowd wi' am'rous airms
Twines roan' an' roan' the heart,
An' captivates wi' Clootie's charms
Cuifs frae the manly pairt.
Ye needna rave o' fairer
scenes,
Whaur floo'rs
are aye in bloom;
Whaur skies are aye o' unfleck'd blue,
Nor kens o' misty gloom.
Gi'e me the dour an' dorty land,
Wi' a' her faults, my lads
Her rugged hills, her gurglin' rills,
Her mosses purple clad.
Let's sing a' Bonnie
Scotland, lads,
The
laund we lo'e sae weel;
The laund whaur Bruce an' Wallace focht,
Fair freedom's brae to spiell.
The laund whaur Allan Ramsay sprang,
Hogg, Scott, an' Tannahill;
An' Burns, whase strains a' deathless sang
Gars oor hearts tingle still.
O leeze me on ye Scotland,
dear,
My heart for you
is fain;
My a' I'd
fling gin I cud sing
O' thee in worthy strain.
Yer whinny knowes in green an' gowd,
Yer gowan spangled lea,
Yer lochs an' bens, yer burns an' glens-
Auld Scotland, aye for me.
40. BONNIE BIELDSIDE
O bonnie Bieldside by the
auld river Dee,
Whaur
kind hearts are waitin' a welcome to gi'e,
Whaur simmer seems taigled bewitched wi' the
scene
O' the clachan
that lies smoor'd in purple and green.
The heich hills aroon' it,
majestic and graund,
A' rugged an' silent, like sentinels staund;
Below lies the valley, enchantin', serene,
Arrayed in a rich broider'd mantle o' green.
The sleepless auld Dee
cuddles close in the howe,
An' jinks mony witch-stane an' fay-haunted
knowe.
Whiles brawlin'
an' whiles like a wean sleepin' soun',
Whiles clear as a crystal, whiles drumlie an'
broon,
The lav'rock hings hiech owre the ripenin'
grain,
An' pours
fourth a sang makin' weary hearts fain,
In e'ein' the mavis's music rings clear,
An' the win' wafts the chimes o' the Blair to
oor ear.
O fair is the dell whaur yon wee burnie rins,
An' bonnie's the tassels o' gowd on the whins,
The green shady lane that leads doon to the
Dee,
Luxuriously
verdant, delichts heart and e'e.
O bonnie Bieldside wi' yen
heather-clad braes,
Though puir, its a heart-sang I sing in your praise,
May peace aye abide an' may joy ever be,
Wi' a' in Bieldside by the auld river Dee.
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