OUR THRISSLES FLOURISHED FRESH AND FAIR.
Wha in a brulzie
Will first cry a parley?
Never the lads wi'
The bannocks o' barley.
Bannocks o' bear meal,
Bannocks o' barley;
Here's to the lads wi'
The bannocks o' barley.
Wha in his wae-days
Were loyal to Charlie ?
Wha' but the lads wi'
The bannocks o' barley.
OUR THRISSLES1 FLOURISHED FRESH AND FAIR.
Awa, Whigs, awa!
Awa, Whigs, awa!
Ye're but a pack o' traitor louns,
Ye'll do nae good at a'.
OUR thrissles flourish'd fresh and fair,
And bonnie bloom'd our roses;
But Whigs came in like frost in June,
And wither'd a' our posies.
Our ancient crown's fa'en in the dust-
Deil blin' them wi' the stoure o't;
And write their names in his black beuk,
Wha gae the Whigs the power o't.
Our sad decay in Church and State
Surpasses my descriving;
The Whigs came o'er us for a curse,
And we hae done wi' thriving.
Grim vengeance lang has ta'en a nap,
But we may see him wauken;
Gude help the day when royal heads
Are hunted like a maukin.
Awa, Whigs, awa!
Awa, Whigs, awa!
Ye're but a pack o' traitor louns,
Ye'll do nae gude at a'.
TUNE "CAULD IS THE E'ENIN' BLAST."
CAULD is the e'enin' blast
O' Boreas o'er the pool,
And dawin' it is dreary,
When birks are bare at Yule.
O bitter blaws the e'enin' blast
When bitter bites the frost,
And in the mirk and dreary drift
The hills and glens are lost.
Ne'er sae murky blew the nigh
That drifted o'er the hill,
But a bonnie Peg-a-Ramsey
Gat grist to her mill.
COME BOAT ME O'ER TO CHARLIE.1
TUNE-"O'ER THE WATER TO CHARLIE."
COME boat me o'er, come row me o'er,
Come boat me o'er to Charlie ;
I'll gie John Ross another bawbee,
To boat me o'er to Charlie.
We'll o'er the water and o'er the sea,
We'll o'er the water to Charlie ;
Come weal, come woe, we'll gather and go,
And live or die wi' Charlie.
I lo'e weel my Charlie's name,
Tho' some there be abhor him :
But O, to see auld Nick gaun hame,
And Charlie's faes before him!
I swear and vow by moon and stars,
And sun that shines so early,
If I had twenty thousand lives,
I'd die as aft for Charlie.
We'll o'er the water and o'er the sea,
We'll o'er the water to Charlie ;
Come weal, come woe, we'll gather and go,
And live or die wi' Charlie!
1 An old song, restored by Burns.
BRAW LADS OF GALLA WATER.
Braw, braw lads of Galla Water;
O braw lads of Galla Water:
I'll kilt my coats aboon my knee,
And follow my love through the water.
SAE fair her hair, sae brent1 her brow,
Sae bonny blue her een, my dearie;
Sae white her teeth, sae sweet her mou',
The mair I kiss she's aye my dearie.
O'er yon bank and o'er yon brae,
O'er
yon moss amang the heather;
I'll kilt my coats aboon my knee,
And follow my love through the water.
the broom, the broom, Down amang the broom, my dearie, The lassie lost a silken snood,
That cost her mony a blirt and bleary.2
Braw, braw lads of Galla Water;
O braw lads of Galla Water:
I'll kilt my coats aboon my knee,
And follow my love through the water.
COMING THROUGH THE RYE.
TUNE "COMING THROUGH THE RYE."
COMING through the rye, poor body,
Coming through the rye,
She draiglet a' her petticoatie,
Coming through the rye.
Jenny's a' wat, poor body,
Jenny's seldom dry;
She draiglet a' her petticoatie,
Coming through the rye.
Gin a body meet a body—
Coming through the rye ;
Gin a body kiss a body-
Need a body cry?
Gin a body meet a body
Coming through the glen,
Gin a body kiss a body-
Need the world ken?
Jenny's a' wat, poor body;
Jenny's seldom dry;
She draiglet a' her petticoatie,
Coming through the rye.
TUNE "JACKY LATIN."
GAT ye me, O gat ye me,
O gat ye me wi' naething?
Rock and reel, and spinnin' wheel,
A mickle quarter basin.
Bye attour,' my gutcher2 has
A hich house and a laigh ane,
A' forbye, my bonnie sel',
The toss of Ecclefechan.
O haud your tongue and jauner ;4
I held the gate till you I met,
Syne I began to wander :
I tint my whistle and my sang,
I tint my peace and pleasure;
But your green graff, now, Luckie Laing,
Wad airt me to my treasure.
EXTEMPORE IN THE COURT OF SESSION.
HE clench'd his pamphlets in his fist,
He quoted and he hinted,
Till in a declamation-mist,
His argument he tint it:
He gaped for't, he graped for't,
He fand it was awa, man;
But what his common sense came short,
He eked out wi' law, man.
Collected, Harry stood awee,
Then open'd out his arm, man;
His lordship sat wi' ruefu' e'e,
And ey'd the gathering storm, man;
Like wind-driv'n hail it did assail,
Or torrents owre a linn, man;
The Bench, sae wise, lift their
up
Half-wauken'd wi' the din, man.
TUNE-" HAD I THE WYTE SHE BADE ME."
HAD I the wyte,1 had I the wyte,
Had I the wyte she bade me;
She watch'd me by the hie-gate side,
the loan2 she shaw'd me;
And when I wadna venture in,
A coward loon she ca'd me;
Had kirk and state been in the gate,
I lighted when she bade me.
Sae craftilie she took me ben,
And bade me make nae clatter;
"For our ramgunshoch, glum guidman
Is out and ower the water:'
Whae'er shall say I wanted grace,
When I did kiss and dawte3 her,
Let him be planted in my place,
Syne say I was the fautor.
Could I for shame, could I for shame,
Could I for shame refuse her ?
And wadna manhood been to blame,
Had I unkindly used her?
He clawed her wi' the ripplin-kame,*
And blue and bluidy bruised her
When sic a husband was frae hame,
What wife but had excused her?
2 Milking-place.
• Instrument for dressing flax.
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