IV.
The Highland hills I’ve wander’d wide,
And o’er the Lowlands I hae been;
But Phemie was the blithest lass
That ever trod the dewy green.
Blithe, blithe and merry was she,
Blithe was she but and ben:
Blithe by the banks of Ern.
And blithe in Glenturit glen.
LVI.
THE BLUDE RED ROSE AT YULE MAY BLAW.
Tune—“To daunton me.”
[The Jacobite strain of “To daunton me,” must have been in the mind of the poet when he wrote this pithy lyric for the Museum.]
I.
The blude red rose at Yule may blaw,
The simmer lilies bloom in snaw,
The frost may freeze the deepest sea;
But an auld man shall never daunton me.
To daunton me, and me so young,
Wi’ his fause heart and flatt’ring tongue.
That is the thing you ne’er shall see;
For an auld man shall never daunton me.
II.