II.
O happy be the woodbine bower,
Nae nightly bogle make it eerie;
Nor ever sorrow stain the hour,
The place and time I met my dearie!
Her head upon my throbbing breast,
She, sinking, said, “I’m thine for ever?”
While mony a kiss the seal imprest,
The sacred vow,—we ne’er should sever.
III.
The haunt o’ Spring’s the primrose brae,
The Simmer joys the flocks to follow;
How cheery, thro’ her shortening day,
Is Autumn, in her weeds o’ yellow!
But can they melt the glowing heart,
Or chain the soul in speechless pleasure,
Or thro’ each nerve the rapture dart,
Like meeting her, our bosom’s treasure?
“O WHISTLE, AND I’LL COME TO YOU, MY LAD.”
CCII.
O WHISTLE, AND I’LL COME TO YOU.
[In one of the variations of this song the name of the heroine is Jeanie: the song itself owes some of the sentiments as well as words to an old favourite Nithsdale chant of the same name. “Is Whistle, and I’ll come to you, my lad,” Burns inquires of Thomson, “one of your airs? I admire it much, and yesterday I set the following verses to it.” The poet, two years afterwards, altered the fourth line thus:—