Sweet closes the ev’ning on Craigieburn Wood, And blythely awaukens the morrow; But the pride o’ the spring in the Craigieburn Wood Can yield to me nothing but sorrow. Chorus.—Beyond thee, dearie, beyond thee, dearie, And O to be lying beyond thee! O sweetly, soundly, weel may he sleep That’s laid in the bed beyond thee! I see the spreading leaves and flowers, I hear the wild birds singing; But pleasure they hae nane for me, While care my heart is wringing. Beyond thee, &c. I can na tell, I maun na tell, I daur na for your anger; But secret love will break my heart, If I conceal it langer. Beyond thee, &c. I see thee gracefu’, straight and tall, I see thee sweet and bonie; But oh, what will my torment be, If thou refuse thy Johnie! Beyond thee, &c. To see thee in another’s arms, In love to lie and languish, ’Twad be my dead, that will be seen, My heart wad burst wi’ anguish. Beyond thee, &c. But Jeanie, say thou wilt be mine, Say thou lo’es nane before me; And a’ may days o’ life to come I’l gratefully adore thee, Beyond thee, &c. The Bonie Wee Thing Chorus.—Bonie wee thing, cannie wee thing, Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine, I wad wear thee in my bosom, Lest my jewel it should tine. Wishfully I look and languish In that bonie face o’ thine, And my heart it stounds wi’ anguish, Lest my wee thing be na mine. Bonie wee thing, &c. Wit, and Grace, and Love, and Beauty, In ae constellation shine; To adore thee is my duty, Goddess o’ this soul o’ mine! Bonie wee thing, &c.
Epigram On Miss Davies
On being asked why she had been formed so little, and Mrs. A—so big.
Ask why God made the gem so small? And why so huge the granite?— Because God meant mankind should set That higher value on it.
The Charms Of Lovely Davies
Tune—“Miss Muir.”
O how shall I, unskilfu’, try The poet’s occupation? The tunefu’ powers, in happy hours, That whisper inspiration; Even they maun dare an effort mair Than aught they ever gave us, Ere they rehearse, in equal verse, The charms o’ lovely Davies. Each eye it cheers when she appears, Like Phoebus in the morning, When past the shower, and every flower The garden is adorning: As the wretch looks o’er Siberia’s shore, When winter-bound the wave is; Sae droops our heart, when we maun part Frae charming, lovely Davies. Her smile’s a gift frae ’boon the lift, That maks us mair than princes; A sceptred hand, a king’s command, Is in her darting glances; The man in arms ’gainst female charms Even he her willing slave is, He hugs his chain, and owns the reign Of conquering, lovely Davies. My Muse, to dream of such a theme, Her feeble powers surrender: The eagle’s gaze alone surveys The sun’s meridian splendour. I wad in vain essay the strain, The deed too daring brave is; I’ll drap the lyre, and mute admire The charms o’ lovely Davies.