The trumpets sound, the banners fly,
The glittering spears are ranked ready;
The shouts o' war are heard afar,
The battle closes thick and bloody;
But it 's no the roar o' sea or shore
Wad mak me langer wish to tarry;
Nor shout o' war that 's heard afar—
It 's leaving thee, my bonnie Mary!
tassie] cup.
Robert Burns. 1759-1796
497. John Anderson, my Jo
JOHN ANDERSON, my jo, John,
When we were first acquent,
Your locks were like the raven,
Your bonnie brow was brent;
But now your brow is beld, John,
Your locks are like the snow;
But blessings on your frosty pow,
John Anderson, my jo!
John Anderson, my jo, John,
We clamb the hill thegither;
And monie a canty day, John,
We've had wi' ane anither:
Now we maun totter down, John,
But hand in hand we'll go,
And sleep thegither at the foot,
John Anderson, my jo.
jo] sweetheart. brent] smooth, unwrinkled. beld] bald. pow] pate. canty] cheerful.
Robert Burns. 1759-1796
498. The Banks o' Doon
YE flowery banks o' bonnie Doon,
How can ye blume sae fair!
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae fu' o' care!