LOVE BROUGHT ME A BOUGH.
Love brought me a bough o' the willow sae green
That waves by yon brook where the wild-flowers grow sheen;
And braiding my harp wi' the sweet budding rue,
It mellow'd its tones 'mang the saft falling dew;
It whisper'd a strain that I wist na to hear,
That false was the lassie my bosom held dear;
Pride stirr'd me to sing, as I tore off the rue—
If she 's got ae sweetheart, sure I can get two!
Yet aft when reflection brings back to my mind
The days that are gane, when my lassie was kind,
A sigh says I felt then as ne'er I feel now,
My soul was enraptured—I canna tell how.
Yet what need I sing o' the joys that hae been,
And why should I start at the glance o' her een,
Or think o' the dark locks that wave o'er her brow?—
If she 's got ae sweetheart, sure I can get two!
Yestreen when the sun glinted blithe on the hill,
I met her alane by the flower-border'd rill,
I speer'd for her weelfare, but cauld was her air,
And I soughtna' to change it by foul words or fair;
She says I deceived her, how can it be sae?
The heart, ere deceived some affection maun hae,
And that hers had nane, I the sairer may rue,
Though she 's got ae sweetheart, an' I can get two.
She left me for ane wha o' mailins could sing,
Sae gie her the pleasures that riches can bring.
Gae fame to the hero, and gowd to the Jew,
And me the enjoyment that 's prized by the few;
A friend o' warm feeling, and frank and refined,
And a lassie that 's modest, true hearted, and kind,
I 'll woo her, I 'll lo'e her, and best it will do,
For love brings nae bliss when it tampers wi' two.
HOW 'S A' WI' YE.
Air—"Jenny's Bawbee."
Ere foreign fashions cross'd the Tweed,
A bannet happ'd my daddie's head,
Our daintiest fare was milk-and-bread,
Folk scunner'd a' at tea;
When cronies met they didna stand,
To rule their words by manners grand,
But warmly clasping hand in hand,
Said, How 's a' wi' ye.