The sweetest hours that e'er I spend
Are spent amang the lasses, O.
* * * * *
XVIII.
MY JEAN!
Tune--"_The Northern Lass._"
[The lady on whom this passionate verse was written was Jean Armour.]
Though cruel fate should bid us part,
Far as the pole and line,
Her dear idea round my heart,
Should tenderly entwine.
Though mountains rise, and deserts howl,
And oceans roar between;
Yet, dearer than my deathless soul,
I still would love my Jean
* * * * *
XIX.
ROBIN.
Tune--"_Daintie Davie._"
[Stothard painted a clever little picture from this characteristic
ditty: the cannie wife, it was evident, saw in Robin's palm something
which tickled her, and a curious intelligence sparkled in the eyes of
her gossips.]
I.
There was a lad was born in Kyle,
But whatna day o' whatna style
I doubt it's hardly worth the while
To be sae nice wi' Robin.
Robin was a rovin' boy,
Rantin' rovin', rantin' rovin';
Robin was a rovin' boy,
Rantin' rovin' Robin!
II.
Our monarch's hindmost year but ane
Was five-and-twenty days begun,
Twas then a blast o' Janwar win'
Blew hansel in on Robin.
III.
The gossip keekit in his loof,
Quo' she, wha lives will see the proof.
This waly boy will be nae coof,
I think we'll ca' him Robin
IV.
He'll hae misfortunes great and sma',
But ay a heart aboon them a';
He'll be a credit to us a',
We'll a' be proud o' Robin.
V.
But sure as three times three mak nine,
I see by ilka score and line,
This chap will dearly like our kin',
So leeze me on thee, Robin.
VI.
Guid faith, quo' she, I doubt you gar,
The bonnie lasses lie aspar,
But twenty fauts ye may hae waur,
So blessin's on thee, Robin!
Robin was a rovin' boy,
Rantin' rovin', rantin' rovin';
Robin was a rovin' boy,
Rantin' rovin' Robin!
* * * * *
XX.
HER FLOWING LOCKS.
Tune--(unknown.)
[One day--it is tradition that speaks--Burns had his foot in the
stirrup to return from Ayr to Mauchline, when a young lady of great
beauty rode up to the inn, and ordered refreshments for her servants;
he made these lines at the moment, to keep, he said, so much
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