Her hair was like the links o' gowd, Her teeth were like the ivorie; Her cheeks like lilies dipt in wine, The la.s.s that made the bed to me.

IX.

Her bosom was the driven snaw, Twa drifted heaps sae fair to see; Her limbs the polish'd marble stane, The la.s.s that made the bed to me.

X.

I kiss'd her owre and owre again, And ay she wist na what to say; I laid her between me and the wa'-- The la.s.sie thought na lang till day.

XI.

Upon the morrow when we rose, I thank'd her for her courtesie; But aye she blush'd, and aye she sigh'd, And said, "Alas! ye've ruin'd me."

XII.

I clasp'd her waist, and kiss'd her syne, While the tear stood twinklin' in her e'e; I said, "My la.s.sie, dinna cry, For ye ay shall mak the bed to me."

XIII.

She took her mither's Holland sheets, And made them a' in sarks to me: Blythe and merry may she be, The la.s.s that made the bed to me.

XIV.

The bonnie la.s.s made the bed to me, The braw la.s.s made the bed to me: I'll ne'er forget till the day I die, The la.s.s that made the bed to me!

CLX.

SAE FAR AWA.

Tune--"_Dalkeith Maiden Bridge._"

[This song was sent to the Museum by Burns, in his own handwriting.]

I.

O, sad and heavy should I part, But for her sake sae far awa; Unknowing what my way may thwart, My native land sae far awa.

Thou that of a' things Maker art, That form'd this fair sae far awa, Gie body strength, then I'll ne'er start At this my way sae far awa.

II.

How true is love to pure desert, So love to her, sae far awa: And nocht can heal my bosom's smart, While, oh! she is sae far awa.

Nane other love, nane other dart, I feel but hers, sae far awa; But fairer never touch'd a heart Than hers, the fair sae far awa.

CLXI.

I'LL AY CA' IN BY YON TOWN.

Tune--"_I'll gae nae mair to yon town._"

[Jean Armour inspired this very sweet song. Sir Harris Nicolas says it is printed in Cromek's Reliques: it was first printed in the Museum.]

I.

I'll ay ca' in by yon town, And by yon garden green, again; I'll ay ca' in by yon town, And see my bonnie Jean again.

There's nane sall ken, there's nane sall guess, What brings me back the gate again; But she my fairest faithfu' la.s.s, And stownlins we sall meet again.

II.

She'll wander by the aiken tree, When trystin-time draws near again; And when her lovely form I see, O haith, she's doubly dear again!

I'll ay ca' in by yon town, And by yon garden green, again; I'll ay ca' in by yon town, And see my bonnie Jean again.

CLXII.

O, WAT YE WHA'S IN YON TOWN.

Tune--"_I'll ay ca' in by yon town._"

[The beautiful Lucy Johnstone, married to Oswald, of Auchencruive, was the heroine of this song: it was not, however, composed expressly in honour of her charms. "As I was a good deal pleased," he says in a letter to Syme, "with my performance, I, in my first fervour, thought of sending it to Mrs. Oswald." He sent it to the Museum, perhaps also to the lady.]

CHORUS.

O, wat ye wha's in yon town, Ye see the e'enin sun upon?

The fairest dame's in yon town, That e'enin sun is shining on.

I.

Now haply down yon gay green shaw, She wanders by yon spreading tree; How blest ye flow'rs that round her blaw, Ye catch the glances o' her e'e!

II.

How blest ye birds that round her sing, And welcome in the blooming year!