The bannocks o' barley?

CLXX.

HEE BALOU.

Tune--"_The Highland Balou._"

["Published in the Musical Museum," says Sir Harris Nicolas, "but without the name of the author." It is an old strain, eked out and amended by Burns, and sent to the Museum in his own handwriting.]

I.

Hee balou! my sweet wee Donald, Picture o' the great Clanronald; Brawlie kens our wanton chief Wha got my young Highland thief.

II.

Leeze me on thy bonnie craigie, An' thou live, thou'll steal a naigie: Travel the country thro' and thro', And bring hame a Carlisle cow.

III.

Thro' the Lawlands, o'er the border, Weel, my babie, may thou furder: Herry the louns o' the laigh countree, Syne to the Highlands hame to me.

CLXXI.

WAE IS MY HEART.

Tune--"_Wae is my heart._"

[Composed, it is said, at the request of Clarke, the musician, who felt, or imagined he felt, some pangs of heart for one of the loveliest young ladies in Nithsdale, Phillis M'Murdo.]

I.

Wae is my heart, and the tear's in my e'e; Lang, lang, joy's been a stranger to me; Forsaken and friendless, my burden I bear, And the sweet voice of pity ne'er sounds in my ear.

II.

Love, thou hast pleasures, and deep hae I loved; Love, thou hast sorrows, and sair hae I proved; But this bruised heart that now bleeds in my breast, I can feel by its throbbings will soon be at rest.

III.

O, if I were happy, where happy I hae been, Down by yon stream, and yon bonnie castle green; For there he is wand'ring, and musing on me, Wha wad soon dry the tear frae his Phillis's e'e.

CLXXII.

HERE'S HIS HEALTH IN WATER.

Tune--"_The job of journey-work._"

[Burns took the hint of this song from an older and less decorous strain, and wrote these words, it has been said, in humorous allusion to the condition in which Jean Armour found herself before marriage; as if Burns could be capable of anything so insulting. The words are in the Museum.]

Altho' my back be at the wa', An' tho' he be the fautor; Altho' my back be at the wa', Yet here's his health in water!

O! wae gae by his wanton sides, Sae brawlie he could flatter; Till for his sake I'm slighted sair, And dree the kintra clatter.

But tho' my back be at the wa', And tho' he be the fautor; But tho' my back be at the wa', Yet here's his health in water!

CLXXIII.

MY PEGGY'S FACE.

Tune--"_My Peggy's Face._"

[Composed in honour of Miss Margaret Chalmers, afterwards Mrs. Lewis Hay, one of the wisest, and, it is said, the wittiest of all the poet's lady correspondents. Burns, in the note in which he communicated it to Johnson, said he had a strong private reason for wishing it to appear in the second volume of the Museum.]

I.

My Peggy's face, my Peggy's form, The frost of hermit age might warm; My Peggy's worth, my Peggy's mind, Might charm the first of human kind.

I love my Peggy's angel air, Her face so truly, heav'nly fair, Her native grace so void of art, But I adore my Peggy's heart.

II.

The lily's hue, the rose's dye, The kindling l.u.s.tre of an eye; Who but owns their magic sway?

Who but knows they all decay!

The tender thrill, the pitying tear, The gen'rous purpose, n.o.bly dear, The gentle look, that rage disarms-- These are all immortal charms.