CCLXII.

TO GENERAL DUMOURIER.

PARODY ON ROBIN ADAIR.

[Burns wrote this "Welcome" on the unexpected defection of General Dumourier.]

I.

You're welcome to despots, Dumourier; You're welcome to despots, Dumourier; How does Dampiere do?

Aye, and Bournonville, too?

Why did they not come along with you, Dumourier?

II.

I will fight France with you, Dumourier; I will fight France with you, Dumourier; I will fight France with you, I will take my chance with you; By my soul I'll dance a dance with you, Dumourier.

III.

Then let us fight about, Dumourier; Then let us fight about, Dumourier; Then let us fight about, Till freedom's spark is out, Then we'll be d.a.m.n'd, no doubt, Dumourier.

CCLXIII.

PEG-A-RAMSEY.

Tune--"_Cauld is the e'enin blast._"

[Most of this song is old: Burns gave it a brushing for the Museum.]

I.

Cauld is the e'enin' blast O' Boreas o'er the pool, And dawin' it is dreary When birks are bare at Yule.

II.

O bitter blaws the e'enin' blast When bitter bites the frost, And in the mirk and dreary drift The hills and glens are lost.

III.

Ne'er sae murky blew the night That drifted o'er the hill, But a bonnie Peg-a-Ramsey Gat grist to her mill.

CCLXIV.

THERE WAS A BONNIE La.s.s.

[A s.n.a.t.c.h of an old strain, trimmed up a little for the Museum.]

I.

There was a bonnie la.s.s, And a bonnie, bonnie la.s.s, And she lo'ed her bonnie laddie dear; Till war's loud alarms Tore her laddie frae her arms, Wi' mony a sigh and tear.

II.

Over sea, over sh.o.r.e, Where the cannons loudly roar, He still was a stranger to fear; And nocht could him quell, Or his bosom a.s.sail, But the bonnie la.s.s he lo'ed sae dear.

CCLXV.

O MALLY'S MEEK, MALLY'S SWEET.

[Burns, it is said, composed these verses, on meeting a country girl, with her shoes and stockings in her lap, walking homewards from a Dumfries fair. He was struck with her beauty, and as beautifully has he recorded it. This was his last communication to the Museum.]

I.

O Mally's meek, Mally's sweet, Mally's modest and discreet, Mally's rare, Mally's fair, Mally's every way complete.

As I was walking up the street, A barefit maid I chanc'd to meet; But O the road was very hard For that fair maiden's tender feet.

II.

It were mair meet that those fine feet Were weel lac'd up in silken shoon, And 'twere more fit that she should sit, Within yon chariot gilt aboon.

III.

Her yellow hair, beyond compare, Comes trinkling down her swan-white neck; And her two eyes, like stars in skies, Would keep a sinking ship frae wreck.

O Mally's meek, Mally's sweet, Mally's modest and discreet, Mally's rare, Mally's fair, Mally's every way complete.