XV.

A FRAGMENT.

Tune--"_John Anderson my jo._"

[This verse, written early, and probably intended for the starting verse of a song, was found among the papers of the poet.]

One night as I did wander, When corn begins to shoot, I sat me down to ponder, Upon an auld tree root: Auld Ayr ran by before me, And bicker'd to the seas; A cushat crooded o'er me, That echoed thro' the braes.

XVI.

BONNIE PEGGY ALISON.

Tune--"_Braes o' Balquihidder._"

[On those whom Burns loved, he poured out songs without limit. Peggy Alison is said, by a western tradition, to be Montgomery's Peggy, but this seems doubtful.]

CHORUS.

I'll kiss thee yet, yet, An' I'll kiss thee o'er again; An' I'll kiss thee yet, yet, My bonnie Peggy Alison!

I.

Ilk care and fear, when thou art near, I ever mair defy them, O; Young kings upon their hansel throne Are no sae blest as I am, O!

II.

When in my arms, wi' a' thy charms, I clasp my countless treasure, O, I seek nae mair o' Heaven to share Than sic a moment's pleasure, O!

III.

And by thy een, sae bonnie blue, I swear, I'm thine for ever, O!-- And on thy lips I seal my vow, And break it shall I never, O!

I'll kiss thee yet, yet, An' I'll kiss thee o'er again; An' I'll kiss thee yet, yet, My bonnie Peggy Alison!

XVII.

THERE'S NOUGHT BUT CARE.

Tune--"_Green grow the rashes._"

["Man was made when nature was but an apprentice; but woman is the last and most perfect work of nature," says an old writer, in a rare old book: a pa.s.sage which expresses the sentiment of Burns; yet it is all but certain, that the Ploughman Bard was unacquainted with "Cupid's Whirlygig," where these words are to be found.]

CHORUS.

Green grow the rashes, O!

Green grow the rashes, O!

The sweetest hours that e'er I spend Are spent amang the la.s.ses, O.

I.

There's nought but care on ev'ry han', In every hour that pa.s.ses, O: What signifies the life o' man, An' 'twere na for the la.s.ses, O.

II.

The warly race may riches chase, An' riches still may fly them, O; An' tho' at last they catch them fast, Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O.

III.

But gie me a canny hour at e'en, My arms about my dearie, O; An' warly cares, an' warly men, May a' gae tapsalteerie, O.

IV.

For you sae douce, ye sneer at this, Ye're nought but senseless a.s.ses, O: The wisest man the warl' e'er saw, He dearly lov'd the la.s.ses, O.

V.

Auld Nature swears the lovely dears Her n.o.blest work she cla.s.ses, O: Her 'prentice han' she try'd on man, An' then she made the la.s.ses, O.

Green grow the rashes, O!

Green grow the rashes, O!

The sweetest hours that e'er I spend Are spent amang the la.s.ses, O.

XVIII.

MY JEAN!

Tune--"_The Northern La.s.s._"

[The lady on whom this pa.s.sionate verse was written was Jean Armour.]