UP IN THE MORNING EARLY
Tune--"_Cold blows the wind._"
["The chorus of this song," says the poet, in his notes on the Scottish Lyrics, "is old, the two stanzas are mine." The air is ancient, and was a favourite of Mary Stuart, the queen of William the Third.]
CHORUS.
Up in the morning"s no for me, Up in the morning early; When a" the hills are cover"d wi" snaw, I"m sure it"s winter fairly.
I.
Cauld blaws the wind frae east to west, The drift is driving sairly; Sae loud and shill I hear the blast, I"m sure it"s winter fairly.
II.
The birds sit chittering in the thorn, A" day they fare but sparely; And lang"s the night frae e"en to morn-- I"m sure it"s winter fairly.
Up in the morning"s no for me, Up in the morning early; When a" the hills are cover"d wi" snaw, I"m sure it"s winter fairly.
XLIV.
THE
YOUNG HIGHLAND ROVER.
Tune--"_Morag._"
[The Young Highland Rover of this strain is supposed by some to be the Chevalier, and with more probability by others, to be a Gordon, as the song was composed in consequence of the poet"s visit to "bonnie Castle-Gordon," in September, 1787.]
I.
Loud blaw the frosty breezes, The snaws the mountains cover; Like winter on me seizes, Since my young Highland rover Far wanders nations over.
Where"er he go, where"er he stray.
May Heaven be his warden: Return him safe to fair Strathspey, And bonnie Castle-Gordon!
II.
The trees now naked groaning, Shall Soon wi" leaves be hinging.
The birdies dowie moaning, Shall a" be blithely singing, And every flower be springing.
Sae I"ll rejoice the lee-lang day When by his mighty Warden My youth"s returned to fair Strathspey, And bonnie Castle-Gordon.
XLV.
HEY, THE DUSTY MILLER
Tune--"_The Dusty Miller._"
[The Dusty Miller is an old strain, modified for the Museum by Burns: it is a happy specimen of his taste and skill in making the new look like the old.]
I.
Hey, the dusty miller, And his dusty coat; He will win a shilling, Or he spend a groat.
Dusty was the coat, Dusty was the colour, Dusty was the kiss That I got frae the miller.
II.
Hey, the dusty miller, And his dusty sack; Leeze me on the calling Fills the dusty peck.
Fills the dusty peck, Brings the dusty siller; I wad gie my coatie For the dusty miller.
XLVI.
THERE WAS A La.s.s.
Tune--"_Duncan Davison._"
[There are several other versions of Duncan Davison, which it is more delicate to allude to than to quote: this one is in the Museum.]
I.
There was a la.s.s, they ca"d her Meg, And she held o"er the moors to spin; There was a lad that follow"d her, They ca"d him Duncan Davison.
The moor was driegh, and Meg was skiegh, Her favour Duncan could na win; For wi" the roke she wad him knock.
And ay she shook the temper-pin.
II.
As o"er the moor they lightly foor, A burn was clear, a glen was green, Upon the banks they eas"d-their shanks, And ay she set the wheel between: But Duncan swore a haly aith, That Meg should be a bride the morn, Then Meg took up her spinnin" graith, And flang them a" out o"er the burn.
III.
We"ll big a house,--a wee, wee house, And we will live like king and queen, Sae blythe and merry we will be When ye set by the wheel at e"en.