The Complete Works of Robert Burns
Chapter 138 : II.Trumpets sound, and cannons roar, Bonnie la.s.sie; Lowland la.s.sie; And a' th

II.

Trumpets sound, and cannons roar, Bonnie la.s.sie; Lowland la.s.sie; And a' the hills wi' echoes roar, Bonnie Lowland la.s.sie.

Glory, honour, now invite, Bonnie la.s.sie, Lowland la.s.sie, For freedom and my king to fight, Bonnie Lowland la.s.sie.

III.

The sun a backward course shall take, Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie, Ere aught thy manly courage shake, Bonnie Highland laddie.

Go, for yourself procure renown, Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie; And for your lawful king, his crown, Bonnie Highland laddie.

CLXVI.

ANNA, THY CHARMS.

Tune--"_Bonnie Mary._"

[The heroine of this short, sweet song is unknown: it was inserted in the third edition of his Poems.]

Anna, thy charms my bosom fire, And waste my soul with care; But ah! how bootless to admire, When fated to despair!

Yet in thy presence, lovely fair, To hope may be forgiv'n; For sure 'twere impious to despair, So much in sight of Heav'n.

CLXVII.

Ca.s.sILLIS' BANKS.

Tune--[unknown.]

[It is supposed that "Highland Mary," who lived sometime on Ca.s.sillis's banks, is the heroine of these verses.]

I.

Now bank an' brae are claith'd in green, An' scattered cowslips sweetly spring; By Girvan's fairy-haunted stream, The birdies flit on wanton wing.

To Ca.s.sillis' banks when e'ening fa's, There wi' my Mary let me flee, There catch her ilka glance of love, The bonnie blink o' Mary's e'e!

II.

The chield wha boasts o' warld's walth Is aften laird o' meikle care; But Mary she is a' my ain-- Ah! fortune canna gie me mair.

Then let me range by Ca.s.sillis' banks, Wi' her, the la.s.sie dear to me, And catch her ilka glance o' love, The bonnie blink o' Mary's e'e!

CLXVIII.

TO THEE, LOVED NITH.

Tune--[unknown.]

[There are several variations extant of these verses, and among others one which transfers the praise from the Nith to the Dee: but to the Dee, if the poet spoke in his own person, no such influences could belong.]

I.

To thee, lov'd Nith, thy gladsome plains, Where late wi' careless thought I rang'd, Though prest wi' care and sunk in woe, To thee I bring a heart unchang'd.

II.

I love thee, Nith, thy banks and braes, Tho' mem'ry there my bosom tear; For there he rov'd that brake my heart, Yet to that heart, ah! still how dear!

CLXIX.

BANNOCKS O' BARLEY.

Tune--"_The Killogie._"

["This song is in the Museum," says Sir Harris Nicolas, "but without Burns's name." Burns took up an old song, and letting some of the old words stand, infused a Jacobite spirit into it, wrote it out, and sent it to the Museum.]

I.

Bannocks o' bear meal, Bannocks o' barley; Here's to the Highlandman's Bannocks o' barley.

Wha in a brulzie Will first cry a parley?

Never the lads wi'

The bannocks o' barley.

II.

Bannocks o' bear meal, Bannocks o' barley; Here's to the lads wi'

The bannocks o' barley.

Wha in his wae-days Were loyal to Charlie?

Wha but the lads wi'