The Complete Works of Robert Burns
Chapter 102 : A man may drink and no be drunk; A man may fight and no be slain; A man may kiss a bon

A man may drink and no be drunk; A man may fight and no be slain; A man may kiss a bonnie la.s.s, And ay be welcome back again.

XLVII.

THENIEL MENZIES' BONNIE MARY.

Tune.--"_The Ruffian's Rant._"

[Burns, it is believed, wrote this song during his first Highland tour, when he danced among the northern dames, to the tune of "Bab at the Bowster," till the morning sun rose and reproved them from the top of Ben Lomond.]

I.

In coming by the brig o' Dye, At Darlet we a blink did tarry; As day was dawin in the sky, We drank a health to bonnie Mary.

Theniel Menzies' bonnie Mary; Theniel Menzies' bonnie Mary; Charlie Gregor tint his plaidie, Kissin' Theniel's bonnie Mary.

II.

Her een sae bright, her brow sae white, Her haffet locks as brown's a berry; And ay, they dimpl't wi' a smile, The rosy checks o' bonnie Mary.

III.

We lap and danced the lee lang day, Till piper lads were wae and weary; But Charlie gat the spring to pay, For kissin' Theniel's bonnie Mary.

Theniel Menzies' bonnie Mary; Theniel Menzies' bonnie Mary; Charlie Gregor tint his plaidie, Kissin' Theniel's bonnie Mary.

XLVIII.

THE BANKS OF THE DEVON.

Tune.--"_Bhannerach dhon na chri._"

[These verses were composed on a charming young lady, Charlotte Hamilton, sister to the poet's friend, Gavin Hamilton of Mauchline, residing, when the song was written, at Harvieston, on the banks of the Devon, in the county of Clackmannan.]

I.

How pleasant the banks of the clear winding Devon, With green spreading bushes, and flowers blooming fair!

But the bonniest flower on the banks of the Devon Was once a sweet bud on the braes of the Ayr.

Mild be the sun on this sweet blus.h.i.+ng flower, In the gay rosy morn, as it bathes in the dew; And gentle the fall of the soft vernal shower, That steals on the evening each leaf to renew.

II.

O spare the dear blossom, ye orient breezes, With chill h.o.a.ry wing, as ye usher the dawn; And far be thou distant, thou reptile that seizes The verdure and pride of the garden and lawn!

Let Bourbon exult in his gay gilded Lilies, And England, triumphant, display her proud Rose: A fairer than either adorns the green valleys, Where Devon, sweet Devon, meandering flows.

XLIX.

WEARY FA' YOU, DUNCAN GRAY.

Tune--"_Duncan Gray._"

[The original Duncan Gray, out of which the present strain was extracted for Johnson, had no right to be called a lad of grace: another version, and in a happier mood, was written for Thomson.]

I.

Weary fa' you, Duncan Gray-- Ha, ha, the girdin o't!

Wae gae by you, Duncan Gray-- Ha, ha, the girdin o't!

When a' the lave gae to their play, Then I maun sit the lee lang day, And jog the cradle wi' my tae, And a' for the girdin o't!

II.

Bonnie was the Lammas moon-- Ha, ha, the girdin o't!

Glowrin' a' the hills aboon-- Ha, ha, the girdin o't!

The girdin brak, the beast cam down, I tint my curch, and baith my shoon; Ah! Duncan, ye're an unco loon-- Wae on the bad girdin o't!

III.

But, Duncan, gin ye'll keep your aith-- Ha, ha, the girdin o't!

I'se bless you wi' my hindmost breath-- Ha, ha, the girdin o't!

Duncan, gin ye'll keep your aith, The beast again can bear us baith, And auld Mess John will mend the skaith, And clout the bad girdin o't.

L.

THE PLOUGHMAN.

Tune--"_Up wi' the ploughman._"

[The old words, of which these in the Museum are an altered and amended version, are in the collection of Herd.]