Page:The poetical works of Robert Burns.djvu/300
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THE SONGS OF BURNS.
ADOWN WINDING NITH.
TUNE—'THE MUCKIN O' GEORDIE'S BYRE.'
Adown winding Nith I did wander,
To mark the sweet flowers as they spring;
Adown winding Nith I did wander,
Of Phillis to muse and to sing.
To mark the sweet flowers as they spring;
Adown winding Nith I did wander,
Of Phillis to muse and to sing.
CHORUS.
Awa wi' your belles and your beauties,
They never wi' her can compare;
Whaever has met wi' my Phillis,
Has met wi' the queen o' the fair.
Awa wi' your belles and your beauties,
They never wi' her can compare;
Whaever has met wi' my Phillis,
Has met wi' the queen o' the fair.
The daisy amus'd my fond fancy,
So artless, so simple, so wild;
Thou emblem, said I, o' my Phillis,
For she is Simplicity's child.
Awa, &c.
So artless, so simple, so wild;
Thou emblem, said I, o' my Phillis,
For she is Simplicity's child.
Awa, &c.
The rose-bud's the blush o' my charmer,
Her sweet balmy lip when 'tis prest:
How fair and how pure is the lily,
But fairer and purer her breast.
Awa, &c.
Her sweet balmy lip when 'tis prest:
How fair and how pure is the lily,
But fairer and purer her breast.
Awa, &c.
Yon knot of gay flowers in the arbour,
They ne'er wi' my Phillis can vie:
Her breath is the breath o' the woodbine,
Its dew-drop o' diamond, her eye.
Awa', &c.
They ne'er wi' my Phillis can vie:
Her breath is the breath o' the woodbine,
Its dew-drop o' diamond, her eye.
Awa', &c.
Her voice is the song of the morning
That wakes through the green-spreading grove
When Phœbus peeps over the mountains,
On music, and pleasure, and love.
Awa, &c.
That wakes through the green-spreading grove
When Phœbus peeps over the mountains,
On music, and pleasure, and love.
Awa, &c.
But beauty how frail and how fleeting,
The bloom of a fine summer's day!
While worth in the mind o' my Phillis
Will flourish without a decay.
Awa, &c.
The bloom of a fine summer's day!
While worth in the mind o' my Phillis
Will flourish without a decay.
Awa, &c.
MY CHLORIS.
TUNE—'MY LODGING IS ON THE COLD GROUND.'
My Chloris, mark how green the groves,
The primrose banks how fair:
The balmy gales awake the flowers,
And wave thy flaxen hair.
The primrose banks how fair:
The balmy gales awake the flowers,
And wave thy flaxen hair.
The lav'rock shuns the palace gay,
And o'er the cottage sings:
For nature smiles as sweet, I ween,
To shepherds as to kings.
And o'er the cottage sings:
For nature smiles as sweet, I ween,
To shepherds as to kings.
Let minstrels sweep the skilfu' string
In lordly lighted ha';
The shepherd stops his simple reed,
Blithe, in the birken shaw.
In lordly lighted ha';
The shepherd stops his simple reed,
Blithe, in the birken shaw.
The princely revel may survey
Our rustic dance wi' scorn;
But are their hearts as light as ours
Beneath the milk-white thorn?
Our rustic dance wi' scorn;
But are their hearts as light as ours
Beneath the milk-white thorn?
The shepherd, in the flowery glen,
In shepherd's phrase will woo:
The courtier tells a finer tale,
But is his heart as true?
In shepherd's phrase will woo:
The courtier tells a finer tale,
But is his heart as true?
These wild-wood flowers I've pu'd, to deck
That spotless breast o' thine:
The courtiers' gems may witness love―
But 'tis na love like mine.
That spotless breast o' thine:
The courtiers' gems may witness love―
But 'tis na love like mine.