Page:The poetical works of Robert Burns.djvu/336
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THE SONGS OF BURNS.
ADDRESS TO GENERAL DUMOURIER.
A PARODY ON ROBIN ADAIR.
You're welcome to Despots, Dumourier;
You're welcome to Despots, Dumourier;
How does Dampiere do?
Aye, and Bournonville too?
Why did they not come along with you, Dumourier?
You're welcome to Despots, Dumourier;
How does Dampiere do?
Aye, and Bournonville too?
Why did they not come along with you, Dumourier?
I will fight France with you, Dumourier;
I will fight France with you, Dumourier;
I will fight France with you,
I will take my chance with you;
By my soul I'll dance a dance with you, Dumourier.
I will fight France with you, Dumourier;
I will fight France with you,
I will take my chance with you;
By my soul I'll dance a dance with you, Dumourier.
Then let us fight about, Dumourier;
Then let us fight about, Dumourier;
Then let us fight about,
Till freedom's spark is out,
Then we'll be damn'd no doubt—Dumourier.
Then let us fight about, Dumourier;
Then let us fight about,
Till freedom's spark is out,
Then we'll be damn'd no doubt—Dumourier.
ONE NIGHT AS I DID WANDER.
TUNE—'JOHN ANDERSON MY JO.'
One night as I did wander,
When corn begins to shoot,
I sat me down to ponder,
Upon an auld tree root:
When corn begins to shoot,
I sat me down to ponder,
Upon an auld tree root:
Auld Ayre ran by before me,
And bicker'd to the seas;
A cushat crooded o'er me
That echoed through the braes.
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And bicker'd to the seas;
A cushat crooded o'er me
That echoed through the braes.
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I'M OWRE YOUNG TO MARRY YET.
I am my mammie's ae bairn,
Wi' unco folk I weary, Sir;
And lying in a man's bed,
I'm fley'd wad mak me eerie, Sir.
Wi' unco folk I weary, Sir;
And lying in a man's bed,
I'm fley'd wad mak me eerie, Sir.
CHORUS.
I'm owre young, I'm owre young,
I'm owre young to marry yet;
I'm owre young, 'twad be a sin
To tak me frae my mammie yet.
I'm owre young, I'm owre young,
I'm owre young to marry yet;
I'm owre young, 'twad be a sin
To tak me frae my mammie yet.
My mammie coft me a new gown,
The kirk maun hae the gracing o't;
Were I to lie wi' you, kind Sir,
I'm fear'd ye'd spoil the lacing o't.
I'm owre young, &c.
The kirk maun hae the gracing o't;
Were I to lie wi' you, kind Sir,
I'm fear'd ye'd spoil the lacing o't.
I'm owre young, &c.
Hallowmas is come and gane,
The nights are lang in winter, Sir;
And you an' I in ae bed,
In troth I dare na venture, Sir.
I'm owre young, &c.
The nights are lang in winter, Sir;
And you an' I in ae bed,
In troth I dare na venture, Sir.
I'm owre young, &c.
Fu' loud and shrill the frosty wind
Blaws thro' the leafless timmer, Sir;
But if ye come this gate again,
I'll aulder be gin simmer, Sir.
I'm owre young, &c.
Blaws thro' the leafless timmer, Sir;
But if ye come this gate again,
I'll aulder be gin simmer, Sir.
I'm owre young, &c.
DAMON AND SYLVIA.
TUNE—'THE TITHER MORN, AS I FORLORN.'
Yon wand'ring rill, that marks the hill,
And glances o'er the brae, Sir:
Slides by a bower where monie a flower
Sheds fragrance on the day, Sir.
And glances o'er the brae, Sir:
Slides by a bower where monie a flower
Sheds fragrance on the day, Sir.
There Damon lay, with Sylvia gay:
To love they thought nae crime, Sir;
The wild-birds sang, the echoes rang,
While Damon's heart beat time, Sir.
To love they thought nae crime, Sir;
The wild-birds sang, the echoes rang,
While Damon's heart beat time, Sir.