If Colin’s weel, and weel content, 45 I hae nae mair to crave: And gin I live to keep him sae, I’m blest aboon the lave: And will I see his face again, And will I hear him speak? 50 I’m downright dizzy wi’ the thought, In troth I’m like to greet. For there’s nae luck about the house, There’s nae luck at a’; There’s little pleasure in the house, 55 When our gudeman’s awa’. _William Julius Mickle._ CLIV _THE BANKS OF DOON._ Ye banks and braes o’ bonnie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fair! How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae fu’ o’ care! Thou’ll break my heart, thou bonnie bird 5 That sings upon the bough; Thou minds me o’ the happy days When my fause Luve was true. Thou’ll break my heart, thou bonnie bird That sings beside thy mate; 10 For sae I sat, and sae I sang, And wist na o’ my fate. Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon To see the woodbine twine, And ilka bird sang o’ its love; 15 And sae did I o’ mine. Wi’ lightsome heart I pu’d a rose, Frae aff its thorny tree; And my fause luver staw the rose, But left the thorn wi’ me. 20 _Robert Burns._ CLV _THE BRAES OF YARROW._ A. ‘Busk ye, busk ye, my bonnie, bonnie bride, Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow, Busk ye, busk ye, my bonnie, bonnie bride, And think nae mair of the braes of Yarrow.’ B. ‘Where gat ye that bonnie, bonnie bride, 5 Where gat ye that winsome marrow?’ A. ‘I gat her where I daurna weel be seen, Pu’ing the birks on the braes of Yarrow.’ ‘Weep not, weep not, my bonnie, bonnie bride, Weep not, weep not, my winsome marrow, 10 Nor let thy heart lament to leave Pu’ing the birks on the braes of Yarrow.’ B. ‘Why does she weep, thy bonnie, bonnie bride? Why does she weep, thy winsome marrow? And why daur ye nae mair well be seen 15 Pu’ing the birks on the braes of Yarrow?’ A. ‘Lang maun she weep, lang lang maun she weep, Lang maun she weep wi’ dule and sorrow, And lang maun I nae mair weel be seen Pu’ing the birks on the braes of Yarrow. 20 ‘For she has tint her lover dear, Her lover dear, the cause of sorrow; And I ha’e slain the comeliest swain That ever pu’ed birks on the braes of Yarrow. ‘Why runs thy stream, O Yarrow, reid? 25 Why on thy braes heard the voice of sorrow? And why yon melancholious weeds, Hung on the bonnie birks of Yarrow?