Without my love, not a’ the charms O’ Paradise could yield me joy; But gie me Jeanie in my arms, And welcome Lapland’s dreary sky! My cave wad be a lover’s bower, Tho’ raging winter rent the air; And she a lovely little flower, That I wad tent and shelter there. O sweet is she in yon town, Yon sinkin sun’s gane down upon; A fairer than’s in yon town, His setting beam ne’er shone upon. If angry fate is sworn my foe, And suffering I am doom’d to bear; I careless quit all else below, But spare, O spare me Jeanie dear. For while life’s dearest blood is warm, Ae thought frae her shall ne’er depart, And she—as fairest is her form, She has the truest, kindest heart. O THIS IS NO MY AIN LASSIE I see a form, I see a face, Ye weel may wi’ the fairest place: It wants, to me, the witching grace, The kind love that’s in her e’e. O this is no my ain lassie, Fair tho’ the lassie be; O weel ken I my ain lassie, Kind love is in her e’e. She’s bonnie, blooming, straight, and tall, And lang has had my heart in thrall; And aye it charms my very saul, The kind love that’s in her e’e. A thief sae pawkie is my Jean, To steal a blink, by a’ unseen; But gleg as light are lovers’ e’en, When kind love is in the e’e. It may escape the courtly sparks, It may escape the learnèd clerks; But weel the watching lover marks The kind love that’s in her e’e. I’LL AYE CA’ IN BY YON TOWN I’ll aye ca’ in by yon town, And by yon garden green again; I’ll aye ca’ in by yon town, And see my bonnie Jean again. There’s nane sall ken, there’s nane sall guess, What brings me back the gate again, But she, my fairest faithfu’ lass, And stownlins we sall meet again. She’ll wander by the aiken tree When trystin-time draws near again; And when her lovely form I see, O haith, she’s doubly dear again! THE AULD FARMER’S NEW-YEAR MORNING SALUTATION TO HIS AULD MARE, MAGGIE, ON GIVING HER THE ACCUSTOMED RIPP OF CORN TO HANSEL IN THE NEW YEAR A guid New-Year I wish thee, Maggie! Hae, there’s a ripp to thy auld baggie: Tho’ thou’s howe-backit now, an’ knaggie, I’ve seen the day, Thou could hae gane like ony staggie Out-owre the lay. Tho’ now thou’s dowie, stiff, an’ crazy, An’ thy auld hide’s as white’s a daisie, I’ve seen thee dappled, sleek an’ glaizie, A bonnie gray: He should been tight that daur’t to raize thee, Ance in a day.