Tho’ here they scrape, an’ squeeze, an’ growl, Their worthless nievefu’ of a soul May in some future carcase howl, The forest’s fright; Or in some day-detesting owl May shun the light. Then may Lapraik and Burns arise, To reach their native kindred skies, And sing their pleasures, hopes, an’ joys, In some mild sphere, Still closer knit in friendship’s ties Each passing year! THE BONNIE LAD THAT’S FAR AWA O how can I be blithe and glad, Or how can I gang brisk and braw, When the bonnie lad that I lo’e best Is o’er the hills and far awa? It’s no the frosty winter wind, It’s no the driving drift and snaw; But aye the tear comes in my e’e, To think on him that’s far awa. My father pat me frae his door, My friends they hae disown’d me a’: But I hae ane will tak my part, The bonnie lad that’s far awa. A pair o’ gloves he bought to me, And silken snoods he gae me twa; And I will wear them for his sake, The bonnie lad that’s far awa. O weary winter soon will pass, And spring will cleed the birken shaw: And my young babie will be born, And he’ll be hame that’s far awa. OF A’ THE AIRTS Of a’ the airts the wind can blaw, I dearly like the west, For there the bonnie lassie lives, The lassie I lo’e best: There’s wild woods grow, and rivers row, And mony a hill between; But day and night my fancy’s flight Is ever wi’ my Jean. I see her in the dewy flowers, I see her sweet and fair: I hear her in the tunefu’ birds, I hear her charm the air: There’s not a bonnie flower that springs By fountain, shaw, or green; There’s not a bonnie bird that sings, But minds me o’ my Jean. [Illustration: There’s wild woods grow, and rivers row, And mony a hill between; But day and night my fancy’s flight Is ever wi’ my Jean.] IT IS NA, JEAN, THY BONNIE FACE It is na, Jean, thy bonnie face, Nor shape that I admire, Although thy beauty and thy grace Might weel awake desire. Something, in ilka part o’ thee, To praise, to love, I find; But dear as is thy form to me, Still dearer is thy mind. Nae mair ungenerous wish I hae, Nor stronger in my breast, Than if I canna mak thee sae, At least to see thee blest. Content am I, if Heaven shall give But happiness to thee: And as wi’ thee I’d wish to live, For thee I’d bear to die. I HAE A WIFE I hae a wife o’ my ain, I’ll partake wi’ naebody; I’ll tak cuckold frae nane, I’ll gie cuckold to naebody.