There 's walth ower yon green lea-rig, My ain kind dearie, O! There 's walth ower yon green lea-rig, My ain kind dearie, O! Its neither land, nor gowd, nor braws-- Let them gang tapsle teerie, O! It 's walth o' peace, o' love, and truth, My ain kind dearie, O! [51] The first two lines of this song are borrowed from the "Lea-Rig," a lively and popular lyric, of which the first two verses were composed by Robert Fergusson, the three remaining being added by William Reid of Glasgow. (See _ante_, article "William Reid.") HE'S LIFELESS AMANG THE RUDE BILLOWS. AIR--_"The Muckin' o' Geordie's Byre."_ He 's lifeless amang the rude billows, My tears and my sighs are in vain; The heart that beat warm for his Jeanie, Will ne'er beat for mortal again. My lane now I am i' the warld, And the daylight is grievous to me; The laddie that lo'ed me sae dearly Lies cauld in the deeps o' the sea. Ye tempests, sae boist'rously raging, Rage on as ye list--or be still; This heart ye sae often hae sicken'd, Is nae mair the sport o' your will. Now heartless, I hope not--I fear not,-- High Heaven hae pity on me! My soul, tho' dismay'd and distracted, Yet bends to thy awful decree. JOY OF MY EARLIEST DAYS. AIR--_"I'll never leave thee."_ Joy of my earliest days, Why must I grieve thee? Theme of my fondest lays, Oh, I maun leave thee! Leave thee, love! leave thee, love! How shall I leave thee? Absence thy truth will prove, For, oh! I maun leave thee! When on yon mossy stane, Wild weeds o'ergrowin', Ye sit at e'en your lane, And hear the burn rowin'; Oh! think on this partin' hour, Down by the Garry, And to Him that has a' the pow'r, Commend me, my Mary! OH, WEEL'S ME ON MY AIN MAN. AIR--_"Landlady count the lawin'."_ Oh, weel's me on my ain man, My ain man, my ain man! Oh, weel's me on my ain gudeman! He 'll aye be welcome hame. I 'm wae I blamed him yesternight, For now my heart is feather light; For gowd I wadna gie the sight; I see him linking ower the height. Oh, weel's me on my ain man, &c. Rin, Jamie, bring the kebbuck ben, And fin' aneath the speckled hen; Meg, rise and sweep about the fire, Syne cry on Johnnie frae the byre. For weel's me on my ain man, My ain man, my ain man! For weel's me on my ain gudeman! I see him linkin' hame. KIND ROBIN LOE'S ME.[52] Robin is my ain gudeman, Now match him, carlins, gin ye can, For ilk ane whitest thinks her swan, But kind Robin lo'es me. To mak my boast I 'll e'en be bauld, For Robin lo'ed me young and auld, In summer's heat and winter's cauld, My kind Robin lo'es me.