The sun peeps ower yon southland hills, Like ony timorous carlie; Just blinks a wee, then sinks again; And that we find severely. Now, up in the mornin's no for me, Up in the mornin' early; When snaw blaws in at the chimley cheek, Wha 'd rise in the mornin' early? Nae linties lilt on hedge or bush: Poor things! they suffer sairly; In cauldrife quarters a' the nicht, A' day they feed but sparely. Now, up in the mornin's no for me, Up in the mornin' early; A pennyless purse I wad rather dree, Than rise in the mornin' early. A cosie house and canty wife Aye keep a body cheerly; And pantries stowed wi' meat and drink, They answer unco rarely. But up in the mornin'--na, na, na! Up in the mornin' early! The gowans maun glint on bank and brae When I rise in the mornin' early. [25] Burns composed two verses to the same tune, which is very old. It was a favourite of Queen Mary, the consort of William III. In his "Beggar's Opera," Gay has adopted the tune for one of his songs. It was published, in 1652, by John Hilton, as the third voice to what is called a "Northern Catch" for three voices, beginning--"I'se gae wi' thee, my sweet Peggy." GO TO BERWICK, JOHNNIE.[26] Go to Berwick, Johnnie; Bring her frae the Border; Yon sweet bonnie lassie, Let her gae nae farther. English loons will twine ye O' the lovely treasure; But we 'll let them ken A sword wi' them we 'll measure. Go to Berwick, Johnnie, And regain your honour; Drive them ower the Tweed, And show our Scottish banner. I am Rob, the King, And ye are Jock, my brither; But, before we lose her, We 'll a' there thegither. [26] These stanzas are founded on some lines of old doggerel, beginning-- "Go, go, go, Go to Berwick, Johnnie; Thou shalt have the horse, And I shall have the pony." MISS FORBES' FAREWELL TO BANFF. Farewell, ye fields an' meadows green! The blest retreats of peace an' love; Aft have I, silent, stolen from hence, With my young swain a while to rove. Sweet was our walk, more sweet our talk, Among the beauties of the spring; An' aft we 'd lean us on a bank, To hear the feather'd warblers sing. The azure sky, the hills around, Gave double beauty to the scene; The lofty spires of Banff in view-- On every side the waving grain. The tales of love my Jamie told, In such a saft an' moving strain, Have so engaged my tender heart, I 'm loth to leave the place again. But if the Fates will be sae kind As favour my return once more, For to enjoy the peace of mind In those retreats I had before: Now, farewell, Banff! the nimble steeds Do bear me hence--I must away; Yet time, perhaps, may bring me back, To part nae mair from scenes so gay.