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Robert Burns: Inscription To Miss Jessy Lewars: On a copy of the Scots Musical Museum, in four volumes, presented to her by Burns.

Inscription To Miss Jessy Lewars On a copy of the Scots Musical Museum, in four volumes, presented to her by Burns.

Type: Inscription

Thine be the volumes, Jessy fair,
And with them take the Poet’s prayer,
That Fate may, in her fairest page,
With ev’ry kindliest, best presage
Of future bliss, enroll thy name:
With native worth and spotless fame,
And wakeful caution, still aware
Of ill-but chief, Man’s felon snare;

All blameless joys on earth we find,
And all the treasures of the mind-
These be thy guardian and reward;
So prays thy faithful friend, the Bard.

Dumfries, June 26, 1769.

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Robert Burns: O Wert Thou In The Cauld Blast:

O Wert Thou In The Cauld Blast

 

Type: Poem

O wert thou in the cauld blast,
On yonder lea, on yonder lea,
My plaidie to the angry airt,
I’d shelter thee, I’d shelter thee;
Or did Misfortune’s bitter storms
Around thee blaw, around thee blaw,
Thy bield should be my bosom,
To share it a’, to share it a’.

Or were I in the wildest waste,
Sae black and bare, sae black and bare,
The desert were a Paradise,
If thou wert there, if thou wert there;
Or were I Monarch o’ the globe,
Wi’ thee to reign, wi’ thee to reign,
The brightest jewel in my Crown
Wad be my Queen, wad be my Queen.

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Robert Burns: A Health To Ane I Loe Dear:

A Health To Ane I Loe Dear

 

Type: Poem

Chorus-Here’s a health to ane I loe dear,
Here’s a health to ane I loe dear;
Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet,
And soft as their parting tear-Jessy.

Altho’ thou maun never be mine,
Altho’ even hope is denied;
‘Tis sweeter for thee despairing,
Than ought in the world beside-Jessy.
Here’s a health, &c.

I mourn thro’ the gay, gaudy day,
As hopeless I muse on thy charms;
But welcome the dream o’ sweet slumber,
For then I am lockt in thine arms-Jessy.
Here’s a health, &c.

I guess by the dear angel smile,
I guess by the love-rolling e’e;
But why urge the tender confession,
‘Gainst Fortune’s fell, cruel decree?-Jessy.
Here’s a health, &c.

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Robert Burns: O Lay Thy Loof In Mine, Lass:

O Lay Thy Loof In Mine, Lass

 

Type: Poem

Chorus-O lay thy loof in mine, lass,
In mine, lass, in mine, lass;
And swear on thy white hand, lass,
That thou wilt be my ain.

A slave to Love’s unbounded sway,
He aft has wrought me meikle wae;
But now he is my deadly fae,
Unless thou be my ain.
O lay thy loof, &c.

There’s mony a lass has broke my rest,
That for a blink I hae lo’ed best;
But thou art Queen within my breast,
For ever to remain.
O lay thy loof, &c.

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Robert Burns: Complimentary Versicles To Jessie Lewars: On Her Recovery

Complimentary Versicles To Jessie Lewars On Her Recovery

Type: Poem

But rarely seen since Nature’s birth,
The natives of the sky;
Yet still one seraph’s left on earth,
For Jessie did not die.

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Robert Burns: Complimentary Versicles To Jessie Lewars: Jessie’s illness

Complimentary Versicles To Jessie Lewars Jessie’s illness

Type: Poem

Say, sages, what’s the charm on earth
Can turn Death’s dart aside!
It is not purity and worth,
Else Jessie had not died.

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Robert Burns: Complimentary Versicles To Jessie Lewars: The Menagerie

Complimentary Versicles To Jessie Lewars The Menagerie

Type: Poem

Talk not to me of savages,
From Afric’s burning sun;
No savage e’er could rend my heart,
As Jessie, thou hast done:
But Jessie’s lovely hand in mine,
A mutual faith to plight,
Not even to view the heavenly choir,
Would be so blest a sight.

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Robert Burns: Complimentary Versicles To Jessie Lewars: The Toast

Complimentary Versicles To Jessie Lewars The Toast

Type: Poem

Fill me with the rosy wine,
Call a toast, a toast divine:
Giveth me Poet’s darling flame,
Lovely Jessie be her name;
Then thou mayest freely boast,
Thou hast given a peerless toast.

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Robert Burns: The Trogger.: Heron Election Ballad, No. IV.

The Trogger. Heron Election Ballad, No. IV.

Type: Song
Tune: Buy Broom Besoms.

Wha will buy my troggin, fine election ware,
Broken trade o’ Broughton, a’ in high repair?

Chorus-Buy braw troggin frae the banks o’ Dee;
Wha wants troggin let him come to me.

There’s a noble Earl’s fame and high renown,
For an auld sang-it’s thought the gudes were stown-
Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here’s the worth o’ Broughton in a needle’s e’e;
Here’s a reputation tint by Balmaghie.
Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here’s its stuff and lining, Cardoness’ head,
Fine for a soger, a’ the wale o’ lead.
Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here’s a little wadset, Buittle’s scrap o’ truth,
Pawn’d in a gin-shop, quenching holy drouth.
Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here’s an honest conscience might a prince adorn;
Frae the downs o’ Tinwald, so was never worn.
Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here’s armorial bearings frae the manse o’ Urr;
The crest, a sour crab-apple, rotten at the core.
Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here’s the worth and wisdom Collieston can boast;
By a thievish midge they had been nearly lost.
Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here is Satan’s picture, like a bizzard gled,
Pouncing poor Redcastle, sprawlin’ like a taed.
Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here’s the font where Douglas stane and mortar names;
Lately used at Caily christening Murray’s crimes.
Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here is Murray’s fragments o’ the ten commands;
Gifted by black Jock to get them aff his hands.
Buy braw troggin, &c.

Saw ye e’er sic troggin? if to buy ye’re slack,
Hornie’s turnin chapman – he’ll buy a’ the pack.
Buy braw troggin, &c.

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Robert Burns: A Lass Wi’ A Tocher:

A Lass Wi’ A Tocher

 

Type: Song
Tune: Ballinamona Ora.

Awa’ wi’ your witchcraft o’ Beauty’s alarms,
The slender bit Beauty you grasp in your arms,
O, gie me the lass that has acres o’ charms,
O, gie me the lass wi’ the weel-stockit farms.

Chorus-Then hey, for a lass wi’ a tocher,
Then hey, for a lass wi’ a tocher;
Then hey, for a lass wi’ a tocher;
The nice yellow guineas for me.

Your Beauty’s a flower in the morning that blows,
And withers the faster, the faster it grows:
But the rapturous charm o’ the bonie green knowes,
Ilk spring they’re new deckit wi’ bonie white yowes.
Then hey, for a lass, &c.

And e’en when this Beauty your bosom hath blest
The brightest o’ Beauty may cloy when possess’d;
But the sweet, yellow darlings wi’ Geordie impress’d,
The langer ye hae them, the mair they’re carest.
Then hey, for a lass, &c.

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