The Canongate Burns (117 page)

There liv'd a man in yonder glen,

       And John Blunt was his name, O;

He maks gude maut, and he brews gude ale,
good malt

       And bears a wondrous frame, O. —

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The wind blew in the hallan ae night,
porch, one

       Fu snell out o'er the moor, O;
well bitter

‘Rise up, rise up, auld Luckie,' he says,
old

       ‘Rise up and bar the door, O'.

They made a paction tween the twa,

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       They made it firm and sure, O,

Whae'er sud speak the foremost word,
should

       Should rise and bar the door, O.

Three travellers that had tint their gate,
lost their way

       As thro' the hills they foor, O,
went/fared

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They airted by the line o light,
followed

       Fu' straight to Johnie Blunt's door, O. —
right

They haurl'd auld Luckie out o' her bed,
hurled old

       And laid her on the floor, O;

But never a word auld Luckie wad say,
would

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       For barrin o the door, O. —

Ye've eaten my bread, ye hae drunken my ale,
have

       And ye'll mak my auld wife a whore, O —
make, old

Aha, Johnie Blunt! ye hae spoke the first word,
has

       Get up and bar the door, O. —

Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,

       And leave auld Scotia's shore;
old

Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,

       Across th' Atlantic roar.

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O sweet grows the lime and the orange

       And the apple on the pine;

But a' the charms o' the Indies

       Can never equal thine.

I hae sworn by the Heavens to my Mary,
have

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       I hae sworn by the Heavens to be true,

And sae may the Heavens forget me,
so

       When I forget my vow!

O plight me your faith, my Mary,

       And plight me your lily-white hand;

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O plight me your faith, my Mary,

       Before I leave Scotia's strand.

We hae plighted our troth, my Mary,
have

       In mutual affection to join;

And curst be the cause that shall part us;

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        The hour and the moment o' time. —

Ye banks, and braes, and streams around
hill slopes

       The castle o' Montgomery,

Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,

       Your waters never drumlie!
muddied

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There Summer first unfald her robes,
unfolded

       And there the langest tarry:
longest stay

For there I took the last Fareweel
farewell

       O' my sweet Highland Mary.

How sweetly bloom'd the gay, green birk,
birch

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       How rich the hawthorn's blossom;

As underneath their fragrant shade,

       I clasp'd her to my bosom!

The golden Hours, on angel wings

       Flew o'er me and my Dearie;

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For dear to me as light and life

       Was my sweet Highland Mary.

Wi' monie a vow, and lock'd embrace,
many

       Our parting was fu' tender;
so

And, pledging aft to meet again,
often

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       We tore oursels asunder:

But Oh, fell Death's untimely frost,

       That nipt my Flower sae early!

Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay,
cold is

       That wraps my Highland Mary!

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O pale, pale now, those rosy lips

       I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly!
oft, so

And clos'd for ay, the sparkling glance,
always

       That dwalt on me sae kindly!
dwelled, so

And mouldering now in silent dust,

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       That heart that lo'ed me dearly!

But still within my bosom's core

       Shall live my Highland Mary.

She is a winsome wee thing,

She is a handsome wee thing,

She is a lo'esome wee thing,
lovesome

       This sweet wee wife o' mine.

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I never saw a fairer,

I never lo'ed a dearer;
loved

And neist my heart I'll wear her,
next to

       For fear my jewel tine.
lost

She is a winsome wee thing,

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She is a handsome wee thing,

She is a lo'esome wee thing,

       This dear wee wife o' mine.

The warld's wrack, we share o't,
world's suffering

The warstle and the care o't;
struggle

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Wi' her I'll blythely bear it,

       And think my lot divine.

Here's a health to them that's awa,
away

        Here's a health to them that's awa;

And wha winna wish gude luck to our cause,
who will not

        May never gude luck be their fa'!
lot

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It 's gude to be merry and wise,

        It 's gude to be honest and true,

It 's gude to support Caledonia's cause

        And bide by the Buff and the Blue.
Whig colours

Here 's a health to them that 's awa,
away

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        Here 's a health to them that 's awa;

Here 's a health to Charlie, the chief o' the clan,
1

        Altho' that his band be sma'.
small

May Liberty meet wi' success!

        May Prudence protect her frae evil!
from

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May Tyrants and Tyranny tine i' the mist,
get lost in

        And wander their way to the Devil!

Here 's a health to them that 's awa,

        Here 's a health to them that 's awa;

Here 's a health to Tammie, the Norland laddie,
2

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        That lives at the lug o' the Law!
ear (is intimate with)

Here 's freedom to him that wad read,
would

        Here 's freedom to him that would write!

There's nane ever fear'd that the Truth should be heard,
none

        But they whom the Truth wad indite.

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Here 's a health to them that 's awa,

        An' here 's to them that 's awa!

Here 's to Maitland and Wycombe! Let wha does na like 'em
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who, not

        Be built in a hole in the wa'!
wall

Here 's timmer that 's red at the heart,
timber

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        Here 's fruit that is sound at the core;

And may he that wad turn the buff and blue coat
would

        Be turn'd to the back o' the door!
4

Here 's a health to them that 's awa,

        Here 's a health to them that 's awa;

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Here 's Chieftain M'Leod, a chieftain worth gowd,
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gold

        Tho' bred amang mountains o' snaw!
among, snow

Here 's friends on baith sides o' the Forth,
both

        And friends on baith sides o' the Tweed,
both

And wha wad betray old Albion's right,
who would England's

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        May they never eat of her bread!