86 Hark, the swelling bugle rings, Waefu' thochts to me, laddie. Where vengeance drives his crimson car, And nane to close thy ee, laddie." Oh, resume thy wonted smile, Oh, suppress thy fears, lassie; 'Midst our bonnie woods and braes WHAT AILS THIS HEART? SUSANNA BLAMIRE. Air-" Sir James Baird's favourite," or "My dearie, an' thou dee." WHAT ails this heart o' mine? What ails this watery ee? What gars me a' turn cauld as death When I take leave o' thee? When thou art far awa', Thou'lt dearer grow to me; But change o' place and change o' folk When I gae out at e'en, Or walk at morning air, And live aneath the tree, I'll ca't a word frae thee. I'll hie me to the bower That thou wi' roses tied, And where wi' mony a blushing bud I strove mysel❜ to hide. I'll doat on ilka spot Where I hae been wi' thee, And ca' to mind some kindly word By ilka burn and tree. Wi' sic thoughts i' my mind, Time through the world may gae, And find my heart in twenty years The same as 'tis to-day, 'Tis thoughts that bind the soul, THE WAEFU' HEART. SUSANNA BLAMIRE. Published 1788. GIN livin' worth could win my heart, My waefu' heart lies low wi' his, Yet, oh, gin Heaven in mercy soon And see, his gentle spirit comes, To show me on my way; I come, I come, my Jamie dear, She said, and soon a deadly pale Her sorrows sunk to rest. This excellent song is erroneously stated, in the notes to the collection of melodies published in Glasgow in 1841, under the title of "The Garland of Scotia," to be the production of one Jeanie Ferguson. AND YE SHALL WALK IN SILK ATTIRE. SUSANNA BLAMIRE. From the "Musical Museum," 1790. For I hae pledged my virgin troth His gentle manners wan my heart, It wad be waur than theft. And ere I'm forced to break my troth, I WINNA GANG BACK. RICHARD GALL, born 1776, died 1801. I WINNA gang back to my mammy again, Young Johnnie cam' down i' the gloamin' to woo, He ca'd me his dawtie, his dearie, his dow, Some lasses will talk to the lads wi' their ee, Yet hanker to tell what their hearts really dree; Wi' Johnnie I stood upon nae stappin'-stane, Sae I'll never gang back to my mammy again. Wi' Johnnie I stood, &c. For mony lang year sin' I play'd on the lea, FAREWELL TO AYRSHIRE. RICHARD GALL. SCENES of woe and scenes of pleasure, Bonnie Doon, sae sweet at gloamin', Bowers, adieu! whare love decoying Ye hae render'd moments dear; Then the stroke, oh, how severe ! Friends, that parting tear, reserve it, How much happier would I be! |