Adieu to the courtie of London town,
For to my ain countrie I will gang down;
At the sight of Kirkaldy ance again,
I'll cock up my bonnet and march amain.
Oh, the muckle deil tak' a' your noise and strife
I'm fully resolved for a country life,

Where a' the braw lasses, wha ken me weel,
Will feed me wi' bannocks o' barley meal.

I will quickly lay down my sword and my gun,
And put my blue bonnet and my plaidie on;
With my silk-tartan hose and leather-heel'd shoon,
And then I will look like a sprightly loon.
And when I'm sae dress'd frae tap to tae,
To meet my dear Maggie I vow I will gae,
Wi' target and hanger hung down to my heel,
And I'll feast upon bannocks o' barley meal.

I'll buy a rich garment to gi'e to my dear,

A ribbon o' green for Maggie to wear;

And mony thing brawer than that, I declare,

Gin she will gang wi' me to Paisley fair.
And when we are married, I'll keep her a cow,
And Maggie will milk when I gae to plow;
We'll live a' the winter on beef and lang kail,
And feast upon bannocks o' barley meal.

Gin Maggie should chance to bring me a son,
He'll fight for his king as his daddy has done;
He'll hie him to Flanders some breeding to learn,
And then hame to Scotland and get him a farm.
And there we will live by our industry,
And wha'll be sae happy as Maggie and me?
We'll a' grow as fat as a Norway seal,
Wi' our feasting on bannocks o' barley meal.

Then fare ye weel, citizens, noisy men,
Wha jolt in your coaches to Drury-lane;
Ye bucks o' Bear-garden, I bid you adieu,
For drinking and swearing, I leave it to you.
I'm fairly resolved for a country life,

And nae langer will live in hurry and strife;

I'll aff to the Highlands as hard's I can reel,

And whang at the bannocks o' barley meal.

This song is generally attributed to the celebrated Duke of Argyll, but the statement does not appear to rest on sufficient authority. There is no doubt, however, that it was written of, if not by him.

GIN YE MEET A BONNIE LASSIE.

ALLAN RAMSAY. Air-"Fie, gar rub her ower wi' strae."

GIN ye meet a bonnie lassie,
Gi'e her a kiss and let her gae;

But if ye meet a dirty hizzie,
Fie, gar rub her ower wi' strae.

Be sure ye dinna quit the grip

Of ilka joy when ye are young,
Before auld age your vitals nip,

And lay ye twa-fauld ower a rung.

Sweet youth's a blythe and heartsome time:
Then, lads and lasses, while it's May,
Gae pou the gowan in its prime,

Before it wither and decay.
Watch the saft minutes o' delight,

When Jenny speaks below her breath,

And kisses, layin' a' the wyte
On you if she kep ony skaith.

Haith, ye're ill-bred, she'll smilin' say,
Ye'll
worry me, ye greedy rook.
Syne frae your arms she'll rin away,
And hide hersel' in some dark neuk.
Her lauch will lead ye to the place
Where lies the happiness ye want;
And plainly tell ye to your face,
Nineteen nay-says are hauf a grant.

Now to her heavin' bosom cling,
And sweitly tuilyie for a kiss;
Frae her fair finger whup a ring,
As taiken o' a future bliss.

These benisons, I'm very sure,

Are of kind heaven's indulgent grant;
Then, surly carles, wheesht, forbear

To plague us wi' your whinin' cant!

From the "Tea-Table Miscellany," 1724. "Connected with this song," says Chambers, "which few readers will need to be informed is a paraphrase, and a very happy one, of the celebrated 'Vides ut alta' of Horace, the following anecdote may be told. In a large mixed company, which had assembled one night in the house of a citizen of Edinburgh, where Robert Burns happened to be present, somebody sung 'Gin ye meet a bonnie lassie,' with excellent effect, insomuch as to throw all present into a sort of rapture. The only exception lay with a stiff pedantic old schoolmaster, who, in all the consciousness of superior critical acumen, and determined to be pleased with nothing which was not strictly classical, sat erect in his chair, with a countenance full of disdain, and rigidly abstained from expressing the slightest symptom of satisfaction. 'What ails you at the sang, Mr. ?' inquired an honest citizen of the name of Boag, who had been particularly delighted with it. 'Oh, nothing!' answered the man of learning; only the whole of it is stolen from Horace.' 'Houts, man!' replied Boag, 'Horace has rather stolen from the auld sang.' This ludicrous observation was met with absolute shouts of laughter, the whole of which was at the expense of the discomfited critic; and Burns was pleased to express his hearty thanks to the citizen for having set the matter to rights. He seems, from a passage in Cromek's 'Relics,' to have made use of the observation as his own."

MY JO JANET.

From the "Tea-Table Miscellany."

Air-"The keekin' glass," or "My jo Janet."

SWEET sir, for your courtesie,

When ye come by the Bass, then,

For the love ye bear to me,

Buy me a keekin' glass, then.
"Keek into the draw-well,
Janet, Janet;

There ye'll see your bonnie sel',
My jo Janet."

Keekin' in the draw-well clear,

What if I fa' in, sir?

Then a' my kin' will say and swear
I droun'd mysel' for sin, sir.
"Haud the better by the brae,
Janet, Janet;

Haud the better by the brae,
My jo Janet."

There is another stanza, which is generally omitted, and not without reason.

AULD ROB MORRIS.

Air-" Jock's the laird's brither."

MOTHER.

AULD Rob Morris, that wons in yon glen,

He's the king o' guid fallows, and wale o' auld men ;
He has fourscore o' black sheep, and fourscore too;
Auld Rob Morris is the man ye maun lo'e.

DAUGHTER.

Haud your tongue, mother, and let that abee;
For his eild and my eild can never agree:
They'll never agree, and that will be seen,
For he is fourscore, and I'm but fifteen.

MOTHER.

Haud your tongue, dochter, and lay by your pride,
For he is the bridegroom, and ye'se be the bride;
He shall lie by your side, and kiss you too;
Auld Rob Morris is the man ye maun lo'e.

DAUGHTER.

Auld Rob Morris, I ken him fu' weel,
His back sticks out like ony peat-creel;

He's out-shinn'd, in-knee'd, and ringle-eyed too;
Auld Rob Morris is the man I'll ne'er lo'e.

MOTHER.

Though auld Rob Morris be an elderly man,
Yet his auld brass will buy you a new pan;
Then, dochter, ye should na be sae ill to shoe,
For auld Rob Morris is the man ye maun lo'e.

DAUGHTER.

But auld Rob Morris I never will hae,

His back is so stiff and his beard is grown gray;

I had rather die than live wi' him a year,

Sae mair o' Rob Morris I never will hear.

This song appears in the "Tea-Table Miscellany" with the signature of Q. Burns has written a love song with the same title, in which he has preserved the first two lines, and some other portions of the above.