The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi' flowers,
White ower the lin the burnie pours,
And risin weets wi' misty showers

The Birks of Aberfeldy.

Let Fortune's gifts at random flee,
They ne'er shall draw a wish frae me,
Supremely blest wi' love and thee,

In the Birks of Aberfeldy.

This song is written to the air of "The Birks (birch-trees) of Abergeldy," an ancient composition, from which Burns borrowed nothing but the chorus.

CA' THE YOWES.*

BURNS.

CA' the yowes to the knowes,
Ca' them where the heather grows,
Ca' them where the burnie rows,
My bonnie dearie.

Hark the mavis' evening sang,
Sounding Cluden's woods amang;
Then a-faulding let us gang,
My bonnie dearie.

We'll gang doun by Cluden side,
Through the hazels spreading wide
O'er the waves that sweetly glide,
My bonnie dearie.

Yonder Cluden's silent towers,

Where, at moonshine midnight hours,

O'er the dewy budding flowers

The fairies dance sae cheerie.

* Burns says of this song, in a letter to Thomson, "I am flattered at your adopting Ca' the yowes to the knowes,' as it was owing to me that it ever saw the light. About seven years ago I was well acquainted with a worthy little fellow of a clergyman, a Mr. Clunie, who sang it charmingly; and, at my request, Mr. Clark took it down from his singing. When I gave it to Johnson, I added some stanzas to the song, and mended others; but still it will not do for you. In a solitary stroll which I took to-day, I tried my hand on a few pastoral lines, following up the idea of the chorus, which I would preserve. Here it is, with all its crudities and imperfections on its head." Mr. Thomson, in reply, calls the song "a precious morceau ;" and adds, "I am perfectly astonished and charmed with the endless variety of your fancy."

Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear;
Thou'rt to love and heaven sae dear,
Nocht of ill may come thee near,
My bonnie dearie.

Fair and lovely as thou art,

Thou hast stoun my very heart;

I can die, but canna part,
My bonnie dearie.

The original song upon which Burns founded his version is attributed to Isabell or Tibbie Pagan, who died in the neighbourhood of Muirkirk, Ayrshire, in 1821, aged eighty. Some account of her appears in the "Ayrshire Contemporaries of Burns," Edinburgh, 1840. The following version is the original, as revised by Burns for the "Museum." The last verse is by Burns himself.

"Ca' the yowes to the knowes,

Ca' them whare the heather grows,
Ca' them whare the burnie rows

My bonnie dearie.

As I gaed down the water-side,
There I met my shepherd lad,
He row'd me sweetly in his plaid
And ca'd me his dearie.

Ca' the yowes, &c.

Will ye gang down the water-side,
And see the waves sae sweetly glide
Beneath the hazels spreading wide,
The moon it shines fu' clearly.
Ca' the yowes, &c.

I was bred up at nae sic school,
My shepherd lad, to play the fool,
And a' the day to sit in dool,
And naebody to see me.

Ca' the yowes, &c.

Ye shall get gowns and ribbons meet
Cauf-leather shoon upon your feet
And in my arms ye'se lie and sleep
And ye shall be my dearie.
Ca' the yowes, &c.

If ye'll but stand to what ye've said,
I'se gang with you, my shepherd lad,
And ye may row me in your plaid,
And I shall be your dearie.
Ca' the yowes, &c.

While waters wimple to the sea,
While day blinks in the lift sae hie;
Till clay-cauld death shall blin' my ee,

Ye aye shall be my dearie.

Ca' the yowes, &c."

GALA WATER.

BURNS.

THERE's braw, braw lads on Yarrow braes,
That wander through the blooming heather;
But Yarrow braes nor Ettrick shaws

Can match the lads o' Gala water.

But there is ane, a secret ane,

Abune them a' I lo'e him better;
And I'll be his, and he'll be mine,
The bonnie lad o' Gala water.

Although his daddie was nae laird,
And though I hae nae mickle tocher;
Yet rich in kindest, truest love,

We'll tent our flocks on Gala water.

It ne'er was wealth, it ne'er was wealth,
That coft contentment, peace, or pleasure;
The bands and bliss o' mutual love,

Oh, that's the chiefest warld's treasure!

The old tune to which this is sung is very beautiful. Its exact date is unknown. It is said to have been a great favourite of Haydn's. The words of the old song are lost, with the exception of the following:

"Braw, braw lads of Gala water,

Braw, braw lads of Gala water;

I'll kilt my coats aboon my knee,

And follow my love through the water.

O'er yon bank and o'er yon brae,

O'er yon moss amang the heather,

I'll kilt my coats aboon my knee,

And follow my love through the water."

MY NANNIE'S AWA.

BURNS. Air-" There'll never be peace until Jamie comes hame."

Now in her green mantle blythe Nature arrays,
And listens the lambkins that bleat ower the braes,
While birds warble welcome in ilka green shaw;
But to me its delightless—my Nannie's awa.

The snaw-drap and primrose our woodlands adorn,
And violets bathe in the weet o' the morn;
They pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly they blaw;
They mind me o' Nannie- and Nannie's awa.

Thou laverock that springs frae the dews of the lawn,
The shepherd to warn of the grey-breaking dawn;
And thou mellow mavis that hails the night-fa',
Give over for pity-my Nannie's awa.

Come, Autumn, sae pensive in yellow and grey,
And soothe me wi' tidings o' nature's decay;
The dark dreary winter and wild driving snaw
Alane can delight me-my Nannie's awa.

WANDERING WILLIE.

BURNS. Air-" Wandering Willie."

HERE awa, there awa, wandering Willie,
Now tired with wandering, haud awa hame ;
Come to my bosom, my ae only dearie,

And tell me thou bringst me my Willie the same. Loud blew the cauld winter winds at our parting; It was nae the blast brought the tear in my ee; Now welcome the simmer, and welcome my Willie The simmer to nature, my Willie to me.

Ye hurricanes, rest in the caves o' your slumbers;
Oh, how your wild horrors a lover alarms!
Awaken, ye breezes, row gently, ye billows,

And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms.

But if he's forgotten his faithfullest Nannie,

Oh, still flow between us, thou wide roaring main ! May I never see it, may I never trow it;

But dying believe that my Willie's my ain!

As altered by Mr. Erskine and Mr. Thomson.

Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie,
Here awa, there awa, haud awa hame;
Come to my bosom, my ain only dearie,

Tell me thou bringst me my Willie the same.

Winter-winds blew loud and cauld at our parting,
Fears for my Willie brought tears in my ee;
Welcome now simmer and welcome my Willie,
As simmer to nature, so Willie to me.

Rest, ye wild storms, in the caves o' your slumbers;
How your dread howlings a lover alarms!
Blow soft, ye breezes, roll gently, ye billows,

And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms.

But oh, if he's faithless and minds not his Nannie,
Flow still between us, thou dark heaving main;
May I never see it, may I never trow it;

While dying I think that my Willie's my ain!

Burns, with his usual judgment, adopted some of these alterations, and rejected others.

-0

MY NANNIE O.

BURNS.

BEHIND yon hills where Stinchar flows,
Mang moors an' mosses many 0,
The wintry sun the day has closed,
And I'll awa to Nannie O.

The westlan wind blaws loud an' shrill,
The night's baith mirk and rainy 0;
But I'll get my plaid an' out I'll steal,
An' ower the hills to Nannie O.

My Nannie's charming, sweet, an' young;
Nae artfu' wiles to win ye 0;
May ill befa' the flatt'ring tongue
That wad beguile my Nannie O.

Her face is fair, her heart is true,
As spotless as she's bonnie O;
The opening gowan wet wi' dew
Nae purer is than Nannie 0.

A country lad is my degree,

An' few there be that ken me 0;
But what care I how few they be?
I'm welcome aye to Nannie O.