by Robert Burns
3 See Johnson’s Tour to the Hebrides. R.B.
4 Robert Riddell was a Kirk Elder, representing the presbytery of Dumfries at the Scottish Assembly from 1789–93.
There’ll Never be Peace till Jamie Comes Hame
First printed in Johnson’s S.M.M., Vol. 4, 13th August 1792.
By yon castle wa’ at the close of the day, wall
I heard a man sing tho’ his head it was grey;
And as he was singing the tears down came,
There’ll never be peace till Jamie comes hame. — home
5 The Church is in ruins, the State is in jars,
Delusions, oppressions, and murderous wars:
We dare na weel say’t, but we ken wha’s to blame, not well, know, who’s
There’ll never be peace till Jamie comes hame. — home
My seven braw sons for Jamie drew sword, fine
10 But now I greet round their green beds in the yerd; weep, graves, field
It brak the sweet heart o’ my faithfu’ auld Dame, broke, old
There’ll never be peace till Jamie comes hame. —
Now life is a burden that bows me down,
Sin I tint my bairns, and he tint his crown; since, lost, kids, lost
15 But till my last moments my words are the same,
There’ll never be peace till Jamie comes hame. —
Introducing this Jacobite inspired song to Alexander Cunningham, the poet wrote, ‘When Political combustion ceases to be the object of Princes & Patriots, it then, you know, becomes the lawful prey of Historians & Poets’ (Letter 441). This is a deliberately ambivalent remark. It does not necessarily mean that either history or poetry is a mere record of things irretrievably past, but that both have a disturbing, resurrectionary potential as a prelude to political action. Yeats would perhaps be the most tangible example of this sort of poetic influence.
What Can a Young Lassie Do wi’ an Auld Man
First printed in Johnson’s S.M.M., Vol. 4, 13th August 1792.
What can a young lassie, what shall a young lassie,
What can a young lassie do wi’ an auld man? old
Bad luck on the pennie, that tempted my Minnie mother
To sell her puir Jenny for siller and lan’! poor, money & land
5 He’s always compleenin, frae mornin to eenin, complaining, from, evening
He hoasts and he hirpis the weary day lang: coughs, limps
He’s doylt and he’s dozin; his blude it is frozen, worn-out, dull, blood
O, dreary’s the night wi’ a crazy auld man! old
He hums and he hankers, he frets and he cankers, fretful, peevish, crabbit
10 I never can please him, do a’ that I can;
He’s peevish, an’ jealous of a’ the young fallows,
O, dool on the day I met wi’ an auld man! sorrow, old
My auld auntie Katie upon me taks pity, old
I’ll do my endeavour to follow her plan;
15 I’ll cross him, an’ wrack him until I heartbreak him,
And then his auld brass will buy me a new pan. old money
This is an original work by Burns, which he describes in the British Museum manuscript as having ‘some merit’ but ‘miserably long’ (See Wallace 1896, p. 370). Economically enforced May/September relationships in the world of eighteenth-century Scottish folk songs begin, never mind end, badly.
The Bonie Lad that’s Far Awa
First printed in Johnson’s S.M.M., Vol. 4, 13th August 1792.
O how can I be blythe and glad,
Or how can I gang brisk and braw, go, fine
When the bonie lad that I lo’e best love
Is o’er the hills and far awa. —
5 It’s no the frosty winter wind,
It’s no the driving drift and snaw; snow
But ay the tear comes in my e’e, eye
To think on him that’s far awa. —
My father pat me frae his door, put from
10 My friends they hae disown’d me a’; have
But I hae ane will tak my part, have one
The bonie lad that’s far awa. —
A pair o’ gloves he bought to me,
And silken snoods he gae me twa, hair-ribbons, gave, two
15 And I will wear them for his sake,
The bonie lad that’s far awa. —
O weary Winter soon will pass,
And Spring will cleed the birken shaw: clothe, birch woods
And my sweet babie will be born,
20 And he’ll be hame that’s far awa. home
Burns informed Thomson in October 1794 that this song ‘is mine’ (Letter 644). It is partly modelled on an old fragment preserved by Herd which begins ‘How can I be blythe or glad, / Or in my mind contented be’. Burns’s poetry, as his world, was filled with harsh, punitive separation with people either fiscally driven out or sucked into the vortex of the French war. The winter pain of this woman, bearing her illegitimate child, is, at least, lightened by anticipation of Spring and return.
I Do Confess Thou art sae Fair –
First printed in Johnson’s S.M.M., Vol. 4, 13th August 1792.
I do confess thou art sae fair, so
I wad been o’er the lugs in luve; would, ears
Had I na found, the slightest prayer not
That lips could speak, thy heart could muve. —
5 I do confess thee sweet, but find,
Thou art so thriftless o’ thy sweets,
Thy favours are the silly wind
That kisses ilka thing it meets. every
See yonder rose-bud rich in dew,
10 Amang its native briers sae coy, among, so
How sune it tines its scent and hue, soon, loses
When pu’d and worn a common toy! pulled
Sic fate ere lang shall thee betide; such, long, become
Tho’ thou may gayly bloom awhile,
15 And sune thou shalt be thrown aside, soon
Like onie common weed and vile. — any
In the Interleaved S.M.M. Burns writes, ‘This song is altered from a poem by Sir Robert Ayton … I have improved the simplicity of the sentiments, by giving them a Scots dress.’
Sensibility How Charming
Tune: Cornwallis Lament for Coln. Moorhouse
First printed in Johnson’s S.M.M., Vol. 4, 13th August 1792.
Sensibility how charming,
Dearest Nancy, thou can’st tell;
But Distress with horrors arming,
Thou hast also known too well. —
5 Fairest flower, behold the lily,
Blooming in the sunny ray.
Let the blast sweep o’er the valley,
See it prostrate on the clay. —
Hear the woodlark charm the forest,
10 Telling o’er his little joys:
Hapless bird! a prey the surest
To each pirate of the skies. —
Dearly bought the hidden treasure,
Finer Feelings can bestow:
15 Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure,
Thrill the deepest notes of woe. —
In two separate letters (Letters 411 and 462) Burns informs both Mrs Dunlop and Agnes McLehose that this work was written for them, first as a condolence to Mrs Dunlop on the death of her son-in-law and then as a compliment to his ‘Clarinda’: hence the reference to ‘Nancy’, l. 2. This is probably due to the poet’s desire to comfort two close friends on separate occasions. Burns’s understanding of the fact that hypersensitivity to pleasure necessarily, dreadfully, entails hypersensitivity to pain, evoked a passionate response among the English Romantic poets. Wordsworth, in particular, saw Burns as symptomatic of this dire, manic depressive alternation of extreme emotional states. See, for example, Resolution and Independence (ll. 44–9):
Of Him who walked in glory and in joy
Following his plough, along the mountain-side:
By our own spirits are we deified:
We Poets in our youth b
egin in gladness;
But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.
Yon Wild Mossy Mountains
First printed in Johnson’s S.M.M., Vol. 4, 13th August 1792.
Yon wild, mossy mountains sae lofty and wide, so
That nurse in their bosom the youth o’ the Clyde;
Where the grouse lead their coveys thro’ the heather to feed,
And the sheepherd tents his flock as he pipes on his reed.
5 Not Gowrie’s rich valley, nor Forth’s sunny shores,
To me hae the charms o’ yon wild, mossy moors: have
For there, by a lanely, sequestered stream, lonely
Resides a sweet Lassie, my thought and my dream. —
Amang thae wild mountains shall still be my path, among those
10 Ilk stream foaming down its ain green, narrow strath; each, own
For there wi’ my Lassie, thy lang-day I rove, long
While o’er us, unheeded, flee the swift hourso’ Love. — fly
She is not the fairest, altho’ she is fair;
O’ nice education but sma’ is her share;
15 Her parentage humble as humble can be;
But I lo’e the dear Lassie because she lo’es me. —
To Beauty what man but maun yield him a prize, must
In her armour of glances, and blushes, and sighs;
And when Wit and Refinement hae polish’d her darts, have
20 They dazzle our een, as they flie to our hearts. — eyes, fly
But Kindness, sweet Kindness, in the fond-sparkling e’e, eye
Has lustre outshining the diamond to me;
And the heart beating love as I’m clasp’d in her arms,
O, these are my Lassie’s all-conquering charms!
Burns writes in the Interleaved S.M.M. ‘This tune is by Oswald: the song alludes to a part of my private history which it is of no consequence to the world to know’ (quoted in Wallace, 1896, p. 372). It is, therefore, an original work although the identity of the romance is not known.
It is Na, Jean, Thy Bonie Face
Tune: The Maid’s Complaint
First printed in Johnson’s S.M.M., Vol. 4, 13th August 1792.
It is na, Jean, thy bonie face, not
Nor shape that I admire,
Altho’ thy beauty and thy grace
Might weel awauk desire. — well, awaken
5 Something in ilka part o’ thee each
To praise, to love, I find,
But dear as is thy form to me,
Still dearer is thy mind. —
Nae mair ungen’rous wish I hae, no more, have
10 Nor stronger in my breast,
Than, if I canna mak thee sae, cannot, so
At least to see thee blest.
Content am I, if Heaven shall give
But happiness to thee:
15 And as wi’ thee I wish to live,
For thee I’d bear to die.
Although allegedly based on an old English song, which editorially still remains unlocated, this was written for Jean Armour. The ultimate rhyme of ‘thee’ and ‘die’ requires the Scots pronunciation dee.
Eppie Macnab –
First printed in Johnson’s S.M.M., Vol. 4, 13th August 1792.
O saw ye my dearie, my Eppie McNab?
O saw ye my dearie, my Eppie McNab?
‘She’s down in the yard, she’s kissin the Laird,
She winna come hame to her ain Jock Rab. — will not, home, own
5 O come thy ways to me, my Eppie McNab;
O come thy ways to me, my Eppie McNab;
Whate’er thou has done, be it late, be it soon,
Thou’s welcome again to thy ain Jock Rab. — own
What says she, my dearie, my Eppie McNab?
10 What says she, my dearie, my Eppie McNab?
She lets thee to wit that she has thee forgot,
And for ever disowns thee, her ain Jock Rab.
O had I ne’er seen thee, my Eppie McNab!
O had I ne’er seen thee, my Eppie McNab!
15 As light as the air and as fause as thou’s fair, false
Thou’s broken the heart o’ thy ain Jock Rab!
This is Burns’s somewhat sanitised version of an old bawdy song with its political as well as erotic implications.
Wha is That at My Bower Door?
First printed in Johnson’s S.M.M., Vol. 4, 13th August 1792.
Wha is that at my bower-door? who, cottage
O, wha is it but Findlay;
Then gae your gate, ye ’se nae be here! go, way, not
Indeed maun I! quo’ Findlay. — must
5 What mak ye, sae like a thief? so
O, come and see, quo’ Findlay,
Before the morn ye’ll work mischief;
Indeed will I, quo’ Findlay. —
Gif I rise and let you in, what if
10 Let me in, quo’ Findlay;
Ye’ll keep me waukin wi’ your din; waken
Indeed will I, quo’ Findlay. —
In my bower if ye should stay,
Let me stay, quo’ Findlay;
15 I fear ye’ll bide till break o’ day;
Indeed will I, quo’ Findlay. —
Here this night if ye remain,
I’ll remain, quo’ Findlay;
I dread ye’ll learn the gate again; come back
20 Indeed will I, quo’ Findlay. —
What may pass within this bower,
Let it pass, quo’ Findlay;
Ye maun conceal till your last hour; must
Indeed will I, quo’ Findlay. —
This question and answer dialogue ballad is modelled on an old broadside Who’s that at my chamber door? (Kinsley, Vol. III, no. 356, p. 1392).
The Bonny Wee Thing
First printed in Johnson’s S.M.M., Vol 4, 13th August 1792.
Wishfully I look and languish
In that bonie face o’ thine;
And my heart it stounds wi’ anguish, beats
Lest my wee thing be na mine. — not
Chorus
5 Bonie wee thing, cannie wee thing,
Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine;
I wad wear thee in my bosom, would
Lest my Jewel it should tine. be lost
Wit, and Grace and Love, and Beauty,
10 In ae constellation shine; one
To adore thee is my duty,
Goddess o’ this soul o’ mine!
Bonie wee thing, &c.
Deborah Duff Davies was a petite young Welshwoman who, especially from his letters to her (Letters 472A, 556A, 564) made, even by his inflammatory standards, an extraordinary impact on Burns. His erotic enthusiasm was further intensified by political approval. He met her as a friend of the Riddells at Woodley Park and, from the evidence of Letter 556A she shared his reformative radical passions: ‘They talk of REFORM – My God! What a reform would I make among the Sons, & even the Daughters, of Men!’ She died an early consumptive death.
Ae Fond Kiss
Tune: Rory Dall’s Port
First printed in Johnson’s S.M.M., Vol. 4, 13th August 1792.
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever; one
Ae fareweel, and then forever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee. —
5 Who shall say that Fortune grieves him,
While the star of hope she leaves him:
Me, nae cheerfu’ twinkle lights me; no
Dark despair around benights me. —
I’ll ne’er blame my partial fancy:
10 Naething could resist my Nancy: nothing
But to see her, was to love her;
Love but her, and love for ever. —
Had we never lov’d sae kindly, so
Had we never lov’d sae blindly!
15 Never met — or never parted,
We had ne’er been broken-hearted. —
Fare-thee-weel, thou
first and fairest! -well
Fare-thee-weel, thou best and dearest!
Thine be ilka joy and treasure, each/every
20 Peace, Enjoyment, Love and Pleasure! —
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!
Ae fareweel, Alas, for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee. —
Kinsley has traced the source of this song to Dodsley:
One fond kiss before we part,
Drop a Tear and bid Adieu;
Tho’ we sever, my fond Heart
Till we meet shall pant for you’ (Vol. III, p. 1379).
If this is the ore, Burns has transmuted it into one of his most golden lyrics though Kinsley himself thinks the song’s success depends on ll. 13–16.
Despite the over-heated artificiality of much of the relationship, Burns, because of his class, and Mrs MacLehose, because of her separated status, were, to a degree, outsiders in polite Edinburgh society. Her decision to rejoin her husband who she, against her Edinburgh surgeon father’s advice, had married when seventeen and, five years and three children later, had separated from, led her to take ship, ironically, to Jamaica. The song, then, is charged with a combination of sexual loss and foreign exile, bringing together two of Burns’s dominant themes. The journey, too, led only to further humiliation for her. Her husband stayed with his mistress, refused to meet her and so she took the same ship home. She long outlived the poet and in 1831 recorded in her Journal: ‘This day (6 December) I can never forget. Parted with Burns in the year 1791, never more to meet in this world. Oh, may we meet in Heaven!’
