CLXXXIII.
Reading edition
AULD ROB MORRIS.
[The starting lines of this song are from one of no little merit in Ramsey’s collection: the old strain is sarcastic; the new strain is tender: it was written for Thomson.]
I.
There’s auld Rob Morris that wons in yon glen, He’s the king o’ guid fellows and wale of auld men; He has gowd in his coffers, he has owsen and kine, And ae bonnie lassie, his darling and mine.
II.
She’s fresh as the morning, the fairest in May; She’s sweet as the ev’ning amang the new hay; As blythe and as artless as the lamb on the lea, And dear to my heart as the light to my e’e.
III.
But oh! she’s an heiress,—auld Robin’s a laird, And my daddie has nought but a cot-house and yard; A wooer like me mamma hope to come speed; The wounds I must hide that will soon be my dead.
IV.
The day comes to me, but delight brings me nane; The night comes to me, but my rest it is gane: I wander my lane like a night-troubled ghaist, And I sigh as my heart it wad burst in my breast.
V.
O had she but been of a lower degree, I then might hae hop’d she wad smil’d upon me! O, how past descriving had then been my bliss, As now my distraction no words can express!