CCLIII.
Reading edition
HOW CRUEL ARE THE PARENTS.
Tune—“John Anderson, my jo.”
[“I am at this moment,” says Burns to Thomson, when he sent him this song, “holding high converse with the Muses, and have not a word to throw away on a prosaic dog, such as you are.” Yet there is less than the poet’s usual inspiration in this lyric, for it is altered from an English one.]
I.
How cruel are the parents Who riches only prize, And, to the wealthy booby, Poor woman sacrifice! Meanwhile the hapless daughter Has but a choice of strife; To shun a tyrant father’s hate, Become a wretched wife.
II.
The ravening hawk pursuing, The trembling dove thus flies, To shun impelling ruin Awhile her pinions tries: Till of escape despairing, No shelter or retreat, She trusts the ruthless falconer, And drops beneath his feet!