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My hand-a-bin, * a gude brown filly,
Wha aft has borne me safe frae Killie ; of
And your auld borough mony a time,
In days when riding was nae crime:
My fur-a-hin, ş a guid, gray beast,
As e'er in tug or tow was trac'd :
The fourth, a Highland Donald hasty,
A d-mn'd red-wud, Kilburnie blastie.
For-by a cowte, of cowtes the wale,
As ever ran before a tail ;
An' he be spar'd to be a beast,
He'll draw me fifteen pund at least.

Wheel carriages I hae but few,
Three carts, and twa are feckly new ;
An auld wheel-barrow, mair for token,
Ae leg and baith the trams are broken ;
I made a poker o' the spindle,
And my auld mither brunt the trundle.
For men, I've three mischievous boys,
Run-deils for rantin and for noise ;
A gadsman ane, a thresher tother,
Wee Davoc hauds the nowte in fother.

* The hindmost on the left hand, in the plough. + Kilmarnock. $ The same on the right hand, in the plough.

same

I rule them as I ought discreetly,
And often labour them compleatly,
And ay on Sundays duly nightly,
I on the questions tairge them tightly,
'Till faith wee Davoc's grown sae gleg,
(Tho' scarcely langer than my leg)
He'll screed you off effectual calling, a
As fast as ony in the dwalling.

I've nane in female servant station,
Lord keep me ay frae a' temptation !
I hae nae wife, and that my bliss is,
And ye hae laid nae tax on misses ;
For weans I'm mair than weel contented,
Heaven sent me ane mair than I wanted ;
My sonsie, smirking, dear-bought Bess,
She stares the daddie in her face,
Enough of ought ye like but grace.
But her, my bonny, sweet, wee lady,
I've said enough for her already,
And if ye tax her or her mither,
By the L--d ye’se get them a' thegither!

And now, remember, Mr. Aiken,
Nae kind of licence out I'm taking.
Thro' dirt and dub for life I'll paidle,
Eer I sae dear pay for a saddle ;

I've

I've sturdy stumps, the Lord be thanked !
And a' my gates on foot I'll shank it.

This list wi' my ain hand I've wrote it,
The day and date as under noted;
Then know all ye whom it concerns
Subscripsi huic

ROBERT BURNS.

SONG. SONG.

NAE gentle dames, tho' e'er sae fair, *
Shall ever be my muse's care ;
Their titles a’ are empty show;
Gie me my highland lassie, 0.

Within the glen sae bushy, 0,
Aboon the plain sae rushy, O,
I set me down wi' right good will;
To sing my bighland lassie, O.

O were yon hills and vallies mine,
Yon palace and yon gardens fine!
The world then the love should know.
I bear my highland lassie, 0.

Within the glen, &c.

But

* Gentle is used here in opposition to simple, in the Scottish and old English sense of the word. Nae gentle dames-No high blooded dames.

But fickle fortune frowns on me,
And I maun cross the raging sea;
But while my crimson currents flow
I'll love my highland lassie, O.

Within the glen, &c.

Altho' thro' foreign climes I range,
I know her heart will never change,
For her bosom burns with honour's glow,
My faithful highland lassie, 0.

Within the glen, &c.

For her I'll dare the billows' roar,
For her I'll trace a distant shore,
That Indian wealth may lustre throw,
Around my highland lassie, 0.

Within the glen, &c.

She has my heart, she has my hand,
By sacred truth and honor's band !
'Till the mortal stroke shall lay me low,
I'm thine my highland lassie, O.

Farewell

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