Poems and Songs of Robert Burns | Page 8

of the air; the rest was his
own. His method, as he has told us himself, was to become familiar
with the traditional melody, to catch a suggestion from some fragment
of the old song, to fix upon an idea or situation for the new poem; then,
humming or whistling the tune as he went about his work, he wrought
out the new verses, going into the house to write them down when the
inspiration began to flag. In this process is to be found the explanation
of much of the peculiar quality of the songs of Burns. Scarcely any
known author has succeeded so brilliantly in combining his work with
folk material, or in carrying on with such continuity of spirit the
tradition of popular song. For George Thomson's collection of Scottish
airs he performed a function similar to that which he had had in the
"Museum"; and his poetical activity during the last eight or nine years

of his life was chiefly devoted to these two publications. In spite of the
fact that he was constantly in severe financial straits, he refused to
accept any recompense for this work, preferring to regard it as a
patriotic service. And it was, indeed, a patriotic service of no small
magnitude. By birth and temperament he was singularly fitted for the
task, and this fitness is proved by the unique extent to which his
productions were accepted by his countrymen, and have passed into the
life and feeling of his race.
Song - Handsome Nell^1
Tune - "I am a man unmarried."
[Footnote 1: The first of my performances. - R. B.]
Once I lov'd a bonie lass,
Ay, and I love her still;
And whilst that
virtue warms my breast,
I'll love my handsome Nell.
As bonie lasses I hae seen,
And mony full as braw;
But, for a
modest gracefu' mein,
The like I never saw.
A bonie lass, I will confess,
Is pleasant to the e'e;
But, without some
better qualities,
She's no a lass for me.
But Nelly's looks are blythe and sweet,
And what is best of a',
Her
reputation is complete,
And fair without a flaw.
She dresses aye sae clean and neat,
Both decent and genteel;
And
then there's something in her gait
Gars ony dress look weel.
A gaudy dress and gentle air
May slightly touch the heart;
But it's
innocence and modesty
That polishes the dart.
'Tis this in Nelly pleases me,
'Tis this enchants my soul;
For
absolutely in my breast
She reigns without control.
Song - O Tibbie, I Hae Seen The Day

Tune - "Invercauld's Reel, or Strathspey."
Choir. - O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,
Ye wadna been sae shy;
For
laik o' gear ye lightly me,
But, trowth, I care na by.
Yestreen I met you on the moor,
Ye spak na, but gaed by like stour;

Ye geck at me because I'm poor,
But fient a hair care I.
O Tibbie,
I hae seen the day, &c.
When coming hame on Sunday last,
Upon the road as I cam past,

Ye snufft and ga'e your head a castBut
trowth I care't na by.
O
Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c.
I doubt na, lass, but ye may think,
Because ye hae the name o' clink,

That ye can please me at a wink,
Whene'er ye like to try.
O
Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c.
But sorrow tak' him that's sae mean,
Altho' his pouch o' coin were
clean,
Wha follows ony saucy quean,
That looks sae proud and high.

O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c.
Altho' a lad were e'er sae smart,
If that he want the yellow dirt,
Ye'll
cast your head anither airt,
And answer him fu' dry.
O Tibbie, I hae
seen the day, &c.
But, if he hae the name o' gear,
Ye'll fasten to him like a brier,
Tho'
hardly he, for sense or lear,
Be better than the kye.
O Tibbie, I hae
seen the day, &c.
But, Tibbie, lass, tak' my advice:
Your daddie's gear maks you sae
nice;
The deil a ane wad speir your price,
Were ye as poor as I.
O
Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c.
There lives a lass beside yon park,
I'd rather hae her in her sark,

Than you wi' a' your thousand mark;
That gars you look sae high.
O
Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c.

Song - I Dream'd I Lay
I dream'd I lay where flowers were springing
Gaily in the sunny beam;

List'ning to the wild birds singing,
By a falling crystal stream:

Straight the sky grew black and daring;
Thro' the woods the
whirlwinds rave;
Tress with aged arms were warring,
O'er the
swelling drumlie wave.
Such was my life's deceitful morning,
Such the pleasures I enjoyed:

But lang or noon, loud tempests storming
A' my flowery bliss
destroy'd.
Tho' fickle fortune has deceiv'd meShe
promis'd fair, and
perform'd but ill,
Of mony a joy and hope bereav'd meI
bear a heart
shall support me still.
Song - In The Character Of A Ruined Farmer
Tune - "Go from my window, Love, do."
The sun he is sunk in the west,
All creatures