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But spare to speak, and spare to speed;
She'll aiblins listen to my vow :
To her twa e'en sae bonnie blue.
* The heroine of this song was Miss J. of Lochmaban. This lady, now Mrs. R., after residing some time in Liverpool, is settled with her husband in New York, North America.
THE BANKS OF NITH.
Tune-“ ROBIE DONNA GORACH."
THE Thames flows proudly to the sea,
Where royal cities stately stand; But sweeter flows the Nith, to me,
Where Cummins ance had high command: When shall I see that honor'd land,
That winding stream I love so dear! Must wayward fortune's adverse hand
For ever, ever keep me here.
How lovely, Nith, thy fruitful vales,
Where spreading hawthorns gayly bloom ; How sweetly wind thy sloping dales
Where lambkins wanton thro’ the broom!
Tho' wandering, now, must be my doom,
Far from thy bonnie banks and braes, May there my latest hours consume,
Amang the friends of early days !
JOHN ANDERSON MY JO.
JOHN Anderson my jo, John
When we were first acquent ; Your locks were like the raven,
Your bonnie brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John,
Your locks are like the snaw; But blessings on your frosty pow,
John Anderson my jo.
John Anderson my jo, John,
We clamb the hill thegither ; And mony a canty day John,
We've had wi' ane anither :
Now we maun totter down, John,
John Anderson my jo. *
* In the first volume of a collection entitled, Poetry Original and Selected, printed by Brash and Reid of Glasgow, this song is given as follows:
Jobn Anderson, my jo, improved,
By ROBERT BURNS,
JOHN Anderson, my jo, John, Iwonder what you mean, To rise so soon in the morning, and sit up so late at e'en, Ye'll blear out a' your e'en, John, and why should you
Gang sooner to your bed at e'en, John Anderson, myjoe.
John Anderson, my joe, John, whan nature first began To try her canny hand, John, her master-work was man; And you amang them a' John, sae trig frae tap to toe, She proved to be nae journey-work, John Anderson, myjoe.