There's nane sall ken, there's nane sall guess, And stownlins we sall meet again. She'll wander by the aiken tree, A BOTTLE AND FRIEND.‡ There's nane that's blest of human kind, HERE'S a bottle and an honest friend! And comes not ay when sought, man. These verses, which occur in Cromek's Reliques, are printed as they stand in a copy in the Poet's own autograph. Gilbert Burns, however, in a letter to Mr. Cromek, in February, 1809, expressed a doubt as to their having been written by his brother. I'LL KISS THEE YET.|| TUNE THE BRAES O' BALQUHIDDER.' CHORUS. I'll kiss thee yet, yet, An' I'll kiss thee o'er again, My bonnie Peggy Alison ! ILK care and fear, when thou art near, When in my arms, wi' a' thy charms, And by thy een sae bonnie blue, This song was inserted in the "Musical Museum," p. 201, but without Burns' name, and it was first attributed to him by Cromek, in consequence of finding a copy in the Poet's hand among his papers. Peggy Alison, Mr. Allan Cunningham was informed, was who will be again mentioned. ་་ Montgomery's Peggy," ON CESSNOCK BANKS.* TUNE IF HE BE A BUTCHER NEAT AND TRIM.' ON Cessnock banks a lassie dwells;' An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een." She's sweeter than the morning dawn She's stately like yon youthful ash That grows the cowslip braes between, And drinks the stream with vigour fresh ;7 An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een." VAR. there lives a lass. 2 The graces of her weel-far'd face, This song was printed by Cromek" from the oral communication of a lady residing at Glasgow, whom the bard in early life affectionately admired," and he adds, "it was an early production." The following copy has been taken from the Poet's own manuscript, and the verses are presumed to be now for the first time correctly printed. She's spotless like' the flow'ring thorn An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een. 10 An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een." Her hair is like the curling mist 8 That climbs12 the mountain-sides at e'en, When flow'r-reviving rains are past; An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een." Her forehead's like the show'ry bow, When gleaming13 sunbeams intervene And gild the distant mountain's brow; An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een. Her cheeks are like yon crimson gem, The pride of all the flowery scene, Just opening on its thorny stem; An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een. Her teeth are like the nightly snow 8 An' she's twa glancin' sparklin' een. 9 sportive lamb. 10 When flow'ry May adorns the scene, 13 shining. Her lips are like yon" cherries ripe, That sunny walls from Boreas screen, They tempt the taste and charm the sight; An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een.15 Her teeth are like a flock of sheep, With fleeces newly washen clean, That slowly mount the rising steep; An' she's twa glancin' sparklin' een. Her breath is like the fragrant breeze Her voice is like the ev'ning thrush That sings on Cessnock banks unseen, While his mate sits nestling in the bush; An' she has twa sparkling rogueish een.15 But it's not her air, her form, her face, Tho' matching beauty's fabled queen, "Tis1 the mind that shines in ev'ry grace, An' chiefly in her rogueish" een. VAR. 14 the. 15 An' she's twa glancin' sparklin' een. 16 But. |