Written by
Robert Burns |
HERE awa, there awa, wandering Willie,
Here awa, there awa, haud awa hame;
Come to my bosom, my ain only dearie,
Tell me thou bring’st me my Willie the same.
Winter winds blew loud and cauld at our parting,
Fears for my Willie brought tears in my e’e,
Welcome nowhSimmer, and welcome, my Willie,
The Simmer to Nature, my Willie to me!
Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave of your slumbers,
How your dread howling a lover alarms!
Wauken, ye breezes, row gently, ye billows,
And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms.
But oh, if he’s faithless, and minds na his Nannie,
Flow still between us, thou wide roaring main!
May I never see it, may I never trow it,
But, dying, believe that my Willie’s my ain!
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Written by
Robert Burns |
Chorus. —Awa’ Whigs, awa’!
Awa’ Whigs, awa’!
Ye’re but a pack o’ traitor louns,
Ye’ll do nae gude at a’.
OUR thrissles flourish’d fresh and fair,
And bonie bloom’d our roses;
But Whigs cam’ like a frost in June,
An’ wither’d a’ our posies.
Awa’ Whigs, &c.
Our ancient crown’s fa’en in the dust—
Deil blin’ them wi’ the stoure o’t!
An’ write their names in his black beuk,
Wha gae the Whigs the power o’t.
Awa’ Whigs, &c.
Our sad decay in church and state
Surpasses my descriving:
The Whigs cam’ o’er us for a curse,
An’ we hae done wi’ thriving.
Awa’ Whigs, &c.
Grim vengeance lang has taen a nap,
But we may see him wauken:
Gude help the day when royal heads
Are hunted like a maukin!
Awa’ Whigs, &c.
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Written by
Robert Burns |
O STAY, sweet warbling woodlark, stay,
Nor quit for me the trembling spray,
A hapless lover courts thy lay,
Thy soothing, fond complaining.
Again, again that tender part,
That I may catch thy melting art;
For surely that wad touch her heart
Wha kills me wi’ disdaining.
Say, was thy little mate unkind,
And heard thee as the careless wind?
Oh, nocht but love and sorrow join’d,
Sic notes o’ woe could wauken!
Thou tells o’ never-ending care;
O’speechless grief, and dark despair:
For pity’s sake, sweet bird, nae mair!
Or my poor heart is broken.
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