The Book of Scottish Song/Auld Rob Morris 2

Auld Rob Morris.

[Written by Burns, for Thomson's collection, in November, 1792. Burns, it will be seen, borrows the two opening lines of the old song.]

There's auld Rob Morris, that wons in yon glen,
He's the king o' gude fellows, and wale o' auld men;
He has gowd in his coffers, and owsen and kine,
And ae bonnie lassie, his darling and mine.

She's fresh as the morning, the fairest in May;
She's sweet as the ev'ning amang the new hay;
As blythe and as artless as the lambs on the lea,
And dear to my heart as the licht o' my e'e.

But, oh, she's an heiress, auld Robin's a laird,
And my daddie has nocht but a cot-house and yard;
A wooer like me maunna hope to come speed;
The wounds I maun hide that will soon be my deid.

The day comes to me, but delight brings me nane,
The nicht comes to me, but my rest it is gane;
I wander my lane, like a nicht-troubled ghaist,
And I sigh as my heart it wad burst in my breist.

Oh, had she but been of a lower degree,
I then micht ha'e hoped she wad smiled upon me!
Oh, how past descriving had then been my bliss,
As now my distraction no words can express!

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