The Braes of Branksome.
[This appears in the second volume of the Tea Table Miscellany with the title of "The Generous Gentleman, a song to the tune of the Bonnie Lass of Branksome." It was written by Ramsay himself. Mr. Robert Chambers says the song was founded on a real incident. "The bonnie lass was daughter to a woman who kept an alehouse at the hamlet near Branksome Castle, in Teviotdale. A young officer, of some rank,—his name we believe was Maitland,—happened to be quartered somewhere in the neighbourhood, saw, loved, and married her. So strange was such an alliance deemed in those days, that the old mother, under whose auspices it was performed, did not escape the imputation of witchcraft."]
As I cam' in by Teviot side,
And by the braes of Branksome,
There first I saw my bonnie bride,
Young, smiling, sweet, and handsome.
Her skin was safter than the down,
And white as alabaster;
Her hair, a shining, waving brown;
In straightness nane surpass'd her.
Life glow'd upon her lip and cheek,
Her clear een were surprising,
And beautifully turn'd her neck,
Her little breasts just rising:
Nae silken hose with gushats fine,
Or shoon with glancing laces,
On her bare leg, forbad to shine
Weel-shaped native graces.
Ae little coat and bodice white
Was sum o' a' her claithing;
E'en these oer muckle;—mair delight
She'd given clad wi' naething.
We lean'd upon a flowery brae,
By which a burnie trotted;
On her I glowr'd my soul away,
While on her sweets I doated.
A thousand beauties of desert
Before had scarce alarm'd me,
Till this dear artless struck my heart,
And, bot designing, charm'd me.
Hurried by love, close to my breast
I clasp'd this fund of blisses,—
Wha smiled, and said, Without a priest,
Sir, hope for nocht but kisses.
I had nae heart to do her harm,
And yet I couldna want her;
What she demanded, ilka charm
O' hers pled I should grant her.
Since heaven had dealt to me a routh,
Straight to the kirk I led her;
There plighted her my faith and trouth,
And a young lady made her.