AK' back the ring, dear Jamie,
The ring ye gae to me,
An' a' the vows ye made yestreen
Beneath the birken tree.
But gie me back my heart again,
It's a' I hae to gie;
Sin' ye'll no wait a fittin' time,
Ye canna marry me.
I promised to my daddie,
Afore he slipp'd awa,
I ne'er wad leave my minnie,
Whate'er sud her befa'.
I'll faithfu' keep my promise,
For a' that ye can gie:
Sae, Jamie, gif ye winna wait,
Ye ne'er can marry me.
I canna leave my minnie,
She's been sae kind to me
Sin' e'er I was a bairnie,
A wee thing on her knee.
Nae mair she'll caim my gowden hair, Nor busk me snod an' braw;
She's auld an' frail, her een are dim,
An' sune will close on a'.
I maunna leave my minnie,
Her journey is na lang;
Her heid is bendin' to the mools
Where it maun shortly gang.
Were I an heiress o' a crown,
I'd a' its honors tine,
To watch her steps in helpless age,
As she in youth watched mine.
\HE plague on Lizzie Laird, for my heid has ne'er been soun' Since her twa pawkie een gae my puir
Oh! I canna see her face, nor pass her cottage door,
But feelin's strange come ower me I never felt afore.
The little coaxin' smatchet! I wish I ne'er had seen
The roses on her dimpled cheeks, the glances o' her een;
They've tint my very heart, an' thrown ower me sic a spell,
I feel like ane bewitched, for I dinna feel mysel'.
Gif it's no a stoun' o' love, what else then can it be?
An' why should I lo'e Lizzie, if Lizzie lo'es na me
The wee bit teasin' cuttie, sae winsome an' sae kind,
Why should I allow a doot to harbor in my mind?
I ken her heart is warm, an' I ken her love is true;
It shines oot clear as truth in her bonnie een o' blue:
Through the journey o' my life how happy shall I be,
When wedded to my hinnie, O Lizzie Laird, to thee!
On the same bink at the schule our lessons we wad learn;
I then was but a callant, an' she was but a bairn:
Cauld will be this heart o' mine ere I forget the days
When youngsters we wad wander aboot our native braes.
I think I see the laverock up frae the clover spring;
I think I hear the mavis an' linties sweetly sing;
When my Lizzie, little doo! without a thocht o' sin,
Cam' skippin' ower the green fields to spier if I was in.
Aft in youthfu' rapture, when wild flowers were in bloom,
The wee birds' nests we'd herry amang the gowden broom;
Or wad aiblins howk for bikes in laughin' simmer glee,
An' a' the treasures steal o' the honey bumble bee.
Oh! fu' weel I mind the time, awa doun by the schaws,
Bare fitted we wad toddle to pu' the slaes an' haws;
An' for berries aften dander oot-ower the mossy fells,
Where hums the muirland bee, and where bloom the heather-bells.
Since I'm nae mair a callant, nor Lizzie mair a bairn,
I fain wad oot o' Nature's buik a manly lesson learn:
But what gars me be sae blate, an' feel sae muckle shame
To ask my ain sweet Lizzie to change her maiden name?
Noo, what to say to Lizzie I coof-like downa ken;
I've got a snug wee cot, wi' a cozie but an' ben;
I hae but little haudin', yet what I hae I'll share
Wi' my bonnie Lizzie Laird, the fairest o' the fair!
HERE green hills gently rise, and the Tweed is but a burn,
In pleasing dreams of fancy my footsteps oft return;
But sic happy days again I never mair may see;
Oh! then Jessie Paterson was a' the world to me.
Red rowans an' blae-berries in simmer we wad pu',
An' wi' licht hearts, free o' care, we promised to be true;
But how little do we ken what we're born to dree and tine,
Then a' her hopes an' prospects were bundled up wi' mine.
Oh! Blink-Bonny's buddin' rose was fairest o' the fair,
An' gracefully in ringlets hung down her gowden hair;
We never thocht o' changes the future had in store,
Or the pangs that it wad bring we dreamt-na o' before.
When her wee cozie biggin, weel theekit ower wi' straw,
Wi' Winter's robe was happit, afore March brocht a thaw;
Or when flowers wad bud in Spring, and braird was on the lea,
Oh! then Jessie Paterson was a' the world to me.
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