His head weel arm'd wi' pointed spears,
That no one should him wrong.
The sober Autumn enter'd mild,
When he grew wan and pale;
His bending joints and drooping head
Show'd he began to fail.
His colour sicken'd more and more,
He faded into age;
And then his enemies began
To show their deadly rage.
Thei've ta'en a weapon1 long and sharp,
And cut him by the knee;
Then tied him fast upon a cart,
Like a rogue for forgerie.
They laid him down upon his back,
And cudgell'd him full sore;
They hung him up before the storm,
And turn'd him o'er and o'er.
They filled up a darksome pit
With water to the brim;
They heavèd in John Barleycorn,
There, let him sink or swim!
"They took a hook was." MS. 2 "down at." MS.
They laid him out upon the floor
To work him further woe;
And still, as signs of life appear'd,
They toss'd him to and fro.
They wasted o'er a scorching flame
The marrow of his bones;
But a miller us'd him worst of all,
For he crush'd him 'tween two stones.
And they hae taen his very heart's blood,
And drunk it round and round;
And still the more and more they drank,
Their joy did more abound.
John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
Of noble enterprise;
For if you do but taste his blood,
"Twill make your courage rise.
"Twill make a man forget his woe;
"Twill' heighten all his joy;
"Twill make the widow's heart to sing,
Though the tear were in her eye.
Then let us toast John Barleycorn,
Each man a glass in hand;
And may his great posterity
Ne'er fail in old Scotland!
1 "They've throun." MS. 2 "And." MS.
BEHIND yon hills where Lugar1 flows,
'Mang moors an' mosses many, O,
The wintry sun the day has clos'd,
An' I'll awa to Nannie, O.
The westlin wind blaws loud an' shill:
The night's baith mirk and rainy, O;
But I'll get my plaid, an' out I'll steal,
An' owre the hills to Nannie, O.
My Nannie's charming, sweet, an' young;
Nae artfu' wiles to win ye, O:
May ill befa' the flattering tongue
That wad beguile my Nannie, O.
Her face is fair, her heart is true,
As spotless as she's bonnie, O:
The op'ning gowan, wat wi' dew,
Nae purer is than Nannie, O.
A country lad is my degree,
An' few there be that ken me, O;
But what care I how few they be?
I'm welcome aye to Nannie, O.
1 "Stinchar" in the author's editions, "rivulets flow" in Johnson's Museum. "Lugar" was chosen by Thomson, from four streams of which Burns gave him the names. 2 "The sun the weary." Johnson's Museum. One MS. has "weary" for "wintry." Burns, Poems.
My riches a's my penny-fee,
An' I maun guide it cannie, O;
But warl's gear ne'er troubles me,
My thoughts are a' my Nannie, O.
Our auld guidman3 delights to view
His sheep an' kye thrive bonnie, O;
But I'm as blythe that hauds his pleugh,
An has nae care but Nannie, O.
Come weel, come woe, I care na by,
I'll tak' what Heav'n will send me, O;
Nae ither care in life ha'e I,
But live, an' love my Nannie, O.
THE GLOOMY NIGHT IS GATHERING FAST.
THE gloomy night is gath'ring fast,
Loud roars the wild inconstant blast;
Yon murky cloud is foul with rain,
I see it driving o'er the plain;
The hunter now has left the moor,
The scatter'd coveys meet secure;
While here I wander prest with care,
Along the lonely banks of Ayr.
1 "Our Guidman." Johnson's Museum.
The Autumn mourns her rip'ning corn,
By early Winter's ravage torn;
Across her placid, azure sky,
She sees the scowling tempest fly;
Chill runs my blood to hear it rave1;
I think upon the stormy wave,*
Where many a danger I must dare,
Far from the bonnie banks of Ayr.
'Tis not the surging billows roar,
'Tis not that fatal deadly shore:
Tho' death in every shape appear,
The wretched have no more to fear!
But round my heart the ties are bound,
That heart transpierc'd with many a wound
These bleed afresh, those ties I tear,
To leave the bonnie banks of Ayr.
Farewell old Coila's hills and dales,
Her heathy moors and winding vales;
The scenes where wretched fancy roves,
Pursuing past, unhappy loves!
Farewell, my friends! farewell, my foes!
My peace with these, my love with those-
The bursting tears my heart declare;
Farewell the bonnie banks of Ayr!
1 One MS. has "The whistling wind affrightens me." MS. has "raging sea."
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