Robert Burns - PeggyRobert Burns - Peggy
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Now westlin winds and slaught`ring guns
Bring autumn`s pleasant weather;
And the moorcock springs, on whirring wings,
Amang the blooming heather;
Now waving grain, wide o`er the plain,
Delights the weary farmer;
And the moon shines bright, when I rove at night.
To muse upou my charmer.
The partridge loves the fruitful fells;
The plover loves the mountains;
The woodcock haunts tbe lonely dell;
The soaring hern the fountains:
Thro` lofty groves the cushat roves,
The path of man to shun it;
The hazel bush o`erhangs the thrush,
The spreading thorn the linnet.
Thus ev`ry kind their pleasure find,
The savage and the tender;
Some social join, and leagues combine
Some solitary wander:
Avaunt, away, the cruel sway!
Tyrannic man`s dominion;
The sportsman`s joy, the murd`ring cry,
The flutt`ring, gory pinion!
But Peggy dear, the evening`s clear,
Thick flies the skimming swallow;
The sky is blue, the fields in view,
All fading-green and yellow:
Come let us stray our gladsome way,
And view the charms of nature;
The rustling corn, the fruited thorn,
And every happy creature.
We`ll gently walk, and sweetly talk,
Till the silent moon shine clearly;
I`ll grasp thy waist, and, fondly prest,
Swear how I love thee dearly:
Not vernal show`rs to budding flow`rs,
Not autumn to the farmer,
So dear can be as thou to me,
My fair, my lovely charmer!
My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose
O, my luve is like a red, red rose,
That`s newly sprung in June.
O, my love is like a melodie,
That`s sweetly play`d in tune.
As fair thou art, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I,
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a` the seas gang dry.
Till a` the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi` the sun!
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands of life shall run.
And fare the weel, my only luve!
And fare the well awhile!
And I will come again, my love.
Tho` it were ten thousand mile!
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