The ruddy morn has charms enow, when, from the glowin' sky, The sun on rival beauties smiles wi' gladness in his eye; But, oh! the softer shaded scene has magic in its power, Which cheers the youthful lover's heart at e'ening's dewy hour!
A handloom weaver in Paisley, of which place he is a native, Charles Fleming has, from early youth, devoted his leisure hours to the pursuits of elegant literature. He has long been a contributor to the public journals.
When others are boasting 'bout fetes and parades, Whar silken hose shine, and glitter cockades, In the low-thatched cot mair pleasure I feel To discourse wi' the aul'-farint Watty M'Neil.
The gentles may hoot, and slip by his door; His mien it is simple, his haudin' is poor: Aft fashion encircles a heart no sae leal-- Far, far will ye ride for a Watty M'Neil.
His welcome is touching, yet nought o' the faun-- A warmth is express'd in the shake o' his han'; His cog and his bed, or ought in his biel, The lonely will share frae kind Watty M'Neil.
He kens a' 'bout Scotland, its friends and its foes, How Leslie did triumph o'er gallant Montrose; And the Covenant's banner ower Philiphaugh's fiel' Waved glorious--'twas noble, says Watty M'Neil.
Then gang and see Watty ere laid in the mools, He 's a help to the wise folk, a lesson to fools; Contentment and innocence mingle sae weel Mid the braw lyart haffits o' Watty M'Neil.
The author of several esteemed and popular songs, William Ferguson, follows the avocation of a master plumber in Nicolson Street, Edinburgh. Born within the shadow of the Pentlands, near the scene of Ramsay's "Gentle Shepherd," he has written verses from his youth. He has contributed copiously to "Whistle Binkie," and "The Book of Scottish Song."
I 'll tend thy bower, my bonnie May, In spring time o' the year; When saft'ning winds begin to woo The primrose to appear; When daffodils begin to dance, And streams again flow free; And little birds are heard to pipe, On the sprouting forest tree.
I 'll tend thy bower, my bonnie May, When summer days are lang, When nature's heart is big wi' joy, Her voice laden wi' sang; When shepherds pipe on sunny braes, And flocks roam at their will, And auld and young, in cot an' ha', O' pleasure drink their fill.