Poem by Robert Burns

The Tither Morn

    THE tither morn,
    When I forlorn
Aneath an aik sat moaning,
    I did na trow
    I’d see my jo
Beside me, ‘gain the gloaming.
    But he sae trig
    Lap o’er the rig,
And dawtingly did cheer me,
    When I, what reck?
    Did least expec’
To see my lad so near me.

    His bonnet he,
    A thought ajee,
Cock’d sprush when first he clasp’d me;
    And I, I wat,
    Wi’ fainness grat,
While in his grips he press’d me.
    Deil tak’ the war!
    I late and ear’
Hae wish’d since Jock departed;
    But now as glad
    I’m wi’ my lad,
As short syne broken-hearted.

    Fu’ aft at een
    Wi’ dancing keen,
When a’ were blythe and merry,
    I car’d na by,
    Sae sad was I
In absence o’ my dearie.
    But, praise be blest!
    My mind’s at rest,
I’m happy wi’ my Johnny:
    At kirk and fair,
    I’se aye be there,
And be as canty’s ony.

1. I Gaed a Waefu' Gate Yestreen
2. Blythe Was She
3. The Flowery Banks of Cree
4. Farewell to Ballochmyle
5. Gala Water

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