Poem by Robert Anderson

Andrew’s Younger Dowter

Where Irthin rows to Eden's streams,
Thro' meedows sweetly stealin,
Owrhung by crags, hawf hid by furs,
There stands a cwozey dwellin;
And there's a lass wi' witchin feace,
Her luik gi'es pain or pleasure,
A rwose--bud hid frae pryin een,
The lads deleyte and treasure;
For when I saw her aw her leane,
I mair than mortal thought her,
And stuid amaz'd, and silent gaz'd
On Andrew's youngest dowter.

Her luik a captive meade my heart,
How matchless seem'd ilk feature!
The sun, in aw his yearly course,
Sheynes on nae fairer creature;
I watch'd her thro' the daisied howmes,
And pray'd for her returnin;
Then track'd her foot--marks through the wood,
My smitten heart aw burnin;--
Luive led me on; but when, at last,
In fancy meyne I thowt her,
I saw her awn dear happy lad
Meet Andrew's youngest dowter.

Sing sweet, ye wild birds i' the glens,
Where'er young Lizzy wanders;
Ye streams of Irthin, please her ears
Aw day wi' soft meanders;
And thou, the lad ay neist her heart,
Caress this bonny blossom--
Oh, never may the thworn o' care
Gi'e pain to sec a bosom!
Had I been king o' this weyde warl,
And kingdoms cud ha'e bought her,
I'd freely parted wi' them aw,
For Andrew's youngest dowter! 

1. Epitaph on Maria of the Cottage
2. Song 1. A Lassie and a Gill
3. Feckless Wully
4. Britannia’s Call
5. Mad Margery

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