Though this was fair, and that was braw, O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace, A thought ungentle canna be The thought o' Mary Morison. WANDERING WILLIE. HERE awa, there awa, wandering Willie, Tell me thou bringst me my Willie the same. Winter winds blew loud and cauld at our parting; Fears for my Willie brought tears in my e'e: Welcome now simmer, and welcome my Willie, The simmer to nature, my Willie to me. Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave of your slumbers, How your dread howling a lover alarms! Wauken, ye breezes, row gently, ye billows, And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms. But O! if he's faithless, and minds na his Nannie, Flow still between us, thou wide-roaring main; May I never see it, may I never trow it, But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain! JESSIE. TUNE-"Bonny Dundee." TRUE hearted was he, the sad swain o' the Yarrow, Enthroned in her e'en he delivers his law; WHEN WILD WAR'S DEADLY BLAST WAS BLAWN. AIR-"The mill mill O." WHEN wild war's deadly blast was blawn, And gentle peace returning, Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless, And mony a widow mourning, I left the lines and tented field, My humble knapsack a' my wealth, A leal, light heart was in my breast, I cheery on did wander. I thought upon the banks o' Coil, I thought upon the witching smile That's dearest to thy bosom ! Sae wistfully she gazed on me, And lovelier was than ever: Forget him shall I never: Ye freely shall partake it, She sank within my arms, and cried, I am the man; and thus may still The wars are o'er, and I'm come hame, Thou'rt welcome to it dearly! For gold the merchant ploughs the main, The sodger's wealth is honour; SONG. TUNE-"Logan Water." O LOGAN, Sweetly didst thou glide, That day I was my Willie's bride; And years sinsyne has o'er us run, Like Logan to the simmer sun. Young Robie was the brawest lad, The flower and pride o' a' the glen; And he had owsen, sheep, and kye, And wanton naigies nine or ten. He gaed wi' Jeanie to the tryste, He danced wi' Jeanie on the down; And lang ere witless Jeanie wist, Her heart was tint, her peace was stown. As in the bosom o' the stream, The moonbeam dwells at dewy e'en; And now she works her mammie's wark, Or what wad mak her weel again. But did na Jeanie's heart loup light, The sun was sinking in the west, And whisper'd thus his tale o' love: O Jeanie fair, I lo❜e thee dear; Now's the day and now's the hour; Wha will be a traitor knave? Traitor! coward! turn and flee! Wha for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or freeman fa', Caledonian! on wi' me! By oppression's woes and pains! FOR A' THAT, AND A' THAT. Is there, for honest poverty, That hangs his head, and a' that; The coward slave, we pass him by, We dare be poor for a' that! For a' that, and a' that, Our toil's obscure and a' that, The rank is but the guinea stamp, The man's the gowd for a' that. What though on hamely fare we dine, Wear hoddin gray, and a' that; Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, A man's a man for a' that; For a' that, and a' that, Their tinsel show, and a' that; The honest man, though e'er sae poor, Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord, Wha struts, and stares, and a' that; His riband, star, and a' that, Their dignities, and a' that, That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, For a' that, and a' that, It's coming yet, for a' that, That man to man, the warld o'er, Shall brothers be for a' that. SCOTTISH BALLAD. TUNE-"The Lothian Lassie." LAST May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen, I said there was nothing I hated like men; He spak o' the darts in my bonnie black e'en, I said he might die when he liked, for Jean; A weel-stocked mailen, himsel for the laird, I never loot on that I kenn'd it, or cared, But thought I might hae waur offers, waur offers, But what wad ye think? in a fortnight or less, He up the lang loan to my black cousin Bess; Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her, could bear her, Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her. I spier'd for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet, And how her new shoon fit her auld shachl't feet, He begg'd, for Gudesake! I wad be his wife, SONG. to-morrow, TUNE-" Here's a health to them that's awa, hiney." CHORUS. Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear, ALTHOUGH thou maun never be mine, "Tis sweeter for thee despairing, Than aught in the world beside-Jessy! I mourn through the gay, gaudy day, I guess by the dear angel smile, I guess by the love-rolling e'e; But why urge the tender confession 'Gainst fortune's fell, cruel decree-Jessy! Here's a health, &c. THE BIRKS OF ABERFELDY. Bonnie lassie, will ye go, will ye go, will ye go, Now simmer blinks on flowery braes, Bonnie lassie, &c. While o'er their heads the hazels hing, The braes ascend like lofty wa's, Bonnie lassie, &c. The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi' flowers, Bonnie lassie, &c. Let fortune's gifts at random flee, I LOVE MY JEAN. TUNE "Miss Admiral Gordon's Strathspey." Or a' the airts the wind can blaw, I dearly like the west, For there the bonnie lassie lives, The lassie I lo'e best: There wild woods grow, and rivers row, And mony a hill between ; But day and night my fancy's flight Is ever wi' my Jean. I see her in the dewy flowers, I hear her in the tunefu' birds, I hear her charm the air: There's not a bonnie flower that springs, JOHN ANDERSON MY JO. JOHN ANDERSON my jo, John, When we were first acquent ; Your locks were like the raven, Your bonnie brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John, Your locks are like the snaw; But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson my jo. John Anderson my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither; And mony a canty day, John, We've had wi' ane anither: Now we maun totter down, John, But hand and hand we'll go, And sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson my jo. THE POSIE. O LUVE will venture in, where it daur na weel be seen, O luve will venture in, where wisdom ance has been; But I will down yon river rove, amang the wood sae green, And a' to pu' a posie to my ain dear May. The primrose I will pu', the firstling o' the year, And I will pu' the pink, the emblem o' my dear, For she's the pink o' womankind, and blooms without a peer; And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. I'll pu' the budding rose when Phoebus peeps in view, For it's like a baumy kiss o' her sweet bonnie mou; The hyacinth's for constancy wi' its unchanging blue, And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. The lily it is pure, and the lily it is fair, And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. The woodbine I will pu' when the e'ening star is near, And the diamond draps o' dew shall be her e'en sae clear: The violet's for modesty which weel she fa's to wear, And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. I'll tie the posie round wi' the silken band of luve, And I'll place it in her breast, and I'll swear by a' above, That to my latest draught o' life the band shall ne'er remuve, And this will be a posie to my ain dear May. THE BANKS O' DOON. YE banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair; How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae weary, fu' o' care! Thou'lt break my heart, thou warbling bird, That wantons through the flowering thorn: Thou minds me o' departed joys, Departed never to return. Oft hae I rov'd by bonnie Doon, To see the rose and woodbine twine; And ilka bird sang o' its luve, And fondly sae did I o' mine. Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree : But my fause luver stole my rose, SONG. TUNE-"Catharine Ogie." YE flowery banks o' bonnie Doon, Thou'l break my heart, thou bonnie bird When my fause luve was true. Thou'l break my heart, thou bonnie bird Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon, And sae did I o' mine. Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, Frae aff its thorny tree, And my fause luver staw the rose, SIC A WIFE AS WILLIE HAD. WILLIE WASTLE dwalt on Tweed, Cou'd stown a clue wi' ony bodie; She has an e'e, she has but ane, A clapper tongue wad deave a miller; She's bow-hough'd, she's hein-shinn'd, Auld baudrans by the ingle sits, An' wi' her loof her face a-washin; But Willie's wife is nae sae trig, She dights her grunzie wi' a hushion; Her walie nieves like midden-creels, Her face wad fyle the Logan-Water: Sic a wife as Willie had, I wad na gie a button for her. WILT THOU BE MY DEARIE? WILT thou be my dearie ? When sorrow wrings thy gentle heart, O wilt thou let me cheer thee? By the treasure of my soul, And that's the love I bear thee! I swear and vow, that only thou Shall ever be my dearie. Only thou, I swear and vow, Shall ever be my dearie. Lassie, say thou lo'es me; Or if thou wilt na be my ain, If it winna, canna be, Lassie, let me quickly die, FOR THE SAKE OF SOMEBODY. My heart is sair for somebody; I could range the world around, Ye powers that smile on virtuous love, And send me safe my somebody Oh-hey! for somebody! I wad do what wad I not? A RED, RED ROSE. O MY luve's like a red, red rose, That's sweetly play'd in tune |