Rough Scan



AIR - "_Caledonia._"

O! SCOTLAND'S hills are bonny hills,
=A' clad wi' leather bells,
And music warbles in the rills
=Which sport adown the dells;
And there be glens in fair Scotland
=Where foe hath never been,
And wild and free we'll keep them yet
==For our young Queen!

O! wad she cross the Tweed some day,
=Our Scottish glens to view,
Our fairy lakes and streamlets grey,
=Lone isles and mountains blue.
And see auld Scotland's goodly bands,
=Wi' belt and buckle sheen,
In proud array come forth to greet
==Their fair young Queen!

For Scotland has her yeomen leal,
=And sturdy loons they be,
That whirl, like willow wands, their steel,
=When marshall'd on the lea.
And should a foe invade our soil,
=No braver band, I ween,
Would fight beneath the banners broad
=Of our young Queen!

And Scotland has her clansmen brave,
=Who bear the targe and brand;
Who'd spend their dearest blood to save
=Their own romantic land.
And they would leave their hills of mist,
=And glens of lovely green,
To form a living balwark round
==Their fair young Queen!

And Scotland has her lovely ones,
=A beauteous train are they;
But much she mourns her tuneful sons,
=Her bards and minstrels gray.
For they who wak'd her sweetest lyres,
=Sleep 'neath the turf so green,
We've few to sing the welcome now
==Of our young Queen!

We've heard of merry England's scenes,
=And trusty souls are there;
And Erin boasts her green domains,
=Rich woods, and prospects fair.
But Scotland boasts her stormy hills,
=Where freemen aye have been,
O come and let us doat on thee,
==Our fair young Queen!

=======James Murray.


_Set to Music by Peter M'Leod, Esq._

My auld uncle Willie cam doun here free Lunnon,
=An' wow but he was a braw man;
An' a' my puir cousins around him cam rinnin',
=Frae mony a lang mile awa, man.
My uncle was rich, my uncle was proud-
He spak o' his gear, and he bragg'd o' his gowd;
An' whate'er he hinted, the puir bodies vow'd
=They wad mak it their love an' their law, man.

He staid wi' them a' for a week time about,
=Feastin', an' fuddlin', an' a', man,
Till their pantries and patience he baith riddled out,
=An' they thocht he was ne'er gaun awa', man.
And neither he was; he had naething to do,
He had made a' their fortunes and settled them too;
Though they ne'er saw a boddle they'd naething to say,
=For they thocht they wad soon hae it a', man.

But when our braw uncle had stay'd here a year,
=I trow but he wasna a sma' man,
Their tables cam down to their auld hamilt cheer,
=An' he gat himsel' book'd to gae 'wa', man.
Yet e'er the coach started, the hale o' his kin
Cam to the coach-door, maistly chokin' him in,
And they prest on him presents o'a' they could fin',
=An' he vow'd he had _done_ for them a', man.

And sae did he too; for he never cam' back,
=My sang! but he wasna a raw man,
To feast for a year without paying a pluck,
=An' gang wi' sic presents awa', man.
An' aften he bragg'd how he cheated the greed
O' his grey gruppy kinsmen be-north o' the Tweed.
The best o't, when auld uncle Willie was dead,
=He left them-_just naething ava, man._

=======James Ballantine.


_A Nursery Rhyme._

WEE WILLIE WINKIE rins through the toon,
Up stairs an' doon stairs in his nicht-gown,
Tirlin' at the window, crying at the lock,
"Are the weans in their bed, for it's now ten o'clock?"

"Hey Willie Winkie, are ye comin' ben?
The cat's singin' grey thrums to the sleepin' hen,
The dog's speldert on the floor and disna gie a cheep,
But here's a waukrife laddie, that _wunna fa' asleep._"

Onything but sleep, you rogue, glow'ring like the moon,
Rattlin' in an airn jug wi' an airn spoon,
Rumblin', tumblin' roon about, crawin' like a cock,
Skirlin like a kenna-what, waukenin' sleepin' fock.

"Hey Willie Winkie, the wean's in a creel,
Wamblin' aff a bodie's knee like a verra eel,
Ruggin' at the cat's lug and raveling a' her thrums-
Hey Willie Winkie-see there he comes."

Wearit is the mither that has a stoorie wean,
A wee, stumpie, stousie, that canna rin his lane,
That has a battle aye wi' sleep afore he'll close an e'e-
But a kiss frae aff his rosy lips, gies strength anew to me.

=======William Miller.


AIR - "_When the kye come hame._"

While drinkers revel in excess, let tenty folk abstain,
The spendthrift meet the knave's caress, the miser hoard his gain,
We scorn excess in ilka form, and keep the line between,
Aye steerin' clear o' calm and storm, when o'er a glass at e'en.

Wi' it the auld heart canty grows, the waefu' cease to mourn,
Within ilk breast a feeling lows, that heats but disna burn,
The niggard's hand it opens wide, and makes the simple keen,
A magic change that winna hide, springs frae a glass at e'en.

When nith'rin cares begin to bite, and life's gay spring runs dull,
Afore sic showers o' life and light, they tide it fresh and full,
Ilk clud frae aff the mind it blaws, and leaves the soul serene,
An' ilka frosty feeling thaws, outowre a glass at e'en.

The tale that's told o' ithers' wo comes wi' a sharper thrill,
And melts and moulds wi' kindly glow, ilk passion to its Will,
Our very feelings, thaw'd wi' it, to virtue's side will lean,
It waukens pity, sharpens wit, a canny glass at e'en.

The stane that plumbs the sleeping pool, an eddy frae it springs,
Till owre the surface nought is found but wavy wimplin rings,
And so the stagnant, selfish heart, where feeling ne'er was seen,
Wi' kindness circles and expands, when owre a glass at e'en.

When round the fire we tak our sup, ilk feelin' brighter beams,
The ills o' life a' bundled up, leave nought but pleasant dreams,
Ilk object bears a warmer tint, afore that wasna seen,
Ane likes the warld and a' that's in't, when o'er a glass at e'en.

=======Mr A. Foster.


THERE'S joy in the Lowlands and Highlands,
There's joy in the hut and the ha';
The pride o' auld Britain's fair islands,
Is woo'd and wedded an' a':
She's got the dear lad o' her choosing-
A lad that's baith gallant and braw;
And lang may the knot be a-loosing
That firmly has buckled the twa.
==Woo'd an' wedded an' a',
==Buckled an' bedded an' a',
==The loveliest lassie in Britain
==Is woo'd an' wedded an' a'.

May heaven's all-bountiful Giver
Shower down his best gifts on the twa;
May love round their couch ever hover,
Their hearts close and closer to draw.
May never misfortune o'ertake them,
Nor blasts' adversity blaw;
But every new morning awake them
To pleasures unsullied as snaw.
==Woo'd an' wedded an' a', &c.

Then here's to our Queen an' her Marrow,
May happiness ay be their fa',
May discord and sickness and sorrow
Be banished for ever their ha'.
So, fy let us coup aff our bicker,
And toast meikle joy to the twa,
And may they, till life's latest flicker,
Together in harmony draw.
==Woo'd and wedded an' a', &c.

=======Alex. Rodger.


AIR - "_Cutty-spoon an' tree-ladle._"

THE auld gudewife gade out at e'en,
An' owre the craft her leefu' lane,
An' sought her kye and cried them hame,
An ca'd them ilka ane by name.
Come hame, ye jauds! the byre is clean,
Your lair is made o' the breckans green,
An' the yellow clover fills your sta;
Come hame, ye jauds! - come here awa'.
=Come hame, &c.

What hauds the house i' saip an' saut,
What buys the houps to brew the maut,
An' mony a needfu' thing forbye?
Atweel its just my four gude kye.
Better kye there's nae i' the braes,
Brownie for butter, Brandie for cheese,
Hawkie for milk, Hornie for whey;
I wat fu' weel I'm proud o' my kye.
=Better kye, &c.

=======Alex Laing.


"Mary, Mary, long have I
Heaved for thee the weary sigh."
=="Oh!" said she,
"Canst thou not some kindness shew
Him that doteth on thee so?"
=="No!" said she.

"Hast thou not, upon my breast,
Love as warm as mine confessed!"
=="Oh!" said she,
"I charge thee, then, if thou art true,
Do as love would have thee do."
=="No" said she.

"By that cheek, whose living red
Shames the tint o'er rose-leaves shed!"
=="Oh!" said she,
"Let that cheek, I charge thee, know
Love's deeper, richer, warmer, glow!"
=="No!" said she.

"By thine eye, whose dazzling blue
Dulls the light of heaven's own hue!"
=="Oh" said she,
"Let, I charge thee, love inspire
That holy eye with subtler fire!"
=="No!" said she.

"Still one plea remains at least,
Might not we go seek the priest?"
=="Oh!" said she,
"If I asked you there to fly,
Could you still my suit deny?-
=="No!" said she.

=======Muchanan Wall.


AIR - "_Fake away._"

SEE, see that each glass, and each jug be full,
=Each jug be full!
We must have a strong, and a powerful pull,
==Drink away!
And I'll tell you to-night, if you all agree,
A bit of my mind in a melodie,
=Then drink away, boys, drink away!
=Steadily, readily, drink away!

I know there are fools in this world who sneer,
=In this world who sneer,
At our merry songs, and our hearty cheer,
==Drink away,
But wine is good is wise Solomon's say,
To fill up the cracks in our thirsty clay,
=Then drink away, boys, drink away!
=Cheerily, merrily, drink away!

See, see that ye fill, boys! for time and tide,
=For time and tide,
The old sages say, will on no man bide,
==Drink away!
But what care we how the tides may go,
When the rivers of wine beside us flow?
=Then drink away, boys, drink away!
=Steadily, readily, drink away!

I wish that the wise in their solemn schools,
=In their solemn schools,
Would mix with their mournful, some merry rules,
==Drink away!
And if wisdom, old lady, wont dry her tears,
We must pack her off with our roaring cheers;
=Then drink away, boys, drink away!
=Cheerily, merrily, drink away!

See, see that you fiil, boys! come now a toast!
=Come now a toast!
Here's a health to the lass each lad loves most!
==Drink away!
And thick be the thorns on his life's highway,
Who would a sweet lass, or a friend betray!
=Then drink away, boys, drink away!
=Steadily, readily, drink away!

=======A MacLaggan.


AIR - "_Dainty Davie._"

O! MONY ills we ken thee bie,
=Drinkin' body, blinkin' body;
And fearfu' ills I wat they be,
=Auld drinkin', blinkin' body.
O! mony ills we ken thee bie,
=Thy tremblin han', and sunken e'e,
The sad effects o' barley-bree,
=Poor drinkin', blinkin' body.

Thou's scarce a dud upon thy back,
=Reckless body, feckless body!
Whilk ance was clad right bein, alack!
=Auld reckless, feckless body!
Thou's scarce a dud upon thy back,
=Just like a house without its thack!
And yet thou'lt fuddle ilka plack,
=Poor reckless, feckless body.

Thou boasted ance thy lands to plough,
=Tauntin' body, vauntin' body;
Thy sax guid yads as ever drew,
=Auld tauntin', vauntin' body;
Thou boasted ance thy lands to plough;
=A butt, a ben, and aumry fu',
But whar the mischief are they now?
=Poor tauntin', vauntin' body.

Now, thou's neither milk nor meal,
=Senseless body, mensless body,
Buttered cake, nor kebbuc heel,
=Auld senseless, mensless body.
Now thou's neither milk nor meal,
=Weel stook'd byre, nor cozy beil;
Thou's dancin' daily to the deil!
=Poor mensless, senseless body.

Gif sober housewife say thou's wrang,
=Tatter'd body, batter'd body.
When 'gainst her winnock thou com'st bang,
=Auld tatter'd, batter'd body.
Gif sober housewife say thou's wrang,
=Thou bids her for a witch gae hang,
'Syne dings her wi' a roguish sang,
=Poor tatter'd, hatter'd body.

For gudesake mend while yet thou can,
=Witless body, fitless body;
Foresake thy drouthy, clouty clan,
=Auld witless, fitless, body.
For gudesake mend, if yet thou can;
='Tis human nature's wisest plan,
To sink the brute and raise the man!
=Poor witless, fitless body.

=======A MacLaggan.


=O! MAY, dear May,
=A thousand welcomes, May!
At sight of thee my spirit springs
Aloft, as it were borne on wings!
=Nor care, nor toil,
=I reck the while
I'm basking in thy glorious smile,
Upon thy bosom, May.

=O! May, dear May,
=Fond, flowery-bosom'd May!
Thy briery-scented breath again
Plays round my cheek, as fresh as when
=Upon tbe green,
=From morn till e'en,
With dallyings of love between,
I danced with thee, young May.

=O! May, dear May,
=Blithe, song-inspicing May!
Thy joyful presence setteth free
The slumb'ring founts of melody.
=And young and old,
=The dull, the cold,
Their summer songs and hearts unfold,
To greet thy coming, May.

=O! May, dear May,
=Sport, laughter-loving May!
His we to thy woodbine bowers,
Nor idly spend the fleeting hours,
=For soon, too soon!
=The waning moon
Will bring thy buxom sister, June,
And banish thee, sweet May.

=O! May, dear May,
=Ripe, rosy-lipped May,
'Tho' brief the while thou ling'rest here
I'll woo thee all the coming year;
=For she, sweet life!
=My promised wife,
With every charm of nature rife,
Thine image is, my May.

=O! May, dear May,
=Mine own loved natal May,
Thy blessed light it was which first
Upon mine infant eyelids burst:
=And when they close,
=With all my woes,
And I am laid to long repose,
Light thou my grave, loved May.

========W Fergusson.


AIR - "_Brose and Butter._"

=OUR May had an e'e to a man,
==Nae less than the newly-placed Preacher;
=And we plotted a dainty bit plan
==For trapping our spiritual teacher.
O, we were sly, sly!  O, we were sly and sleekit!
But ne'er say a herring is dry until it be reestit and rookit.

=We treated young Mr M'Gock,
==We plied him wi' tea and wi' toddy;
=And we praised every word that he spoke,
==Till we put him maist out o' the body.
===O, we were sly, sly! &c.

=And then we grew a' unco guid-
==Made lang faces aye in due season;
=When to feed us wi' spiritual fuid,
==Young Mr M'Gook took occasion.
===O, we were sly, sly! &c.

=Frae the kirk we were never awa',
==Except when frae hame he was helping;
=And then May, and often us a',
==Gaed far and near after him skelping.
===O, we were sly, sly! &c.

=We said aye, which our neighbours thought droll,
==That to hear him gang through wi' a sermon,
=Was, though a wee dry on the whole,
==As refreshing as dews on Mount Hermon.
===O, we were sly, sly! &c.

=But to come to the heart o' the nit-
==The dainty bit plan that we plotted
=Was to get a subscription afit,
==And a _watch_ to the minister voted.
===O, we were sly, sly! &c.

=The young women folk o' the kirk,
==By turns lent a hand in collecting;
=But May took the feck o' the wark,
==And the trouble the rest o' directing.
===O, we were sly, sly! &c.

=A gran' watch was gotten belyve,
==And May, wi' sma' prigging, consentit
=To be ane o' a party o' five
==To gang to the Manse and present it.
===O, we were sly, sly! &c.

=We a' gled a word o' advice
==To May in a deep consultation,
=To hae something to say unco nice,
==And to speak for the hale deputation.
===O, we were sly, sly! &c.

=Taking present and speech baith in hand,
==May delivered a bonny palaver,
=To let Mr M'Gock understand
==How zealous she was in his favour.
===O, we were sly, sly! &c.

=She said that the gift was to prove
==That his female friends valued him highly,
=But it couldna express a' their love;
==And she glintit her e'e at him slyly.
===O, we were sly,sly,! &c.

=He put the gold watch in his fab,
==And proudly he said he would wear it;
=And, after some flattering gab,
==Tauld May he was gaun to be marryit.
O, we were sly, sly!  O, we were sly and sleekit!
But Mr M'Gock was nae gowk wi' our dainty bit plan to be cleckit.

=May cam' hame wi' her heart at her mouth,
==And became frae that hour a Dissenter;
=And now she's renewing her youth.
==Wi' some hopes o' the Burgher precentor.
O, but she's sly, sly!  O, but she's sly and sleekit!
And cleverly opens ae door as soon as anither ane's steckit.

======Wm. Carufs.


YOU'LL may spoke o' ta fittle, you'll may preg o' ta flute,
Ay an' clafer o' pynas, pass trums, clairnet an' lute,
Put ta far pestest music you'll may heard, or will fan,
Is ta kreat Hielan pagpipe, ta kran Hielan pagpipe, ta prite o' ta lan'.

O! tere is no one can knew all her feelin', her thought,
When ta soon o' ta piproch, will langsyne to her prought
An' her mint whirl rount apout wi' ta pleasure once fan,
When she hears ta kreat pagpipe, to kran, &c.

A teefishal lee is tolt apout Orpus, poor shiel,
Who went awa' toon to peg her wife pack frae ta teil,
Toy'll tolt tat she sharm'd Satan wi a lute in her han',
No such thing, 'twas ta pagpipe, ta kran Hielan, &c.

It is lang since ako, tey'll spoke o' music ta got,
(Apollo tey ca' her) put she'll thocht fery ott
Tat tey'll paint her, so ponny, wi' a lyre in her han',
When tey'll knew 'twas the pagpipe, &c.

Fan to Greek wi' him's pibrochs sharmed Allister Mhor,
And made him's heart merry - and made him's heart sore,
Made him greet like a childrens, and swore like a man,
Was't his lyre? - 'twas ta pagpipe, &c.

Whan ta clans all pe kather't, an' all reaty for fought,
To ta soon o' ta fittle, woult tey march, tid you'll thought?
No, not a foot woult tey went, not a claymore pe trawn,
Till tey heard ta kreat pagpipe, ta kran, &c.

'Whan ta funeral is passin' slow, slow through to klen,
Ta hearts all soft wi' ouskie, what prings tears from ta men?
Tis ta Coronach's loot wail soonin', solemn an' kran,
From ta kreat Hielan pagpipe, ta kran Hielan, &c.

Whan ta wattin' teuks place, O! what shoy, frolic, an' fun,
An' ta peoples all meetit, an' ta proose has peen run,
Tere's no music for tancin', has yet efer peen fan,
Like to kreat Hielan pagpipe, ta kran Hielan, &c.

O, tat she hat worts to tolt all her lofe an' telight
She has in ta pagpipe, twoult teuk long, long years to write;
Put she'll shust teuk a trap pefore her task she'll pegan;
So here's to ta pagpipe, to kran Hielan pagpipe, ta prite o ta lan'.

========Alex Fisher.


O! I ha'e seen the wild flowers blaw
=On gentle Spring's returnin',
O! I ha'e seen the sere leaves fa',
=And Nature clad in mournin';
But even then, my heart was light,
=I knew nor care nor sorrow;
For Fancy painted a' things bright,
=And Hope smiled on the morrow.

Now, waes my heart! the flowers may blaw,
=The fleeting seasons vary;
I only mark the leaves that fa'
=Around the grave o' Mary!
The moaning winds of Winter rise,
=And on the ear come swellin';
While crisp and cauld the cranreuch lies
=Upon her lonely dwellin'.

=======Charles Grey.


THE gloamin' is gloomin', the daylight awa',
Adown the lang loanin' the owsen come slaw,
Lowne sings the mavis on yonder auld tree,
And the lark leaves the clud for its nest on the lee;
=As I wend through the wild wood, the dark wood, sae eerie,
=As I wend through the lang wood to meet thee, my dearie.

The auld crazy mill seems to deepen its din,
While louder the burnie rairs o'er the wee lin,
And the howl of the mastiff, sae long and sae drear,
'Maist dauntens my heart as it fa's on my ear.
=As I wend, &c.

Nae moon climbs the dull lift, sae bare and sae blue,
Whare ae little starnie looks glimmering through;
And the saft westlin' breeze as it passes me by,
Lifts the locks frae my brow wi'a pitifu' sigh.
=As I wend, &c.

Ilk wee bird has faulded its wing for the night,
And the howlet belyve, frae yon auld turret's height,
Whare it dazes its lane, will be hootin' awa'
To the wandering sterns as they rise and they fa'.
=Then haste through the wild wood, the dark wood sae eerie,
=Haste, haste through the lang wood to meet me, my dearie.

=======W. Ferguson.


TO our borough my lord in his chariot rolled,
And his flunkies were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the smile on his face, and the glance of his e'e
Seemed as fair to my sight as the flowers on the lea.

Like bees round their hives when the summer is green,
The councillors all round the tavern were seen;
Like bees when the leaves of the forest are strewn,
That party by midnight were all overthrown.

For the steam of the alcohol rose to their brains,
And the window-frames shook with their bacchanal strains,
And in bumpers they drank to his lordship's success,
Till they dropt on the carpet like pears on the grass.

And there lay the butcher in holiday pride,
Not a cowl on his head, nor a steel by his side,
And the _sugh_ of the sleeper waxed noisier still,
Though the shoemaker bawled for a _finishing_ gill.

And there lay the tailor dejected and wan,
A shriveled abortion, - a fraction of man;-
And the room is all silent, the carpet all wet;
The tumblers demolished, the tables upset.

And the matrons were angry and loud in their wail,
That their doves had imbibed so much whisky and ale;
But a compliment kindly and decently shored,
And they melted in smiles at the glance of my lord!

=======D. Vedder.


AIR - "_Will ye gang to the ewe-bughts, Marion?_"

NAINSEL frae ta hills wad pe flittin',
=An' come to a toon on ta coast:
An' as it was proper and fittin',
=She soon got a shentleman's post.
Her cousin ta laird o' Petgrunsel
=A letter did send in a crack;
An' syne frae ta provos' an' council
=She got a _toon_-coat on her back!

She disna pe drink in ta mornin',
=Except it be trams ane or twa;
An' when ta lord provos' gies warnin',
=She aye studes his henchman fu' pra.
She disna pe drink in ta e'enin',
=Unless it pe four or five cann;
An' if she pehaves where she's peen in.
=She'll soon pe ta provos' pest man.

She marches ilk week to ta preachin',
=An' shoulders her halbert like daft;
An' aye while ta minister's teachin',
=She sleeps in ta magistrate's laft.
But though she's o' shentle connexion,
=She scorns for to prag or to plaw;
Weel may ye deshest your refection!
=Goot nicht, Sirs, an' shoy wi' ye a'!

=======D. Vedder.


AIR - "_Johnny Cope._"

NAINSEL she was porn 'mang ta Hielan' hills,
'Marig ta goats, an' ta sheeps, an' ta whiskee stills,
An' ta brochan, an' brogues, an' ta snuishin' mills,
=Oich! she was ta ponnie land she was porn in:
For a' ta lads there will be shentlemans porn,
An' will wear _skean-dhu_ an' ta praw snuishin'-horn,
An' ta fine tartan trews her praw houghs to adorn,
=An' mak her look fu' spruce in ta mornin'.

Noo, ta shentlemans will no like to wroughtin' at a,
But she'll sit py ta _grieshack_ her haffets to claw;
An' pe birsie her shanks, till they're red as ta haw,
=An' a fu' o' measles ilka mornin'.
But her nainsel' at last to ta Lalans cam' doon,
An' will got her a place 'mang ta _mhor_ Glaschow toon;
Whar she's noo _prush-ta-poot,_ an' pe _polish-ta-shoon_,
=An' pe shentleman's _flunkie_ in ta mornin'.

But at last she will turn very full o' ta _proud_,
An' she'll hold up her heads, an' she'll spoke very loud,
An' she'll look wi' disdains 'pon ta low tirty crowd,
=Tat will hing 'pout ta doors ilka mornin',
Noo, her nainsel is go to have one merry ball,
Whar she'll dance _Killum Callum,_ hoogh! ta best o' them all,
For ta ponniest dancer she'll pe in ta hall,
=Ay, either 'mang ta evenin' or mornin'.

Ither lads will have lassies, hersel will have _no_,
It pe far too expense wi' ta _lassie_ to go;
So, she'll shust dance hersel', her fine _preedings_ to show,
=Tat she learn 'mang ta place she was porn in.
Then ta lads will cry "Lauchie, where from did you'll cam',
Tat you'll not give ta lassie ta dance an' ta dram?"
But te're a' _trouster mosachs_, every one shust is sam'
=They wad spulzie all her sporran ere ta mornin'.

Noo, she's thochtin' she'll yet turn a praw _waiter's pell_,
When she wear ta fine pump an' pe dress very well;
An' py Sheorge! ere she'll stop, she'll pe maister hersel,
=In spite o' a' their taunts an' their scornin'.
Syne wha like ta greet Maister Fraser will pe,
When she'll hing up ta sign o' the "Golden Cross Key,"
An' will sit in her parlour her orders to gie
=To her waiters an' her boots in ta mornin'?

=======Alex Rodger.


DOUN by, near our smiddy, there lives a queer boddie,
=As couthie an' canty's the simmer day's lang;
An' auld funny story sets him in his glory,
=For af he knocks 't into some pithy bit sang.
Tho' aye ha'flins modest, his cracks are the oddest
=That ever were heard thro' the hale kintry roun',
Aye tauld aff sae freely, sae pauky an' sleely,
=He's far an' near kent, Rhyming Rob o' our toun.

Tho' deep read in pages o' auld langsyne sages,
=As meikle 's micht maist turn the pows o' us a'.
Sent soon to the shuttle, his schule-craft 's but little,
=Yet auld mither Nature him kindness did shaw;
Wi' first glint o' morning he's up, slumber scorning,
=Enraptur'd to hail ilk melodious soun'
Whar clear wimplin' burnie trots slow on its journey
=Ye're sure then to see Rhyming Rob o' our toun.

When e'en bit a younker, he'd cowr in a bunker
=Wi' 's beuk, daft gaffawers to mixna amang,
It pleas't him far better than gowk's sillie clatter,
=The deeds o' our gutchers in auld Scottish sang.
When e'ening's clud's fa'in', and cauld win's are blawin',
=His fireside 's the shelter o' ilk beggar loun,
Wi' kimmer or carle he'd share his last farle,
=A warm-hearted chiel's Rhyming Rab o' our toun.

He's free o' deceivry, the basest o' knavery,
=An's blythe aye the face o' a cronnie to see;
Wi' him the lang mouter, mysel' an' the souter,
=Hae aften forgather't an' had a bit spree;
There's naething we crack o' but he has the knack o',
=When we owre the stoup an' the cauppie sit doun,
Tho' chiel's we've had clever, the equal we never
=Had yet o' this bauld Rhymin' Rab o' our toun.

There 's nae gothic chaumer, whar deils their black glaumer
=Hae niffert wi' auld wives langsyne, late at e'en;
Nae cave, crag, nor cairnie, by time-blasted thornie,
=Owre Scotland's braid borders that he hasna seen.
But this Monday comin' we meet at the gloamin,
=In wee Andro Sibbal's, our sorrows to droun,
Sae gin, my auld hearty, ye're ane o' the party,
=Ye'll baith see an' hear Rhymin Rab o' our toun.

=======Robert Clark.


AIR - "_Miss Graham of Inchbraickie,_"

SWEET May! sweet May! revives again
=The buds and blossoms of the year;
And, clad anew, each hill and plain
=In emerald green appear.
How bright the view from yonder bank,
=Of primroses and daisies fair,
Where high o'er head the joyous lark
=Makes vocal all the air;
And round and round the spangl'd mead
=The bounding lambkins frisk and play,
And little rills, like living light,
=Gleam in the sunny ray.

But what were nature's fairest scenes,
=Though grac'd with all her gayest flowers,
Unless we lov'd, unless we felt,
=One fond, fond heart, were ours!
Then come, my own dear Mary, come,
=My all on earth I prize most dear;
And in yon blooming hawthorn shade,
=The glowing landscape near,
I'll tell to thee my hopes and fears,
=And all my heart to thee confess,
And if thou giv'st me love for love,
=I'll own no higher bliss.



_To an original Air, by Peter M'Leod, Esq._

MY young cousin Peggy cam doun frae Dunkeld,
=Wi' nae word o' lawlants ava, man,
But her blue speakin' een a' her kind meaning tald,
=An' her brow shone as white as the snaw, man;
She cam here to shear, and she stay'd here to spin,
She wrought wi' the fraumit, an' liv't wi' her kin,
She laid naething out, but she laid muckle in,
=An' she livit upon naething ava, man.

An wow but the lassie was pawky an' slee,
=For she smiled an' she smirkit till a', man,
Growing a' bodies' bodie, baith muckle an' wee,
=An' our folk wadna let her awa, man,
For when there was trouble or death in the house,
She tended the sick-bed as quiet as a mouse,
An' wrought three folks' wark aye sae canny an' douce,
=Ye wad thought she did naething ava, man.

She grew rich in beauty, she grew rich in gear,
=She learnt to speak lawlants an' a', man;
Her wit it was keen, and her head it was clear,
=My sang, she was match for us a', man;
Shs was trysted to suppers, and invitit to teas,
Gat gude wappin' presents, an' braw slappin' fees,
An' een my ain billies sae kittle to please,
=She tickled the hearth o' them a', man.

But the sweet Highland lassie, sae gentle and meek,
=Refused them for gude an' for a', man,
Aye gaun to the auld Highlan' kirk ilka week,
=While the minister aft gae a ca', man;
O his was the fervour, and her's was the grace,
=They whisper'd sweet Gaelic, he gazed in her face,
Like light, true love travels at nae laggard pace-
=She's the star o' his heart an' his ha', man.

=======James Ballantine.


_Written to an unpublished Gaelic Melody._

'Twas on a cauld an' rainy day,
=When coming owre the hills o' Lee,
I met a lassie young an' gay,
=Wi' rosy cheeks an' lily bree:
An' laith that sic a flow'r should bloom,
=Without the bield o' bush or tree;
I said, my lassie, will ye come
=An' dwell in Borristoun wi me?

O wha may think to stay the hand
=That turns the page o' destinie?
The broken ship has come to land,
=The stately bark has sunk at sea.
But fain to woo, and free to wed,
=I'll bless the doom I hae to dree
That ettled her, my Highland maid,
=To dwell in Borristoun wi' me!

=======Alex Laing.


AIR - "_Braes of Bogie._"

YE'll come to the wooin', dear laddie,
=Ye'll come to the wooin' at e'en;
An' gin ye can win my auld daddie,
=We'se sune mak a bridal, I ween.
'Tis true we hae baith a beginnin',
=Tho' nane o' his siller we see;
But the gudewill is aye worth the winnin'
=Whan there's mair than gude wishes to gie.

Your _luve_ you may hang i' the widdie-
=Your _sighs_ you may stick to the wa';
They'll do wi' the dochter, my laddie,
=But no wi' the daddie at a':
Ye'll crack awa doucely an' cannie,
=Of markets, of farmin', and flocks;
Ye'll ruse up the days o' your grannie,
=Auld fashions, an' auld fashion'd fo'ks.

An' whan ye man wish him gude-e'ennin',
=I winna be far out o' view,
I'll come frae my dairy or spinnin',
=An' gang out the loanin' wi' you:
An' gin the auld bodie's nae gloomin',
=Gin nane o' his tauntin' he flings,
Niest Friday ye'll ca' i' the gloamin',
=An overly speak about things.

But gin ye see like a storm brewin',
=Ye'll to your auld stories again;
An we'll tak anither week's wooin',
=An' try him mair cannily then.
I've heard my ain mither declarin',
=An' wha cou'd hae kend him sae weel?
My father wad lead wi' a bairn,
=But wadna be ca'd for the deil.

=======Alex Laing.


=O MEIKLE bliss is in a kiss,
==Whyles mair than in a score,
=But wae betak the stouin' smack
==I took ahint the door.

"O laddie, whisht! for sic a fright
=I ne'er was in afore,
Fu' brawly did my mither hear
=The kiss ahint the door.
The wa's are thick, ye needna rear,
=But gin they jeer and mock,
I'll swear it was a startit cork,
=Or wyte the rusty lock.
===O meikle, &c.

We stappit ben, while Maggie's face
=Was like a lowin' coal,
An', as for me, I could hae crept
=Into a mouse's hole:
The mother lookt, saff's how she look't
=Thea mithers are a bore,
An' gleg as ony cat to hear
=A kiss ahint the door.
===O meikle, &c.

The douce gudeman, tho' he was there,
=As weel micht been in Rome,
For by the fire he fuff'd his pipe,
=An' never fashed his thoom.
But tittrin' in a corner stood
=The gawky sisters four,
A winter's nicht for me they micht
=Hae stood ahint the door.
===O meikle, &c.

"How daur ye tak' sic freedoms here!"
=The bauld gudewife began;
Wi' that a foursome yell gat up,
=I to my heels an' ran;
A bosom whiskit by my lug,
=An' dishclouts half-a-score,
Catch me again, tho' fidgin' fain,
=At kissing 'hint the door.
===O meikle, &c.

=======T.C. Latto.


WHEN the butterfly swung on the rose's fair breast,
=And zephyre would steal from the sky,
When each bird had for pleasure forsaken the nest,
=Fair Rosa in anguish would sigh;
Yet ev'n she was lovely as e'er was the thought
=Of innocence smiling in sleep;
And happy-till love in her bosom had sought
=A birth-place, and left her to weep.

When the halls of old Sarnia echoed the song,
=And the dance and the music were there;
When pleasure and revelry reign'd in the throng,
=Fair Rosa would sigh in despair;
Yet once would her presence give bliss to the spot
=Where the hours did in revelry fly;
Yet soon were her name and her presence forgot,
=And alone she unheeded would sigh.

The roses of health and of beauty soon fled,
=Youth's noon was benighted with care;
Old Sarnia's sepulchre yawned for the dead,
=The priest with his missal stood there;
And peaceful and lone in the dark house she sleeps,
=Where love enters not to annoy,
And nought save the wind o'er the dismal spot weeps;
=But Rosa will waken in joy.


_Music by Peter M'Leod, Esq._

THERE'S a thrill of emotion, half painful half sweet,
When the object of untold affection we meet,
But the pleasure remains, though the pang is as brief
As the touch and recoil of the sensitive leaf.

There's a thrill of distress, between anger and dread,
When a frown o'er the fair face of beauty is spread;
But she smiles-and away the disturber is borne,
Like sunbeams dispelling the vapours of morn.

There's a thrill of endearment, all raptures above,
When the pure lip imprints the first fond kiss of love!
Which, like songs of our childhood, to memory clings;
The longest, the last, of terrestrial things.

=======E. Conally.


AIR - "_Highlang Harry._"

OF a' the games that e'er I saw,
=Man, callant, laddie, birkie, wean,
The bravest far aboon them a',
=Was aye the witching Channel Stane!

O for the Channel Stane!
=The fell gude game, the Channel Stane!
There's no a game amang them a'
=Can match auld Scotland's Channel Stane!

I've played at quoiting i' my day,
=And maybe I may do 't again,
But still unto mysel' I'd say,
=O this is no the Channel Stane!
===O for, &c.

I've been at bridals unca glad;
=In courting lassies wondrous fain;
But what was a' the fun I've had,
=Comparit wi' the Channel Stane!
===O for, &c.

Were I a sprite in yonder sky,
=Never to come back again,
I'd sweep the mune an' starlits by,
=And beat them at the Channel Stane.
===O for, &c.

We'd boom across the Milky Way,
=One tee should be the Northern Wain,
Another bright Orion's ray,
=A comet for a Channel Stane.
===O for, &c.

=======James Hagg.


AIR - "_Fy, let us a' to the Bridal._"

THE poets, what fools they're to deave us,
=How like ane's lassie's sae fine;
The first ane's an angel, and, save us!
=The neist ane you meet wi's divine!
An' then there's a lang-nebbit sonnet,
=Be't Katie, or Janet, or Jean;
An' the moon or some far awa planet's
=Compared to the blink a' her een.

The earth an' the sea they've ransackit
=For figures to set aff their charms,
An' no a wee flower but's attackit
=By poets, like bumbees in swarms.
What signifies now a' this clatter
=By chiels that the truth winna tell?
Wad it no be settlin' the matter
=To say-Lass, ye're just like yoursel?

An' then there's nae end to the evil,
=For they are no deaf to the din,
That, like me, ony puir luckless deevil
=Daur scarce look the gate they are in!
But e'en let them be wi' their scornin',
=There's a lassie whase name I could tell,
Her smile is as sweet as the mornin',
=But whisht! I am ravin' mysel'.

But he that o' ravin' 's convickit,
=When a bonnie sweet lass he thinks on,
May he ne'er get anither strait jacket
=Than that buckled on by Mess John!
An' he wha, though cautious an' canny,
=The charms o' the fair never saw,
Though wise as king SOLOMON'S grannie,
=I swear is the daftest of a'.

=======Rob Gifillan.


How oft by the lamp of the pale waning moon,
Would Kitty steal out from the eye of the town;
On the beach as she stood, when the wild waves would roll,
Her eye shed a torrent just fresh from the soul;
And, as o'er the ocean the billows would stray,
Her sighs follow after as moaning as they.

I saw, as the ship to the harbour drew near,
Hope redden her cheek, then it blanch'd with chill fear;
She wished to inquire of the whispering crew,
If they'd spoke with the Roebuck, or ought of her knew;
For long in conjecture her fate had been tost,
Nor knew we for certain the Roebuck was lost.

I pitied her feelings, and saw what she'd ask,
(For Innocence ever looks through a thin mask,)
I stept to Jack Oakum, his sad head he shook,
And cast on sweet Kitty a side-glancing look:
"The Roebuck has founder'd-the crew are no more-
Nor again shall Jack Bowling be welcom'd on shore!"

Sweet Kitty, suspecting, laid hold of my arm;
"O tell me," she cried, "for my soul's in alarm;
Is she lost?" I said nothing; while Jack gave a sigh,
Then down dropt the curtain that hung o'er her eye;
Fleeting life, for a moment, seem'd willing to stay,
Just flutter'd, and then fled for ever away.

So droops the pale lily, surcharg'd with the shower,
Sunk down as with sorrow, so dies the sweet flower;
No sunbeam returning, nor spring ever gay,
Can give back the soft breath once wafted away;
The eye-star, when sat, never rises again,
Nor pilots one vessel more over the main!

=======J. Blamise.



AIR - "_Kenmure's on an' awa', &c._"

WHARE cam' the guineas frae, Matthew, my dear?
I trow thou had nane till the sodgers cam here;
If they be the king's, or the Sergeant's, my son,
Gi'e them back, for thou never maun carry the gun.

Could thou e'er think to gang o'er the braid sea,
To lea'e the loan-head, the auld bigging, and me;
The smith and the smiddy, thy loom, and the lass
That stands at the gavle and laughs when ye pass?

Mind, Matthew! fur thou likes thy belly fu' weel,
There is naething abroad like our hearty aitmeal,
Nor guid sheep-head-kail, for nae outlandish woman
Has the gumption to ken that they need sic a scummin'.

In thy lug tho' that wild Highland sergeant may blaw,
And talk o' the ferlies he's seen far awa,
And the pleasures and ease o' a sodgering life,
Believe me, it's naething but labour and strife!

If thy fit should but slip in the midst o' the drilling,
The ranking and rawing, and marching and wheeling,
The sergeant would cry, "Shoot the stammering loon!" o else,
"Tie the scoonerel up to the halberds, ye scoonerels!"

And when our king George to the wars wad be prancing,
Wi' the crown on his head, and his sceptre a' glancing,
Wi' chariots, and horsemen, and cornels, a host o' them.
And Sergeant M'Tavish as proud as the best o' them;

My son, and the rest o' the puir single men would be
Trudging behint them wi' their legs twining wearily;
Laden like camels, and cringing like colly dogs,
Till the Frenchmen in swarms wad came bizzen about their lugs.

Then to meet Bonaparte rampaging and red
To the verra e'en-holes wi' the spilling o' bluid!
O, maybe the fiend in his talons wad claught thee!
And rive thee to spawls without speering whase augh thee!

Thou maunna wear claes o' red, Matthew M'Farlane!
Nor ringe wi' twa sticks on a sheep's skin, my darlin'!
Nor cadge wi' a knapsack frae Dan to Beersheba, nor
Dee like thy father at wearifu' Baltimore!

Bide still in Kilbarchan! and wha kens but thou
May be some day an elder, and keep a bit cow,
And ha'e for thy wife the braw through-ither lass
That stands at the gavle and laughs when ye pass.

But if thou maun sodger, and vex thy puir mither,
It's ae comfort to me, should I ne'er ha'e anither,
Whaever may shoot thee, their prey when they mak' o' thee
Will e'en get a gude linen sark on the back o' thee!

=======WM. CROSS.


CURLERS, gae hame to your spades, or your ploughs,
=To your beuks, to your planes, or your thummills;
Curlers, gae hame, or the ice ye'll fa' thro';
=Hame, swith! to your elshins, or wummills.

The curlin's owre, for the thow is come;
=On Mistilaw the snaw is meltin',
His hetherie haffets kythe black in the win',
=And the rain has begun a-peltin'.

A lang fareweel to greens and beef,
=To yill, to whisky, and bakes:
Fu' o' cracks is the ice, but we'll smuir our dule
=By gorblin' up parritch and cakes.

We'll nae mair think o' the slithery rink,
=Nor the merry soun "Tee high,"
Nor "Inwick here," nor "Break an egg there,"
=Nor "He's far owre stark, soop him bye."

We maunna think o' the slithery rink,
=Nor of hurras a volley;
The ice is dauchie, nae fun can we get,
=For ilka stane lies a collie;

Nor roar "Besoms up, he's a capital shot;"
="Now Jock, lie here, I say;"
"He's weel laid on, soop him up, soop him up."
="Now guard him, and won is the day."

But we trow when winter comes again,
=Wi' a' its frosts and snaws,
We'll on the ice ance mair forgether,
=Before life's gloamin' close.

-Curlers, gae hame to your spades or your ploughs,
=To your pens, to your spules, or your thummills;
Curlers, gae hame, or the ice ye'll fa' through-
=Tak' your ellwands, your elshine, or wummills.

When writing these verses, the author had in his eye Castlesemple Loch in Renfrewshire, a famous place for curling.  Mistilaw is a conspicuous hill in the neighbourhood.


TUNE - "_The Corby and Pyet._"

AN ill-deedy limmer is Halkerton's cow,
An' owre many marrows has Halkerton's cow;
But the auldest greybeard sin' he kent a pickstaff,
Ne'er heard o' a marrow to Halkerton's calf.
===Ne'er heard, &c.

Whan the kailyard is out o' its best cabbage stock,
An' the hairst-rig is short o' a thrave or a stouk,
An' the stack has been eased o' the canny drawn sheaf,
The mark o' the cloven foot tells a' the thief.
===The mark, &c.

He's doure i' the uptack the deil canna teach,
This wonderfu' calf has the rare gift o' speech;
Has scripture by heart, as the gowk has its lied,
An' fechts wi' his tongue for a kirk an' a creed.
===An' fechts, &c.

At alehouee an' smiddy he rairs an' he cracks,
'Bout doctrines, an' duties, an' statutes, and acts;
At blythemeat, an' dredgy, yulefeast, an' infare,
He's ready aff-hand wi' a grace or a prayer.
===He's ready, &c.

=======Alex Laing.


_Music by P. M'Leod, Esq._

WHEN Autumn has laid her sickle by,
And the stacks are theekit to haud them dry;
And the sapless leaves come down frae the trecs,
And dance about in the fitfu' breeze;
And the robin again site burd-alane,
And sings his sang on the auld peat stane,
When come is the hour of gloamin grey,
Oh! sweet is to me the minstrel's lay.

When Winter is driving his cloud on the gale,
And spairgin about his snaw and his hail,
And the door is steekit against the blast,
And the winnocks wi' wedges are firm and fast,
And the ribs are rypet, the cannel alight,
And the fire on the hearth is bleezin' bright,
And the bicker is reamin wi' pithy brown ale;
O dear is to me a sang or a tale!

Then I tove awa by the ingle-side,
And tell o' the blasts I was wont to bide,
When the nights were lang, and the sea ran high
And the moon hid her face in the depths of the sky,
And the mast was strained, and the canvas rent,
By some demon on message of mischief sent;
O I bliss my stars that at hame I can bide,
For dear, dear to me so my ain ingle-side!

=======Charles Gray.


AIR - "_Andro and his cutty gun._"

BLYTHE, blythe, and merry are we,
=Blythe are we, ane and a';
Aften hae we cantie been,
=But sic a nicht we never saw!

The gloamin' saw us a' sit down,
=And meikle mirth has been our fa';
Then let the sang and toast gae roun'
='Till chanticleer begins to craw!
Blythe, blythe, and merry are we,
=Pick and wale o' merry men;
What care we tho' the cock may craw,
=We're masters o' the tappit-hen!

The auld kirk bell has chappit twal,
=Wha cares tho' she had chappit twa!
We're licht o' heart and winna part,
=Tho' time and tide may rin awa!
Blythe, blythe, and merry are we,
=Hearts that care can never ding;
Then let time pass - we'll steal his glass,
=And pu' a feather frae his wing!

Now is the witchin' time a' nicht,
=When ghaists, they say, are to be seen;
And fays dance to the glow-worm's licht
=Wi' fairies in their gowns of green.
Blythe, blythe, and merry are we,
=Ghaists may tak their midnight stroll
Witches ride an brooms astride,
=While we sit by the witchin bowl!

Tut! never speir how wears the morn,
=The moon's still blinkin i' the sky,
And, gif like her we fill our horn,
=I dinna doubt we'll drink it dry!
Blythe, blythe, and merry are we,
=Blythe, out-owre the barley bree;
And let me tell, the moon hersel'
=Aft dips her toom horn i' the sae.

Then fill us up a social cup,
=And never mind the dapple dawn;
Just sit a while, the sun may smile
=And licht us a' across the lawn!
Blythe, blythe, and merry are we;
=See! the sun is keekin ben;
Gie Time his glass-for months may pass
=Ere we hae sic a nicht again!

=======Charles Gray.


AIR - "_Cameron's got his wife again._"

=The simmer days are come again,
=The rosy simmer's come again,
=The sun blinks blythe on hill and plain,
=The simmer days are come again.

A gowany mantle cleeds the green,
The blossom on the tree is seen,
And Willie saw a bat yestreen,
I'm sure the simmer's come again.
==The simmer days, &c.

The hazla bushes bend nae mair
Beneath the lades that crushed them sair,
And Tweed rows past her waters fair,
The cheerfu' simmer's come again.
==The simmer days, &c.

The glens are green that looked sae ill,
The blast that shored our lambs to kill,
The wind has gliff'd it owre the hill,
And gladsome simmer's come again.
==The simmer days, &c.

Ye little birdies, ane and a',
Aloud your tunefu' whistles blaw;
The wind's gane round, and fled's the snaw,
And lightsome simmer's come again.
==The simmer days, &c.

Now, simmer, ye maun use us weel,
Wi' shower and sunblink at its heel;
We're unco glad ye're come, atweel,
Ye're doubly welcome back again.
=Then welcome simmer back again, &c.

For Spring, ye see, ne'er minds us now,
To nurse the lambs, or tend the plough.
There's nane to tak our pairt but you,
And wow! we're glad ye're back again!
=Then welcome simmer back again,
=Rosy simmer back again,
=The wuds sall ring wi' mony a strain,
=To welcome simmer back again.

=======James Murray.


I KENT a wee toon, and a queer toon it was,
=Auld Mouldybrugh, that was its name;
A dreary dull village, wi' battered gray wa's,
=Where ony thing new never came;
Just twa or three houses, a' dismal and black,
=And twa or three shoppies sae sma';
A market, where whiles the folk gathered to crack,
=And drive a bit bargain or twa.

Besides an auld jail, wi' the court-house hard by,
=A cross, and a mossy stane well;
A kirk and a steeple, that dinlit the skye
=Wi' a clinkin' auld timmer-tongu'd bell.
While the brown battered tower on the hoary hill tap,
=That frowned owre the silly auld toon,
Tald o' its auld pith, for a bold baron chap
=Had biggtt it ne'er to come doun.

The hills lay in silence behind the auld toon,
=A bleak heathery moor lay before;
There we sported oursels in the days that are flown,
=And dearly we lov'd the grey moor.
Ah! thou wert an Eden-yea, truly a land
=Of milk and of honey to me;
Where we herded the kye, a happy young band,
=And harried the bike of the bee.

So quiet was the toon, and so douce were the folk,
=They lived in a kind o' a dream;
But at last they were roused wi' a desperate shock,
=By that vapourin' article steam.
For wha wad hae thocht it?  A railway was made
=Across the lang heather sae dreary;
The canny auld toonsfolks grew perfectly wud,
=An' a' thing was turned tapsalteery.

Auld Mouldybrugh fairly was rowed aff its feet,
=And naething gat leave to stand still;
They pulled doon the houses, and widened the street,
=And biggit a muckle brick mill.
And droves o' new corners, that naebody kent,
=Were workin', they kentna at what;
The bodies were just in a perfect ferment,
=And didna ken what to be at.

Sic smashin' and chappin' was a' round about,
=Sic clankin', sic rattlin', an' din;
Wi' rocks blaun like thunder frae quarries without,
=And smiddies an' reeshlin' within;
And wheelbarrows drivin' a' hours of the day,
=Wi' Eerishmen swearin' like Turks;
And horses were fechtin' wi' cartfu's o' clay,
=And plaister and stanes for the works.

Soon a' kinds o' traders cam flockin' in shoals,
=The railway brocht wonders to pass;
Colliers cam howkin' to sair us wi' coals,
=And gas-bodies cam to make gas;
And butchers, sae greasy, wi' sheep, beef, and pigs,
=And schoolmasters cam for the teachin';
And doctors wi' doses, and barbers wi' wigs,
=And kirks were ereckit for preachin'.

But dearer to me is the auld biggit toon,
=Wi' its cottages hoary and grey,
Where naething is altered, and naething dung doon,
=Except by the hand of decay.
And oh for the bodies sae simple and plain,
=Aye faithfu', and kindly, and true;
And oh for the days that we'll ne'er see again,
=When they dreamt na of onything new!

========B. H.


AIR - "_Nancy's to the greenwood gane._"

WOW me! for sic a pridefu' taid
=Our Tibbie's grown, the hizzie;
She cuts sic capers wi' her head,
='Twad ding a bodie dizzie.
D'ye think it's her braw clouts o' claes
=That mak's her look sae saucy?
Her bannet's but a bunch o' straes,
=Does she ken that? vain lassie!

A cauldrife silken tippet's neist
=Aboon her shoulders wavin';
Alang white ribbon, round her waist,
=Hangs like a crookit shavin'!
What tho' her slender sides shine braw
=Wi' dashin' duds o' muslin,
Her share o' mither wit's but sma',
=As yon new cleckit goslin'.

On Sunday, see her trip to kirk
=Wi' rhymin' Rab, auld Nan's son;
Neist day, she's aff wi' this gay spark,
=To some grand ball o' dancin'.
Sae Tibbie means to let her life
=Dance down the paths o' pleasure,
An' thinks, nae doubt, soon for his wife,
=The chield will gladly seize her.

But, thoughtless Tib, my bonnie doo,
=I'm fley'd ye'll be mistaken;
For promise never yet prov'd true
=Frae chiels wha gang a rakin'.
The days o' peace your breast now feels,
=Will change to months o' mournin';
Frae ane wha kens sic flighty chiels,
=Dear Tibbie, tak a warnin'!

=======Robert Carmichael.


AIR - "_Johnnie M'Gill._"

Low down in a valley fu' snugly and braw,
=There liv'd a blythe bodie o' saxty an' twa;
Nae wranglin' to deave him, nor sorrow to grieve him,
=He aye was contented an' happy wi' a'.

On his ain snug bit craftie, delighted fouu aft he
=Belabour'd frae mornin' to e'ening awa;
Sae cheery an' dainty, he sang like a lintie,
=Till gloamin, when darkness begun for to fa'.

For Bessie his wifie, to comfort his life aye,
=Wad cleed him fu' cozie, in time o' the snaw;
And tho' she was fifty, sae tidy and thrifty,
=She aye made her hallan to shine like a ha'.

Near han' was a weddin', the bodies war bidden,
=An' there they were buskit, fu' cleanly an' braw;
But fu' o' rejoicin', they thocht na o' risin',
=Until that the daylight began for to daw.

Their auld favourite doggie, a wee sleekit rogie,
=Had toddled ahint them, when they gaed awa
For aye he was timefu' to get a gude wamefu',
=Altho' that he hadna ae tusk in his jaw.

Sae strong was the whisky, the carlie grew frisky,
=For seldom he'd toom'd sic a drap in his maw;
But while he was cheerfu', his Bessie was fearfu'
=That any mishanter her Johnnie should fa'.

The drinkin' o' toddy, it made the auld bodie
=The white o' his e'en, like the parson, to shaw;
Wi' arms high uplifted, he roar'd an' he rifted,
="I'm up in the happy place-Bess, come awa!"

=======D S Buchan.


FAREWEEL to ilk hill whar the red heather grows,
To ilk bonnie green glen whar the mountain stream rows,
To the rock that re-echoes the torrent's wild din,
To the graves o' my sires, and the hearths o' my kin.

Fareweel to ilk strath an' the lav'rock's sweet sang,
For trifles grow dear when we've kenn'd them sae lang;
Round the wanderer's hearts bright hale they shed,
A dream o' the past, whan a' others hae fled.

The young hearts may kythe, tho' they're forced far away,
But its dool to the spirit whan haffets are grey;
The saplin transplanted may flourish a tree,
Whar the hardy auld aik wad but wither and dee.

They tell me I gang whar the tropic suns shine
Owre landscapes as lovely and fragrant as thine;
For the objects sae dear that the heart had entwined
Turn eerisome hame-thoughts and sicken the mind.

No, my spirit shall stray whar the red heather grows!
In the bonnie green glen whar the mountain stream rows,
'Neath the rock that re-echoes the torrent's wild din,
'Mang the graves o' my sires, round the hearths o' my kin.

=======Mr A. Foster.


DID ye hear of the Widow Malone,
Who lived in the town of Athlone
Oh! she melted the hearts
Of the swains in them parts,
So lovely the Widow Malone,
So lovely the Widow Malone.

Of lovers she had a full score,
===Or more;
And fortunes they all had galore
===In store;
From the minister down
To the clerk of the crown,
All were courting the Widow Malone,
All were courting the Widow Malone.

But so modest was Mrs Malone.
==='Twas known
No one ever could see her alone,
Let them ogle and sigh,
They could ne'er catch her eye,
So bashful the Widow Malone,
So bashful the Widow Malone.

'Till one Mister O'Brien from Clare,
===How quare!
It's little for blushing they care
===Down there,
Put his arm round her waist,
Gave ten kisses at laste,
"Oh!" says he, "you're my Molly Malone,
===My own;"
"Oh!" says he, "you're my Molly Malone."

And the Widow they all thought so shy,
===My eye!
Ne'er thought of a simper or sigh,
===For why?
But "Lucius," says she,
"Since you've made now so free,
You may marry your Mary Malone,
You may marry your Mary Malone."

There's a moral contained in my song,
===Not wrong;
And one comfort it's not very long,
===But strong;
If for widows you die,
Lain to _kiss, not to sigh;_
For they're all like sweet Mistress Malone,
Oh! they're all like sweet Mistress Malone.

=======C. Lun.


I SING ye o' a wife
=Wha carrie'd a' our water;
Cause o' muckle strife
=Was her clashin' clatter.
Ilka wee bit faut
=A' the warld kenned o't;
Gin ye gat ye're maut,
=Ye ne'er heard the end o't.
==Aye clashin', clashin',
===Nanny was nae canny;
==Wives plashin', washin',
===Matched nae Water Nanny.

Nanny had a man,
=A drunken market caddy;
Connaught cock-nosed Dan,
=A swearin', tearin' Paddy.
Sic a knuckled han',
=Sic an arm o' vigour;
Nan might scold an' ban,
=But brawly could he swigg her.
==Aye smashin', smashin',
===Danny was nae canny;
==Few could stand a thrashin
===Frae stieve-fisted Danny.

They lived up a stair
=Down in the Laigh Calton;
Siccan shines were there,
=Siccan noisy peltin';
Danny with his rung
=Steekin' ilka wizen;
Nanny wi' her tongue,
=Nineteen to the dizen.
==Aye clashin', clashin',
===Trouth it wae nae canny;
==Ony fashin', fashin',
===Danny an' his Nanny.

Bodice round about
=Couldna thole nor bide them;
Fairly flitted out,
=Nane were left beside them;
Their bink was a' their ain,
=Nane could meddle wi them,-
Neighbour lairds were fain
=A' the land to lea' them.
==Some gae hashin' smashin',
===Makin' siller canny,
==Wha gat rich by clashin'?
===Danny an' his Nanny.

They'd a bonnie lassie,
=Tonguey as her mither;
Yet as game and gaucie
=As her fightin' faither.
O! her waist was sma',
=O! her cheeks were rosy,
Wi' a shower o' snaw,
=Flaiket owre her bozy.
==Sun rays brightly flashin'
===Owre the waters bonny,
==Glanced nae like the lashin',
===Sparklin' een o' Anny.

Sight ye never saw,
=Like the Laird and Leddy,
Wi' their dochter braw,
=An' themsels sae tidy;
Wi' their armies crost,
=On their ain stair muntit;
Gin ye daured to hoast,
=How their pipies luntit.
==Wooers e'er sae dashin',
===Durst nae ca' on Anny,
==Dauntit wi' the clashin'
===O' her mither Nanny.

Beauty blooming fair
=Aye sets hearts a bleezing;
Lovers' wits are rare,
=Lovers' tongues are wheezing,
Barred out at the door,
=A slee loon scaled the skylight,
An' drappit on the floor,
=Afore the auld folks' eyesight.
==In a flaming passion,
===Maul'd by faither Danny,
==Aff' to lead the fashion,
===Scamper'd bonny Anny.

=======James Ballantine.


AIR - "_Mrs. Kinloch of Kinloch._"

THE last gleam o' sunset in ocean was sinkin',
=Owre mountain an' meadowland glintin' fareweel;
An' thousands o' stars in the heavens were blinkin',
=As bright as the een o' sweet Mary Macneil.
A' glowin' wi' gladness she lean'd on her lover,
=Her een tellin' secrets she thought to conceal;
And fondly they wander'd whar nane might discover
=The tryst o' young Ronald an' Mary Macneil.

O! Mary was modest, an' pure as the lily
=That dew-draps o' mornin' in fragrance reveal;
Nae fresh bloomin' flow'ret in hill or in valley
=Could rival the beauty of Mary Macneil.
She mov'd, and the graces play'd sportive around her,
=She smil'd, and the hearts o' the cauldest wad thrill;
She sang, an' the mavis cam' listenin' in wonder,
=To claim a sweet sister in Mary Macneil.

But ae bitter blast on its fair promise blawin',
=Frae spring a' its beauty an' blossoms will steal;
An'ae sudden blight on the gentle heart fa'in',
=Inflicts the deep wound naething earthly can heal.
The simmer saw Ronald on glory's path hiein'-
=The autumn, his corse on the red battle-fiel';
The winter, the maiden found heart-broken, dyin';
=An' spring spread the green turf owre Mary Macneil!

=======E. Conally.


WE sat beneath the trystin' tree,
=The bonnie dear auld trystin' tree,
Whar Harry tauld in early youth,
=His tender tale o' love to me;
An' walth o' wedded happiness
=Has been our blessed lot sinsyne,
Tho' foreign lands, lang twenty years,
=Has been my Harry's hame an' mine.
Wi' gratefu' glow at ilka heart,
=An'joyfu' tears in ilka e'e,
We sat again, fond lovers still,
=Beneath the bonnie trystin' tree.

We gaz'd upon the trystin' tree,
=Its branches spreading far an' wide,
An' thocht upon the bonnie bairns
=That blest our blythe bit ingle-side;
The strappin' youth wi' martial mien,
=The maiden mild wi' gowden hair,
They pictur'd what oursel's had been,
=Whan first we fondly trysted there;
Wi' gratefu' glow at ilka heart,
=An' joyfu' tears in ilka e'e,
We blest the hour that e'er we met
=Beneath the dear auld trystin' tree!

=======E. Connaly.


MOURNFULLY! oh, mournfully
=This midnight wind doth sigh,
Like some sweet plaintive melody
=Of ages long gone by:
It speaks a tale of other years-
=Of hopes that bloomed to die-
Of sunny smiles that set in tears,
=And loves that mouldering lie!

Mournfully! oh, mournfully
=This midnight wind doth moan;
It stirs some chord of memory
=In each dull heavy tone:
The voices of the much-loved dead
=Seem floating thereupon-
All, all my fond heart cherished
=Ere death had made it lone.

Mournfully! oh, mournfully
=This midnight wind doth swell,
With its quaint pensive minstrelsy,
=Hope's passionate farewell
To the dreamy joys of early years,
=Ere yet grief's canker fell
On the hearts bloom-ay! well may tears
=Start at that parting knell!

=======W. Motherwell.


THOU know'st it not, love, when light looks are around thee,
=When Music awakens its liveliest tone,
When Pleasure, in chains of enchantment, hath bound thee,
=Thou knowest not how truly this heart is thine own.
It is not while all are about thee in gladness,
=While shining in light from thy young spirit's shrine,
But in moments devoted to silence and sadness,
=That thou'lt e'er know the value of feelings like mine.

Should grief touch thy cheek, or misfortune o'ertake thee,
=How soon would thy mates of the Summer away!
They first of the whole fickle flock to forsake thee,
=Who flatter'd thee most when thy bosom was gay.
What though I seem cold while their incense is burning,
=In depths of my soul I have cherish'd a flame,
To cheer the loved one, should the night-time of mourning
=E'er send its far shadows to darken her name.

Then leave the vain crowd, - though my cottage is lonely,
=Gay halls, without hearts, are far lonelier still;
And say thou'lt be mine, Mary, always and only,
=And I'll be thy shelter, whate'er be thine ill.
As the fond mother clings to her fair little blossom,
=The closer, when blight hath appeared on its bloom,
So thou, love, the dearer shalt be to this bosom,
=The deeper thy sorrow, the darker thy doom.

=======Will. Kennedy.


I SING not of prince, nor of prelate, nor peer,
Who the titles and trappings of vanity wear;
I sing of no hero whose fame hae been spread
O'er the earth, for the quantum of BLOOD he hath shed;
But of one, who life's path with humility trod,
The friend of mankind, and at peace with his God;
Who indeed died to "Fame and to Fortune unknown,"
But who lives in my heart's core-my auld Uncle John.

His manners were simple, yet manly and firm-
His friendship was generous, and constant, and warm;
To Jew and to Gentile alike he was kind,
For the trammels of party ne'er narrow'd his mind:
His heart, like his haun, was aye open and free,
And tho' he at times had but little to gie,
Yet even that little with grace was bestow'n,
For it cam' frae the heart o' my auld Uncle John.

O weal do I mind, tho' I then was but young,
When he cam' on a visit, how blythely I sprung
To meet the auld man, who with visage so meek
Would a kiss of affection imprint on my cheek;
Then I'd place him his chair-take his staff, and his hat-
Then climb up on his knee, whar delighted I sat;
For never was monarch sae proud on his throne
As I on the KNEE o' my auld Uncle John.

When at school, to his snug room with pleasure I'd hie,
And often I've seen the fire flash from his eye-
And a flush o' delight his Pale cheek overspread,
When a passage from Shakspeare or Milton I read.
For me the best authors he'd kindly select,
He then to their beauties my eye would direct,
Or the faults to which sometimes great genius to prone-
So correct was the taste o' my auld Uncle John.

'Twas said, when a stripling, his feelings had been
Storm-blighted and rent by a false-hearted quean;
But this sour'd not his temper, for maidens would bloom
More brightly and fresh, when among them he'd come.
They would cluster around him, like flow'rs round the oak,
To weep at his love-tale, or laugh at his joke;
For his stories were told in a style and a tone
That aye put them in raptures wi' auld Uncle John.

To all he was pleasing-to auld, and to young-
To the rich, and the poor, to the weak, and the strong;
He laugh'd with the gay-moraliz'd with the grave-
The wise man he honour'd-the fool he forgave.
Religion with him was no transient qualm,
'Twas not hearing a sermon, or singing a psalm,
Or a holiday-robe for a season put on,
'Twas the everyday garb o' my auld Uncle John.

His country he lov'd, for her glory he sigh'd,
Her struggles of yore for her rights were his pride;
He lov'd her clear streams, and her green flow'ry fells-
Her mists and her mountains, her dens and her dells.
Yes, the land of his fathers-his birth-place he lov'd!
Her science, her wit, and her worth he approv'd;
But men of each kindred, and colour, and zone,
As brethren were held by my auld Uncle John.

His last sickness I tended; and when he was dead,
To the grave, in deep sorrow, I carried his head
The spot is not mark'd by inscription or bust-
No child nor lone widow weeps over his dust;
But oft when the star of eve brightly doth burn,
From the hustle and noise of this world I turn;
And forget, for a while, both its smile and its frown,
O'er the green turf which covers my auld Uncle John.

=======Wm. Finlay.


THOUGH Bacchus may boast of his care-killing bowl,
=And folly in thought-drowning revels delight,
Such worship, alas! has no charms for the soul
=When softer devotions the senses invite.
To the arrow of fate, or the canker of care,
=His potions oblivious a balm may bestow;
But to fancy that feeds on the charms of the fair
=The death of reflection's the birth of all woe!

What soul that's possessed of a dream so divine
=With riot would bid the sweet vision be gone?
For the tear that bedews sensibility's shrine
=Is a drop of more worth than all Bacchus's ton!
The tender excess which enamours the heart,
=To few is imparted-to millions denied;
The finer the feelings, the keener the smart,
=And fools jest at that for which sages have died.

Each change and excess has through life been my doom,
=And well can I speak of its joy and its strife;
The bottle affords us a glimpse through the gloom,
=But love's the true sunshine that gladdens our life!
Then come, rosy Venus, and spread o'er my sight
=The magic illusions which ravish the soul,
Awake in my heart the soft dream of delight,
=And drop from thy myrtle one leaf in my bowl!

Then deep will I drink of the nectar divine,
=Nor soon, jolly god, from thy banquet remove;
Each throb of my heart shall accord with the wine
=That's mellow'd by friendship and sweeten'd by love!
And now, my gay comrades, the myrtle and vine
=Shall united their blessings the choicest impart;
Let reason, not riot, the garland entwine-
=The result must be pleasure and peace to the heart.

=======J. Blamise.


THEY wad gi'e me a wife yestreen,
=Without my will-against my will;
They ettled wi' a winsome queen
=To trap a wary chiel like me.
Had I been a silly fool,
=Fast wad I been on the brier,
For free and pawky was the lass,
=And witnesses she had to swear.
Deep and cunning was their plan
=To beguile me-to beguile me;
Guid be praised! a single man
=I am yet, and aye will be.

It's no a joke to marry folk
=Wha want na wives-wha want na wives;
There's mair nor me that canna dree
=The softest tether a' their lives.
I heard them laugh when I ran aff
=An left them a'-the bride an' a':
But dell may care; I well can spare
=To gi'e them muir than ae guffaw.
Let them laugh and let them jeer
=I am easy-I am easy-
Never shall a woman wear
=Breeks o' mine, for a' their jaw.

I ance was owre the lugs in love,
=When daft and young-when daft and young,
But how I play'd the turtle-dove
=Shall ne'er be sung-shall ne'er be sung.
And though I'm safe, and draw my breath
=Wi' freedom now-wi' freedom now,
I fear I may some luckless day
=Still tine my precious liberty.
A' yestreen I dreamt some lass,
=Unco bonnie-sinfu' bonnie,
Stievely held me round the ha'se,
=And roughly kiss'd and towzled me.



THERE'S twa moons the nicht,
=Quoth the auld wife to hersel',
As she toddled hame fu' cantie,
=Wi' her stomach like a stell!

There's twa moons the nicht,
=An' watery do they glower,
As their wicks were burnin' darkly,
=An' the oil was rinnin' ower!

An' they're aye spark, sparkin',
=As my ain auld cruizie did,
When it blinket by the ingle,
=When the rain drapt on its lid.

O but I'm unco late the nicht,
=An' on the cauld hearthstane
Puir Tammie will be croonin',
=Wae an' weary a' his lane.

An' the wee bit spunk o' fire I left
=By this time's black and cauld,-
I'll ne'er stay out sae late again,
=For I'm growing frail an' auld.

I never like to see twa moons,
=They speak o' storm and rain,
An' aye, as sure's neist morning comes,
=My auld head's rack'd wi' pain!

=======Andrew Park.


AIR - "_The Cornclips._"

MY mither men't my auld breeks,
=An' wow I but they were duddy,
And sent me to get Mally shod
=At Robin Tamson's smiddy;
The smiddy stands beside the burn
=That wimples through the clachan,
I never yet gae by the door,
=But aye I fa' a-laughin'.

For Robin was a walthy carle,
=An' had ae bonnie dochter,
Yet ne'er wad let her tak' a man,
=Tho' mony lads had sought her;
But what think ye o' my exploit?
=The time our mare was shoeing,
I slippit up beside the lass,
=And briskly fell a-wooing.

An' aye she e'ed my auld breeks,
=The time that we sat crackin',
Quo' I, my lass, ne'er mind the _clouts_,
=I've new anes for the makin';
But gin ye'll just come hame wi' me,
=An' lea' the carle, your father,
Ye'se get my breaks to keep in trim,
=Mysel, an' a' thegither.

'Deed, lad, quo' she, your offer's fair,
=I really think I'll tak' it,
Sae, gang awa', get out the mare,
=We'll baith slip on the back o't;
For gin I wait my father's time,
=I'll wait till I be fifty;
But na! - I'll marry in my prime,
=An mak' a wife most thrifty.

Wow! Robin was an angry man,
=At tyning o' his dochter:
Thro' a' the kintra-side he ran,
=An' far an' near he sought her;
But when he cam' to our fire-end,
=An' fand us baith thegither,
=Quo' I, gudeman, I've ta'en your bairn,
=An' ye may tak' my mither.

Auld Robin girn'd an' sheuk his pow,
=Guid sooth! quo' he, you're merry,
But I'll just tak' ye at your word,
=An' end this hurry-burry;
So Robin an our auld wife
=Agreed to creep thegither;
Now, I hae Robin Tamson's pet,
=An' Robin has my mither.

=======Alex. Rodger.


ONCE mere, Eliza, let me look upon thy smiling face,
For there I with the "joy of grief" thy mother's features trace;
Her sparkling eye, her winning smile, and sweet bewitching air-
Her raven locks which clust'ring hung upon her bosom fair.

It is the same enchanting smile, and eye of joyous mirth,
Which beamed so bright with life and light in her who gave thee birth;
And strongly do they bring to mind life's gladsome happy day,
When first I felt within my heart love's pulse begin to play.

My years were few-my heart was pure; for vice and folly wore
A hideous and disgusting front, in those green days of yore:
Destructive dissipation then, with her deceitful train,
Had not, with their attractive glare, confus'd and turn'd my brain.

Ah! well can I recal to mind how quick my heart would beat,
To see her in the house of prayer, so meekly take her seat;
And when our voices mingled sweet in music's solemn strains,
My youthful blood tumultuously rush'd tingling through my veins.

It must have been of happiness a more than mortal dream,
It must have been of heavenly light a bright unbroken beam;
A draught of pure unmingl'd bliss; for to my wither'd heart
It doth, e'en now, a thrilling glow of ecstasy impart.

She now hath gone where sorrow's gloom the brow doth never shade-
Where on the cheek the rosy bloom of youth doth never fade;
And I've been left to struggle here, till now my locks are grey,
Yet still I love to think upon this "dream of life's young day."

=======Wm. Finlay.


==_O Charlie is my darling,_
===_My darling, my darling;_
==_O Charlie is my darling,_
===_The young Chevalier,_

WHEN first his standard caught the eye,
=His pibroch met the ear,
Our hearts were light, our hopes were high,
=For the young Chevalier.

Then plaided chiefs cam' frae afar,
=Wi' hearts without a fear;
They nobly drew the sword for war,
=An' the young Chevalier.

But they wha trust to fortune's smile,
=Hae meikle cause to fear;
She blinket blythe but to beguile
=The young Chevalier.

O dark Culloden - fatal field
=Fell source o' mony a tear;
There Albyn tint her sword and shield,
=And the young Chevalier.

Now Scotland's "flowera are wede away,"
=Her forest trees are sere;
Her royal oak is gane for aye,
=The young Chevalier!

=======Charles Gray.


AIR - _Laird o' Cockpen._

LOSH! sit down, Mrs. Clavers. and bide ye a wee,
I'll put on the kettle and mask a drap tea;
The gudeman's at the fair, 'twill be nicht or he's back,
Sae just sit ye down noo, and gi'es a' your crack.
Ah! woman, I'll tell ye what I heard yestreen,
Somebody was some way they shouldna hae been;
It's no that I'm jalousin' ocht that is ill,
But we aye ken our ain ken, and sae we'll ken still.

'Twas just i' the gloamin' as our kimmer Nell,
Wi' her stoups and her girr, was gaun down to the well,
She heard sic a rustle the bushes amang,
And syne sic a whistle sae clear, laigh, and lang;
She thocht 'twas the kelpie come up frae the loch,
But she fand her mistak', and was thankfu' enouch;
It's no that I'm jalousin' ocht that is ill,
But we aye ken our ain ken, and sae we'll ken still.

A shepherd-like chiel junket round by the dyke,
She kend wha it was by the yamph o' his tyke;
Syne through the laird's winnock he just gied a keek,
And the door gird a jee, syne did cannily steek:
There she saw some ane, dress'd in a braw satin gown,
Gang oxterin' awa' wi' her faither's herd loon;
It's no that I'm jalousin' ocht that is ill,
But we aye ken our ain ken, and sae we'll ken still.

His lang-nebbit words and his wonderfu' lare
Gar'd his honour the laird and the dominie stare;
But, losh! how they'll glow'r at the wisdom o' Jock,
When somebody lets the cat out o' the pock;
My certes! the leddy has surely gane gyte,
But if onything happens we'll ken wha to wyte;
It's no that we're jalousin' ocht that is ill,
But we aye ken our ain ken, and sae we'll ken still.

=======Alwyn A Ritchie.


==Oh! that fouk wad weel consider,
==What it is to tyne a name. - MACNIELL.

="HECK! lasses, ye're lichtsome - it's braw to be young."
Quo' the eldren gudewife, wi' her ailments sair dung;
"Ye're thrang at your crack about maybees an' men-
Ye're thinkin', nae doubt, about hames o' your ain;
An' why should ye no - I was ance young mysel',
An' sae weel's I've been married my neighbours can tell!

="In jokin' an' jamphin' there's nae ony crime,
Yet youth is a trying, a dangerous time;
Tho' now ye're as happy as happy can be,
Yet trouble may come i' the glint of an e'e.
When roses wad seem to be spread i' your path,
Ye may look for the briers to be lurking aneath,
But do weel and dree weel, there's nae meikle fear,
The lot's unco hard the leal heart canna bear.

="I've liv'd i' the world baith maiden an' wife,
An' mony's the change I ha'e seen i' my life-
Tho' some may na think it, it maks na to me,
There's few for the better or likely to be.
When I was as young as the youngest o' you,
The men ware mair faithfu', the women mair true;
There was na the folly an' ill-fashion'd ways,
Amang the young fouk that we see now-a-days.

="Yet, lasses, believe me, I'm happy wi' you,
Ye're thochtfu' an' prudent as mony, I trow;
Though like's an ill mark, it's a pleasure to me,
When I look to ithers, your conduct to see;
I canna say flichter'd an' foolish ye've been-
I canna say failings an' fau'ts ye hae nane-
The best has them baith, as ye've aften heard tell,
They rade unco sicker that never ance fell.
Sae mind your ain weakness, be wary an' wise;
Let age an' experience your conduct advise;
And tho' it is said, youth an' elid never 'gree,
There's nae fear o' flytin' atween you an' me.

="It may be there's some, tho', I'm sure, nane o' you,
Wad think wi' sic things I ha'e little to do-
Wad think that behaviour was naething to me,
Gin servants ware tentie - were worth meat an' fee,
Wae's me! is there ony to think sae inclin'd,
They ken na the duties I've daily to mind;
While I ha'e the fremmit my hallan within-
My bannock to brack, an' my errand to rin;
The present, the future, their gude an' their gain,
I'm bound to look owre as gin they ware my ain;
To see to their conduct a-field an' at hame,
To be, as it were, like a mither to them!

="Ye mind the auld proverb, auld fouk were na blate-
'Misfortune's mair owing to folly than fate'-
Sae, lasses, for ance, ye maun lend me your ear,
Frae me an' my counsel ye've naething to fear.
Look weel to the ford ere ye try to wade thro',
It's just atween tyning an' winning wi' you;
Ye've wooers about ye as mony's ye may-
Ye've hopes an' ye've wishes as a' women ha'e;
Ye're young, and the lads, it wad seem, think ye fair;
But sma's your experience, I rede ye-BEWARE.
A woman's gude name is a treasure-a mine,
But once be imprudent, an' ance let it tyne,
Her lost reputation she canna regain-
_Tak care_ o' yoursel's, an' _beware_ o' the men!"

=======Alex Laing.


MY auld lucky dad was a queer couthie carl,
=He lo'ed a droll story, and cog o' guid yill;
O' siller he gather'd a won'erfu' harl,
=By the brick eydent clack o' his merry gaun mill.

He wasna a chicken, tho' blythsome and vaunty,
=For thrice thretty winters had whiten'd his pow;
But the body was aye unco cheery and canty,
=And his big moggin knot set my heart in a low.

At the close o' the day, when his labour was ended,
=He dandled me kindly fou aft on his knee;
Thro' childhood and danger me fed and defended,
=And lang was a gude lucky daddy to me.

But death cam athort him, and sairly forfoughten,
=He hurkl'd down quietly-prepared for to dee;
And left a' the bawbees, he aye had a thocht on,
=The mill, and his lang neckit moggin to me.

A cottar hard by had a bonnie young dochter,
=Sae winsome, and winning, she made my heart fain;
Her heart and her hand she gae when I socht her,
=Syne blushing, consented - she soon was my ain.

Noo, Maggy and I are baith cozy and happy,
=Wi' bairnies around us, in innocent glee;
Sae I'll aye be joyfu', and tak' out my drappy,
=That I too an auld lucky daddy may die.

My neighbours they ca' me the little cot lairdie:
=Bless'd peace and contentment aye dwall round our hearth,
And a clear siller burn wimpling thro' our bit yairdie,
=Alang wi' the flowers, mak' a heaven upon earth.

While the loud roaring winds thud against our het hallan,
=My wifie sits spinning, and lilts a bit sang;
Nae trouble nor sorrow is kent in the dwallin'-
=Nae nicht in December to us seems ower lang.

And when hoary age crowns my pow, still contented,
=I'll lead the same life that my forbear had led,
That, when laid in the yird, I may lang be lamented
=By kind-hearted oys, as a gude lucky dad.

=======D. S. Buchan.


THE primrose loves the sunny brae,
To meet the kiss o' wanton May;
The mavis loves green leafy tree,
And there makes sweetest melodie;
The lammie loves its mither's teats,
An' joyfu' by her side it bleats;
For heather-bells the wild bee roves-
A' Nature's creatures hae their loves,
==An' surely I hae mine, Jessie.

Thou little kens, my bonnie lass!
Thou hast me brought to sic a pass;
Thy e'e sae saftly dark an' bright,
Like early simmer's day an' night;
It's mildness and its sunny blink
Hae charm'd me sae, I canna think
O' aught in earth, or sky, but thee,
An' life has but ae joy to me-
==That is in lovin' thee, Jessie.

Last Sunday, in your faither's _dais_,
I saw thy bloomin' May-morn face;
An' as I aften staw a look,
I maist forgot the holy book;
Nor reekt I what the preacher preach'd,
My thoughts, the while, were sae bewitch'd!
An' aye I thought when thy bright e'e
Wad turn wi' lovin' look to me,
==For a' my worship's there, Jessie.

But short time syne I held in scorn,
An' laugh'd at chiels whom love did burn;
I said it is a silly thought
That on a bonnie face could doat!
But now the laugh is turn'd on me-
The truth o' love is in thine e'e;
An' gin it's light to me wad kythe,
I something mair wad be than blythe,-
==For in its smile is heaven, Jessie.

=======John Auay.


_Set to Music by Mr. M'Leod._

=THE pang o' LOVE is ill to dree-
==Hech whow! the biding o't-
='Twas like to prove the death o' me,
==I strove sae lang at hiding o't.

When first I saw the wicked thing,
=I wistna it meant ill to me:
I straiked its bonny head and wing,
=And took the bratchet on my knee;
I kiss'd it ance, I kiss'd it twice,
=Sae kind was I in guiding o't,
When, whisk! - it shot me in a trice,
=And left me to the biding o't.

=An' hey me! how me!
==Hech whow! the biding o't!
=For ony ill I've had to dree
==Was naething to the biding o't.

The doctors pondered lang and sair,
=To rid me o' the stanging o't;
And skeely wives a year and mair,
=They warstled hard at banging o't.
But doctor's drugs did fient a haet-
=Ilk wifie quat the guiding o't-
They turned, and left me to my fate,
=Wi' naething for't but biding o't.

=An' hey me! how me!
==Hech whow! the biding o't!
=For ony ill I've had to dree
==Was naething to the biding o't.

When freends had a' done what they dought,
=Right sair bumbazed my state to see,
A bonny lass some comfort brought-
=Ill mind her till the day I dee;
I tauld her a' my waefu' case,
=And how I'd stri'en at hiding o't,
And, blessings on her bonny face!
=She saved me frae the biding o't.

=An' hey me! how me
==Hech whow! the biding o't!
=For a' the ills I've had to dree
==Were trifles to the biding o't.

========James Murray.


AULD Willie Nairn, the last Laird o' the Mint,
Had an auld farrant pow, an' auld farrant thoughts in't;
There ne'er was before sic a bodie in print,
As auld Willie Nairn, the last Laird o' the Mint:
=So list and ye'll find ye hae muckle to learn,
=An' ye'll still be but childer to auld Willie Nairn.

Auld Nanse, an auld maid, kept his house clean an' happy.
For the bodie was tidy, though fond o' a drappy;
An' aye when the Laird charged the siller-taed cappy,
That on great occasions made caaers aye nappy.
=While the bicker gaed round, Naony aye got a sharin'-
=There are few sic-like masters as auld Willie Nairn.

He'd twa muckle tabbies, ane black and ane white,
That purred by his side, at the fire, ilka night,
And gazed in the embers wi' sage-like delight,
While he ne'er took a meal, but they baith gat a bite:
=For baith beast an' bodie aye gat their full sairin-
=He could ne'er feed alane, couthy auld Willie Nairn.

He had mony auld queer things, frae queer places brought-
He had rusty auld swords, whilk Ferrara had wrought-
He had axes, wi' whilk Bruce an' Wallace had fought-
An' auld Roman bauchles, wi' auld baubees bought;
=For aye in the Cowgate, far auld nick-nacks stairin',
=Day after day, daunderad auld, sage Willie Nairn.

There are gross gadding gluttons, and pimping wine-bibbers,
That are fed for their scandal, and called pleasant fibbers;
But the only thanks Willie gae them for their lahours,
Were, "We cam nae here to speak ill o' our neighbours."
=O! truth wad be bolder, an' falsehood less darin',
=Gin ilk ane wad treat them like auld Willie Nairn.

His snaw-flaiket locks, an' his long pauthered que,
Commanded assent to ilk word frae his mou';
Though a leer in his e'e, an' a lurk in his brow,
Made ye ferlie, gin he thought his ain storing true;
=But he minded o' Charlie when he'd been a bairn,
=An' wha, but Bob Chambers, could thraw Willis Nairn.

Gin ye speered him anent ony auld hoary house,
He cocked his head heigh, an' he set his staff crouse,
Syne gazed through his specks, till his heart-springs brak' loose,
Then 'mid tears in saft whispers, wad scarce wauk a mouse;
=He told ye some tale o't, wad mak your heart yearn,
=To hear mair auld stories frae auld Willis Nairn.

E'en wee snarling dogs gae a kind yowffin bark,
As he daundered down closes, baith ourie and dark;
For he kend ilka door stane and auld warld mark,
An' even amid darkness his love lit a spark:
=For mony sad scene that wad melted could airn,
=Was relieved by the kind heart o' auld Willie Nairn.

The laddies tan to him to redd ilka quarrel,
An' he southered a' up wi' a snap or a farl;
While vice that had daured to stain virtue's pure laurel,
Shrunk cowed, frae the glance o' the stalwart auld carl:
=Wi' the weak he was wae, wi' the strong he was stern-
=For dear, dear was virtue to auld Willie Nairn.

To spend his last shilling auld Willie had vowed:-
But ae stormy night, in a course rauchan rowed,
At his door a wee wean skirled lusty an' loud,
An' the Laird left him heir to his lands an' his gowd.
=Some are fond o' a name, some are fond o' a cairn,
=But auld Will was fonder o' young Willie Nairn.

O! we'll ne'er see his like again, now he's awa!
There are hunders mair rich, there are thousands mair braw,
But he gae a' his gifts, an' they whiles werena sma',
Wi' a grace made them lightly on puir shouthers fa':
=An' he gae in the dark, when nae rude e'e was glarin'-
=There was deep hidden pathos in auld Willis Nairn.

=======James Ballantine.


I WILL think of thee, my love,
=When, on dewy pinions borne,
The lark is singing far above,
=Near the eyelids of the morn.
When the wild flowers, gemm'd with dew,
=Breathe their fragrance on the air,
And, again, in light renew
=Their forms, like thee, so fair.

I will think of thee, my love,
=At noon when all is still,
Save the warblers of the grove,
=Or the tinkling of the rill.
When the Zephyr's balmy breeze
=Sighs a pleasing melody;
Then, beneath the spreading trees,
=All my thoughts shall be of thee.

I will think of thee, my rove,
=At evening's closing hour,
When my willing footsteps rove
=Around yon ruin'd tower.
When the moonbeam, streaming bright,
=Silvers meadow-land and tree,
And the stars have paled their light-
=Then, my love, I'll think of thee.

I will think of thee, my love,
=At morning, noon, and night,
And every thing I see, my love,
=My fancy shall delight.
In flowers I'll view thy lovely face;
=Thy voice-the lark's sweet song
Shall whisper love; and thus I'll trace
=Thine image all day long.

=====Thomas L Gray.


O, MARY, when you think of me,
=Let pity hae its share, love;
Tho' others mock my misery,
=Do you in mercy spare, love.
==My heart, O Mary, own'd but thee,
==And sought for thine so fervently!
==The saddest tear e'er wet my e'e,
==Ye ken _wha_ brocht it there, love.

O, lookna wi' that witching look,
=That wiled my peace awa, love!
An' dinna let me hear you sigh,
=It tears my heart in twa, love!
==Resume the frown ye wont to wear!
==Nor shed the unavailing tear!
==The hour of doom is drawing near,
==An' welcome be its ca', love!

How could ye hide a thought sae kind,
=Beneath sae cauld a brow, love?
The broken beart it winna bind
=Wi' gowden bandage, now, love,
==No, Mary!  Mark yon reckless shower!
==It hung aloof in scorching hour,
==An' helps na now the feckless flower
==That sinks beneath its flow, love.

=======William Thom-



(_A biographical sketch of Duncan M'Rory._)


HIS honour the laird, in pursuit of an heiress,
Has squander'd his money in London an' Paris,
His creditors gloom, while the black-legs are laughin';
The gauger's the mightiest man i' the ciachan!

Our worthy incumbent is wrinkled an' auld,
An' whiles tak's a drappie to handout the cauld;
Syne wraps himself round in his auld tartan rachan;
The gauger's the mightiest man i' the clachan!

The dominic toils like a slave a' the week,
An', although he's a dungeon o' Latin and Greek,
He hasna three stivers to clink in his spleuchan:
The gauger's the mightiest man i' the clachan!

The doctor's a gentleman learned and braw,
But his outlay is great, an' his income is sma';
Disease is unkent i' the parish o' Strachan:
The gauger's the mightiest man i' the clachan!

Auld Johnnie M'Nab was a bien bonnet-laird,
Sax acres he had, wi' a house an' a yard;
But now he's a dyvor, wi' birlin' an' wauchin':
The gauger's the wealthiest man i' the clachan!

The weel-scented barber, wha mell'd wi' the gentry,
The walking gazette for the half o' the kintra-
_His_ jokes hae grown stale, for they ne'er excite laughin':
The gauger's the wittiest man i' the clachan!

The drouthy auld smith, wi' his jest an' his jeer,
Has shrunk into nought since the gauger cam' here;
The lang-gabbit tailor's as mute as a maukin:
The gauger's the stang o' the trump i' the clachan!

On Sunday the gauger's sae trig an' sae dashin',
The model, the pink, an' the mirror o' fashion;
He cleeks wi' the minister's daughter, I trow,
An' they smirk i' the laft in a green-cushion'd pew!

At meetings, whenever the Bailie is preses,
He tak's his opinion in difficult cases;
The grey-headed elders invariably greet him;
An' brewster-wives curtsey whenever they meet him!

The bedral - wha howffs up the best in the land,
Aye cracks to the gauger wi' bonnet in hand;
Tho' cold, wi' his asthma, is sair to be dreaded,
He _will_, in his presence, continue bare-headed.

At dredgiss an' weddings he's sure to be there,
An' either is in, or sits _next_ to the chair;
At roups an' househeatin's, presides at the toddy,
An' drives hame at night i' the factor's auld noddy.

At Yule, when the daft-days are fairly set in,
A ploy without him wadna be worth a pin;
He opens ilk ball wi' the toast o' the parish,
An' trips like Narcissus, sae gaudy and garish.

An' when he's defunct, and is laid in the yerd,
His banes maunna mix wi' the mere vulgar herd
In the common kirkyard, but be carried in style,
An' buried deep, deep, in the choir, or the aisle.


CRITIC - "Pray, who is this rare one?  The author's to blame-
Not to tell us long since of his lineage and name."

AUTHOR - "A truce with your strictures-don't ravel my story;
If I _must_ tell his name, it is Duncan M'Rory.

"An' as for his ancestors-Sir, by your leave,
There were GRANTS in the garden with Adam and Eve;
Now, Duncan held this an apocryphal bore,
But he traced up his fathers to Malcolm Canmore!

"An' they had been warriors, an' chieftains, an' lairds,
An' they had been reivers, an' robbers, an' cairds;
They had filled every grade from a chief to a vassal;
But MAC had been Borrisdale's _ain_ dunniwassel.

"The chief an' M'Rory had hunted together,
They had dined i' the Ha' house, an' lunched on the heather;
M'Rory had shaved him an' pouthered his wig-
My certie! nae wonder M'Rory was big!

"When Borrisdale sported his jests after dinner,
M'Rory guffaw'd like a laughing 'hyenar',
An' thunder'd applause, and was ready to 'swear
'Such peautiful shesten' she neffer tit hear.'

"When Borrisdale raised a young regiment called 'local,'
An' pibrochs an' fifes made the mountains seem vocal,
M'Rory was aye at his post i' the raw,
An' was captain, an' sergeant, an' corplar, an' a'.

"An' he drill'd the recruits wi' his braw yellow stick,
Wi' the flat o' his soord he ga'e mony a lick:
An' in dressin' the ranks he had never been chidden;
An' he dined wi' the cornal whene'er he was bidden.

"On his patron's estate he was principal actor,
Gamekeeper an' forester, bailie an' factor;
An' mony a poacher he pu'd by the lugs,
An' mony a hempie he set i' the jougs!

"But Borrisdale gaed to the land o' the leal,
An' his _country_ was bought by a nabob frae Keel;
So M'Rory's a gauger sae trig an' sae garish,
The mightiest man i' the clachan or parish!"

=======David Nedder.


THE sun clam up outowre the Neilston-braes,
=And frae his e'ebrows scuff'd the mornin' dew;
And warnin' dargsmen to put on their claes,
=Began to speil alang the lift sae blue.

He sheuk his sides, and sent a feckfu' yelid,
=And rais'd the simmer-lunts frae loch and linn,
The wunnocks skinkl't in the heartsome beild
=And ilka dew-drap shone a little sin.

The funnelt tod cam forth to beik himsel';
=The birds melodious chirpit in the shaw;
Sae braw a mornin' gae a bodeword fell,
=That some wanchance was no that far awa.

For deils and warlocks earthly things foreken,
=And wyse their fause end by a panky quirk-
Sae aft they harbinger the weird o' men,
=An' wind a bricht pirn for a cast richt mirk.

As rose the sun afore the sax-hour bell,
=Sae rose the Bailie, and stravaigit out;
Guess ye the Bailie, whose exploit I tell,
=In five-feet verses jinglin' time about.

Nae feck o' care was in the Bailie's head,
=He thocht nae mair nor common bodies think;
Sae witches draw us stownlins to our deid,
=And wyse us smilin' to the very brink.

He daunert on, ne'er thinkin' whar-awa;
=He walkit stately-bailies douna rin;-
Till, wi' a start he thocht he halflins saw
=Some fearsome bogle wavelin' in the sin.

He cried, but naething answered to his ca';
=His steps he airtit to the bogle's stance;
But aye the bogle lap a bit awa;
=He only wan whar it had kyth'd to dance.

A while he glowr'd; hech, what an eerie sicht!
=A bushy shaw grew thick wi' dalesome yew;
Sure sic a spat was made to scaur the licht,
=And hide unearthly deeds frae mortal view.

How lang he stood, dementit, glowrin' there;
=Whether he saw a wraith, or gruesome cow;
How near he swarf'd, how started up his hair,
=Are secrets still deep buried in his pow.

What words he spak, we'll aiblins ne'er find out;
=But some fell charm he surely mann'd to mutter;-
For at the very bit he turn'd about,
=And doddit hame to eat his rows and butter.

=======And. Crawfurd.


SOME foolish ladies will have men,
=Whatever these should be,
And fancy they are getting old,
=When scarcely twenty-three:
They never once reflect upon
=The trials of a wife;
For me, I'll pay my lovers off,
=And live a single life!

I cannot think of Mr. Figg:-
=I do not like the name;
And as for Mr. Tikeler,
=Why that is much the same!
And Mr. _Goold_ has grown so _poor_,
=He could not keep a wife,
And Mr. _Honey_ looks so _sour_-
=I'll live a single life!

I see some ladies who were once
=The gay belles of the town,
Though but a short year married,
=All changed in face and gown.
And Mr. _Gentle_ rudely _scolds_
=His little loving wife;
And Mr. _Lowe_ has grown so _cold_-
=I'll live a single life!

There's Mr. _Home_ is always _out_
=Till twelve o'clock at night;
And Mr. _Smart_ is _dull_ and _black_,
=Since married to Miss _White_.
And Mr. _Wright_ has all gone _wrong_,
=And beats his loving wife;- 
I would not have such men, I trow-
=I'll live a single life!

Miss _Evans_ looks so very _odd_,
=Since wed to Mr Strang;
Miss _little_ looks so bery _broad_
=Beside her Mr. _Lang_.
Miss _Hartley_ looks so _heartless_ now,
=Since mr. _Wishart's_ wife;
Miss _Rose_ has turn'd so _lily_-pale-
=I'll live a single life!

There's Mr. _Foot_ has begg'd me oft
=To give him my fair _hand;_
And Mr. _Crabbe_ has sought me too,
=And so has Mr. _Bland;_
And Mr. _Young_ and Mr. _auld
=Have asked me for their wife;
But I've denied them every one-
=I'll live a single life!

So, ladies who are single yet
=Take heed to what I say;
Nor cast your caps, and take the pet,
=As thoughtless maidens may:
Remember 'tis no common task
=To prove a prudent wife;
For me, no one my hand need ask-
=I'll live a single life!

=======Andrew Park.


AIR - "_Nancy Dawson._"

DON'T talk to me of London dames,
Nor rave about your foreign flames,
That never lived, - except in drames,
=Nor shone, except on paper;
I'll sing you 'bout a girl I knew,
Who lived in Ballywhacmacrew,
And, let me tell you, mighty few
=Could equal Mary Draper.

Her cheeks were red, her eyes were blue,
Her hair was brown, of deepest hue,
Her foot was small, and neat to view,
=Her waist was slight and taper;
Her voice was music to your ear,
A lovely brogue, so rich and clear;
Oh, the like I ne'er again shall hear
=As from sweet Mary Draper.

She'd ride a wall, she'd drive a team,
Or with a fly she'd whip a stream,
Or maybe sing you "Rousseau's Dream,"
=For nothing could escape her:
I've seen her too-upon my word-
At sixty yards bring down her bird;
Oh! she charmed all the Forty-third!
=Did lovely Mary Draper.

And at the spring assizes ball,
The junior bar would, one and all,
For all her fav'rite dances call,
=And Harry Deane would caper;
Lord Clare would then forget his lore,
King's Counsel, voting law a bore,
Were proud to figure on the floor,
=For love of Mary Draper.

The parson, priest, sub-sheriff too,
Were all her slaves, and so would you,
If you had only but one view
=Of such a face and shape, or
Her pretty ancles-but, ohone!
It's only west of old Athlone
Such girls are found-and now they're gone-
=So here's to Mary Draper.

=======C Lun.


AIR - "_Laird o' Cockpen._"

I've aye been fou' sin' the year cam' in,
I've aye been fou' sin' the year cam' in;
It's what wi' the brandy, so' what wi' the gin,
I've aye been fou' sin' the year cam' in!

Our Yule friends they met, and a gay stoup we drank,
The bicker gaed round, an' the pint-stoup did clank:
But that was a naething, as shortly ye'll fin'-
I've aye been fou' sin' the year cam' in!

Our auld timmer clock, wi' thorl an' string,
Had scarce shawn the hour whilk the new year did bring,
When friends and acquaintance cam' tirl at the pin-
An' I've aye been fou' sin' the year cam' in!

My auld auntie Tibbie cam ben for her cap,
Wi' scone in her hand, and cheese in her lap,
An' drank a gude New Year to kith an' to kin-
Sae I've aye been fou' sin the year cam' in!

My strong brither Sandy cam' in frae the south-
There's some ken his mettle, but none ken his drouth;
I brought out the bottle, losh! how he did grin!
I've aye been fou' sin' the year cam' in!

Wi' feasting at night, an' wi' drinking at morn,
Wi' here tak' a caulker, and there tak' a horn,
I've gatten baith doited, and donner't, and blin'-
For I've aye been fou' sin' the year cam' in!

I sent for the doctor, an' bode him sit down,
He felt at my hand, an' he straiket my crown;
He order'd a bottle-but it turned out gin;
Sae I've aye been fou' sin' the year cam' in!

The Sunday bell rang, an' I thought it as weel
To slip into the kirk, to steer clear o' the De'il;
But the chiel at the plate fand a great left behin'-
Sae I've aye been fou' sin' the year cam' in!

'Tis Candlemas time, an' the wee birds o' spring
Are chirming an' chirping as if they wad sing;
While here I sit bousing-'tis really a sin!-
I've aye been fou' sin the year cam' in!

The last breath o' winter in soughing awa',
An' sune down the valley the primrose will blaw;
A douce sober life I maun really begin,
For I've aye been fou' sin' the year cam' in!

=======Rob Gifillan


I HEARD the voice of merriment-
=Of man in his glad hour,-
And there the joyous bumper lent
=To mirth its maddening power:
And when I asked the reason why,
=They told me that the year
Was aged, and about to die-
=Its end was drawing near.-
How strange a thing! the human heart,
=To laugh at time's decay,
When every hour we see depart
=Is hurrying us away!
Away-from all the scenes that we
=Have loved so much, so well;
To where? ah! whither do we flee-
=Whose is the tongue to tell?

=======John Buchanan.


MY beautiful ship! I love thee,
=As if thou wert living thing;
Not the ocean bird above thee,
=That speeds on its snow-white wing,
To its hungry brood at even,
=Hath a fonder, gladder breast,
Than mine, when I see thee driven
=By the wind that knoweth no rest!

When the silvery spray flies o'er thee,
=Like a shower of crystal gems,
And the wave divides before thee
=Wherever thy bold bow stems-
Oh! my heart reboundeth then,
=With a beat, which hath been rare,
Since the gay glad moments-when
=The blood of my youth gushed there.

These are joys the Landsman's soul
=Can never wot of, I ween,
No more than the buried mole
=Can tell of the earth that's green.
Oh! bear me, my ship, away,
=Away on the Joyous wave!
I cannot abide earth's clay-
=For it minds me of the grave.

Thou art to mine eyes the fairest
=Of all the fair things that be;
Every joy of my life thou sharest,
=That bringest new life to me.
Shall my soul then cease to love thee,
=My beautiful sea-home?  Never!
As long as the sky's above me,
=Thou shalt be my Idol ever.

=======John Buchanan.


THIS flesh has been waated, this spirit been vext,
TILL I've wish'd that my deeing day were the next;
But trouble will flee, an' sorrow will flit,
Sae tent me, my lads-I'm living yet!

Ay, when days were dark, and the nights as grim,
When the heart was dowff, an' the e'e was dim,
At the tail o' the purse, at the end o' my wit,
It was time to quit - but I'm living yet!

Our pleasures are constantly gi'en to disease,
An' Hope, poor thing, aft gats dowie, and dies;
While dyester Care, wi' his darkest litt,
Keeps dipping awa' - but I'm living yet!

A wee drap drink, an' a canty chiel,
Can laugh at the warl', an' defy the deil;
Wi' a blink o' sense, an' a flaught o' wit,
O! that's the gear keeps me living yet!

=======Hew Ainslie.


I'LL sing a sang to thee, Kate Reid,
=It may touch a lonesome string;
I'll sing a sang to thee, Kate Reid,
=Be't the last that e'er I sing, Kate Reid,
==Be't the last that e'er I sing.

For I hae sung to thee, fair Kate,
=When the young spring, like thysel',
Kythed bonnilie on Roslin lea,
=In Gourton's flowery dell, Kate Reid, &c.

And simmer eves hae seen us, Kate,
=Thy genty hand in mine,
As, by our pleasant waterside,
=I mix'd my heart wi' thine, Kate Reid, &c.

And harvest moons hae lighted us,
=When in yon silent glen
Ye sat, my living idol, Kate-
Did I not worship then, Kate Reid? &c.

Hymns frae my heart hae sung o' thee;
=And trees by my auld hame,
That echoed to thy praises aft,
=Stand graven wi' thy name, Kate Reid, &c.

Thrice seven lang years hae past us, Kate,
=Since thae braw days gaed by;
Anither land's around me, Kate,
=I see anither sky, Kate Reid, &c.

My simmer hour is gane, Kate Reid,
=The day begins to dow;
The spark hath left this e'e, Kate Reid,
=The gloss hath left his brow, Kate Reid, &c.

Yet frech as when I kiss'd thee last,
=Still unto me ye seem;
Bright'ner o' mony a dreary day,
=Ye've sweeten'd mony a dream, Kate Reid, &c.

=======Huw Ainslie.


THE friendly greeting of our kind,
=Or gentler woman's smiling,
May sooth a weary wand'rer's mind,
=Some lonely hourse beguiling;-

May charm the restless spirit still,
=The pang of gried allaying;-
But, ah! the soul it cannot fill,
=Or keep the heart from straying.

O! how the fancy, when unbound,
=On wings of rapture swelling,
Will hurry to the holy ground
=Where loves and friends are dwelling.

My lonely and my widow'd wife
=How oft to thee I wander!
And live again those hours of life,
=When mutual love was tender.

And now with sickness lowly laid,
=All scenes to sadness turning,
Where will I find a breast like thine,
=To lay the brow that's burning?

And how'st with you my little ones?
=How have these cherubs thriven,
That made my hours of leisure light
=That made my home like heaven?

Does yet the rose array your cheeks,
=As when in grief I bless'd you?
Or are your cherry lips as sweet,
=As when with tears I kiss'd you?

Does yet your broken prattle tell-
=Can your young memories gather
A thought of him who loves you well-
=Your weary, wand'ring father.

O! I've had wants and wishes too,
=This world has choked and chill'd;
Yet bless me but again with you,
=And half my prayer's fulfill'd

=======Huw Ainslie.


WHY do I seek the gloaming hour,
=When others seek the day?
Why wander 'neath the moon's pale light,
=And not the sun's bright ray?
Why beats my heart as every blast
=Gaes whistling through the tress?
Be still in pity, gentle wind,
=My Willie's on the seas.

And should an angry mood come o'er
=Thy balmy summer breath,
Remember her who courts thy smiles,
=Nor seek my sailor's death:
Think on a mother's burning tears,
=The wee things on her knee;
Be still in pity, gentle wind,
=My Willie's on the sea.

For oh, I fear the azure caves,
=Thine angry mood explores;
And sorely dread the hidden rocks,
=And shelving iron shores.
Bespeak the love-sick moon's control,
=And bless with fav'ring breeze-
Blow soft and steady, gentle wind,
=My Willie's on the seas.

=======J. S.


Founded upon St. Pierre's tale of the Indian Cottage, and adapted to an Hindostan air.  Arranged and harmonised by R. A. Smith.

THO' exiled afar from the gay scenes of Delhi,
=Although my proud kindred no more shall I see,
I've found a sweet home in this thick-wooded valley,
=Beneath the cool shade of the green banyan tree;
'Tis here my loved Paria and I dwell together,
Though shunned by the world, truly blest in each other,
And thou, lovely boy! lisping "father" and "mother,"
=Art more than the world to my Paria and me.

How dark seemed my fate, when we first met each other,
=My own fatal pile ready waiting for me;
While incense I burned on the grave of my mother,
=And knew that myself the next victim would be:
'Twas then that my Paria, as one sent from heaven,
To whom a commission of mercy is given,
Shed peace through this bosom, with deep anguish riven,
=To new life, to love, and to joy waking me.

He wooed me with flowers, to express the affection
=Which sympathy woke in his bosom for me;
My poor bleeding heart clung to him for protection;
=I wept-while I vowed with my Paria to flee.
My mind, too, from darkness and ignorance freeing,
He taught to repose on that merciful Being,
The Author of Nature, all-wise and all-seeing,
=Whose arm still protecteth my Paria and me.

Now safely we dwell in this cot of our rearing,
=Contented, industrious, cheerful, and free;
To each other still more endeared and endearing,
=While Heaven sheds its smiles on my Paria and me.
Our garden supplies us with fruits and with flowers,
The sun marks our time, and our birds sing the hours,
And thou, darling boy! shooting forth thy young powers,
=Conspletest the bliss of my Paria and me.

=======Alex. Rodger.


=TOUCH once more a sober measure,
==And let punch and tears be shed,
=For a prince of good old fellows,
==That, alack a-day! is dead;
=For a prince of worthy fellows,
==And a pretty man also,
=That has left the Saltmarket
==In sorrow, grief, and wo,
Oh! we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo!

=His waistcoat, coat, and breeches,
==Were all cut off the same web,
=Of a beautiful snuff-colour,
==Or a modest genty drab;
=The blue stripe in his stocking
==Round his neat slim leg did go,
=And his ruffles of the cambric fine
==They were whiter than the snow.
Oh! we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo!

=His hair was curled in order,
==At the rising of the sun,
=In comely rows and buckles smart
==That about his ears did run;
=And before there was a toupee
==That some inches up did go,
=And behind there was a long queue
==That did o'er his shoulders flow.
Oh! we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo!

=And whenever we foregathered,
==He took off his wee three-cockit,
=And he proffered you his snuff-box,
==Which he drew from his side pocket;
=And on Burdett or Bonaparte,
==He would make a remark or so,
=And then along the plainstones
==Like a provost he would go.
Oh! we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo!

=In dirty days he picked well
==His footsteps with his rattan;
=Oh! you ne'er could see the least speck
==On the shoes of Captain Paton;
=And on entering the coffee-room
==About _two_, all men did know,
=They would see him with his Courier
==In the middle of the row.
Oh! we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo!

=Now and then upon a Sunday
==He invited me to dine,
=On a herring and a mutton chop
==Which his maid dressed very fine;
=There was also a little Malmsey,
==And a bottle of Bourdeaux,
=Which between me and the Captain
==Passed nimbly to and fro.
Oh! I ne'er shall take pot-luck with Captain Paton no mo!

=Or if a bowl was mentioned,
==The Captain he would ring,
=And bid Nelly to the West-port,
==And a stoup of water bring;
=Then would he mix the genuine stuff,
==As they made it long ago,
=With limes that on his property
==In Trinidad did grow.
Oh! we ne'er shall taste the like of Captam Paton's punch no mo!

=And then all the time he would discourse,
==So sensible and courteous;
=Perhaps talking of the last sermon
==He had heard from Dr. Porteous,
=Or some little bit of scandal
==About Mrs. So-and-so,
=Which he scarce could credit, having heard
==The _con_ but not the _pro_.
Oh! we ne'er shall hear the like of Captain Paton no mo!

=Or when the candles were brought forth,
==And the night was fairly setting in,
=He would tell some fine old stories
==About Minden-field or Dettingen-
=How he fought with a French major,
==And despatched him at a blow,
=While his blood ran out like water
==On the soft grass below.
Oh! we ne'er shall hear the like of Captain Paton no mo!

=But at last the Captain sickened,
==And grew worse from day to day,
=And all missed him in the coffee-room,
==From which now he stayed away;
=On Sabbaths, too, the Wee Kirk
==Made a melancholy show,
=All for wanting of the presence
==Of our venerable beau.
Oh! we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo!

=And in spite of all that Cleghorn
==And Corkindale could do,
=It was plain, from twenty symptoms,
==That death was in his view;
=So the Captain made his test'ment,
==And submitted to his foe,
=And we laid him by the Rams-horn-kirk-
=='Tis the way we all must go.
Oh! we ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo!

=Join all in chorus, jolly boys,
==And let punch and tears be shed,
=For this prince of good old fellows,
==That, alack a-day! is dead;
=For this prince of worthy fellows,
==And a pretty man also,
=That has left the Saltmarket
==In sorrow, grief, and wo!
For it ne'er shall see the like of Captain Paton no mo!

=======J. Huahart.


AFORE the Lammas' tide
=Had dun'd the birken-tree,
In a' our water-side
=Nae wife was blest like me;
A kind gudeman, and twa
=Sweet bairns were round me here;
But they're a' ta'en awa'
=Sin' the fa' o' the year.

Sair trouble cam' our gate,
=An' made me, when it cam,
A bird without a mate,
=A ewe without a lamb.
Our hay was yet to maw,
=And our corn was to shear,
When they a' dwined awa'
=In the fa' o' the year.

I downa look a-field,
=For aye I trow I see
The form that was a bield
=To my wee bairns and me;
But wind, and weet, and snaw,
=They never mair can fear,
Sin' they a' got the ca'
=In the fa' o' the year.

Aft on the hill at e'ens
=I see him 'mang the ferns,
The lover o' my teens,
=The faither o' my bairns;
For there his plaid I saw
=As gloamin' aye drew near-
But my a's now awa'
=Sin' the fa' o' the year.

Our bonny rigs theirsel'
=Reca' my waes to mind,
Our puir dumb beasties tell
=O' a' that I hae tyned;
For wha our wheat will saw,
=And wha our sheep will shear.
Sin' my a' gaed awa'
=In the fa' o' the year?

My hearth is growing cauld,
=And will be caulder still;
And sair, sair in the fauld
=Will be the winter's chill;
For peats were yet to ca'-
=Our sheep were yet to smear,
When my a' dwined awa'
=In the fa' o' the year.

I ettle whiles to spin,
=But wee, wee patterin' feet
Come rinnin' out and in,
=And then I just maun greet:
I ken it's fancy a',
=And faster rows the tear,
That my a' dwined awa'
=In the fa' o' the year.

Be kind, O Heav'n abune!
=To ane sae wae and lane,
And tak' her hamewards sune.
=In pity o' her mane;
Lang ere the March winds blaw.
=May she, far far frae here,
Meet them a' that's an' awa'
=Sin' the fa' o' the year.

=======THomas Lambert



SHE comes in a dream of the night,
=When the cumberless spirit is free,
A vision of beauty and light,
=And sweetly she smiles upon me.
And with the dear maid as of yore,
=Through scenes long remembered I stray;
But soon the illusion is o'er-
=It flits with the dawning of day.

Though low be the bed of her rest,
=And sound is her sleep in the tomb,
Her image enshrined in my breast,
=Still lives in its brightneee and bloom;
And link'd with the memories of old,
=That image to me is more dear
Than all that the eyes can behold-
=Than all that is sweet to the ear.

And like the soft voice of a song,
=That trembles and dies in the air,
While memory the strain will prolong,
=And fix it unchangeable there;
So deep in remembrance will lie,
=That form, ever lovely and young;
The lustre that lived in her eye,
=The music that flow'd from her tongue.

=======Alex Stuart.


AIR - _The young May moon is beaming, love._

YOU'VE come early to see us this year, John Frost,
Wi' your crispin' an' poutherin' gear, John Frost;
=For hedge tower an' tree, as far as I see,
Are as white as the bloom o' the pear, John Frost.

You've been very preceese wi' your wark, John Frost,
Altho' ye hae wrought in the dark, John Frost;
=For ilka fit-stap frae the door to the slap,
Is braw as a new linen sark, John Frost.

There are some things about ye I like, John Frost,
An' ithers that aft gar me fyke, John Frost;
=For the weans, wi' cauld taes, crying "shoon, stocking, claes,"
Keep us busy as bees in the byke, John Frost.

An' to tell you I winna be blate, John Frost,
Our gndeman stops out whiles rather late, John Frost,
=An' the blame's put on you, if he gets a thocht fou',
He's sae fleyed for the slippery lang gate, John Frost.

Ye hae fine goin's-on in the north, John Frost,
Wi' your houses o' ice, and so forth, John Frost;
=Tho' their kirn's on the fire, they may kirn till they tire,
But their butter-pray what is it worth, John Frost?

Now your breath wad be greatly improven, John Frost,
By a whilock in some baker's oven, John Frost;
=Wi' het scones for a lunch, and a horn o' rum punch
Or wi' gude whisky toddy a' stovin', John Frost.

=======William Miller.


I LO'ED ye when life's early dew
=A' fresh upon your bosom lay;
I preed your wee bit fragrant mou',
=An' vow'd to lo'e ye in decay.

Ye now sit in the auld aik chair;
=The rose hath faded frae your cheek;
Wi' siller tints time dyes your hair-
=Your voice now quivers whan ye speak.

Yet joy it is for me to hae
=Your wintry beauty in my arms;
The faithfu' heart kane nae decay-
=It's simmer there in a' its charms.

An' kindly is your smile to me,
=Altho' nae dimple round it plays;
Your voice is aye a melody,
=That breathes to me o' ither days.

Fill hie the cup, my gude auld May,
=In ruddy wine I'll pledge ye yet;
While mem'ry lingers o'er the day,
=The happy day when first we met.

An' this the pledge 'tween you an' me,
=Whan time comes hirplin wreath'd in snaw.
Like leaves frae aff an aged tree,
=May we to earth thegither fa'.

=======W. Brunely.


I WANDER'D by the burn side,
=Lang, lang syne;
When I was Willie's promis'd bride
=And Willie's heart was mine.
I wander'd by the burn side,
=And little did I think,
That e'er I should gang mournin'
=Sae sadly by its brink.

We wander'd by the burn side,
=Late, late at e'en,
And mony were the vows breath'd
=Its flowery banks atween:-
We wander'd late, we wander'd aft,
=It ne'er seem'd late nor lang,
Sae mony were the kind things
=That Willie said and sang.

But, waes me for the burn side,
=It's flowers sae sweet, sae fair;
And waes me for the lasting love,
=That Willie promis'd there:
The flowers forsook the burn side,
=But ah! they didna part
Sae cauldly frae its bonny banks,
=As truth frae Willie's heart.

Now I gang by the burn side,
=My sad, my leefu' lane,
And Willie on its flowery banks
=Maun never look again.
For ither scenes, and ither charms.
=Hae glamour'd Willie's een,
He thinks nae on the burn side,
=He thinks na on his Jean.

O! blessin's on the burn side!
=Its a' the bless I hae
To wander lonely by its brink,
=The lee lang night and day-
But waes me for its bonny flowers
=Their sweets I daurna see,
For Willie's love, and Willie's wrang,
=Wi' tears blind aye my e'e!

=======W. Ferguson.


AIR - "_Toddlin' hame._"

LET votaries o' Bacchus o' wine make their boast,
And drink till it mak's them as dead's a bed-post,
A drap o' maut broe I wad far rather pree,
And a rosy-faced landlord's the Bacchus for me.
Then I'll toddle butt, and I'll toddle ben,
And let them drink at wine wha nae better do ken.

Your wine it may do for the bodies far south,
But a Scotsman likes something that bites i' the mouth
And whisky's the thing that can do't to a Tee,
Then Scotsmen and whisky will ever agree;
For wi' toddlin' butt, an' wi' toddlin' ben,
Sae lang we've been nurst on't we hardly can spean.

It's now thretty years since I first took the drap,
To moisten my carcase, and keep it in sap,
An' tho what I've drunk might hae slockened the sun,
I fin' I'm as dry as when first I begun;
For wi' toddlin' butt, an' wi' toddlin' ben,
I'm nae sooner slockened than drouthy again.

Your douse folk aft ca' me a tipplin' auld sot,
A worm to a still,-a sand bed,-and what not;
They cry that my hand wad ne'er bide frae my mouth,
But, oddsake! they never consider my drouth;
Yet I'll toddle butt, an' I'll toddle ben,
An' laugh at their nonsensc-wha nae better ken.

Some hard grippin' mortals wha deem themsel's wise,
A glass o' good whisky affect to despise,
Poor scurvy-souled wretches-they're no very blate,
Besides, let me tell them, they're foes to the State;
For wi' toddlin' butt, an' wi' toddlin' ben,
Gin folk wadna drink, how could Government fen'?

Yet wae on the tax that mak's whisky sae dear,
An' wae on the gauger sae strict and severe:
Had I but my will o't, I'd soon let you see,
That whisky, like water, to a' should be free;
For I'd toddle butt, an' I'd toddle ben,
An' I'd mak' it to rin like the burn after rain.

What signifies New'rda? - mock at the best,
That tempts but poor bodies, and leaves them unblest,
For a ance-a-year fuddle I'd scarce gie a strae,
Unless that ilk year were as short as a day;
Then I'd toddle butt, an' I'd toddle ben,
Wi' the hearty het pint, an' the canty black hen.

I ne'er was inclined to lay by ony cash,
Weel kennin' it only wad breed me mair fash;
But aye when I had it, I let it gang free,
An' wad toss for a gill wi' my hindmost bawbee;
For wi' toddlin' butt, an' wi' toddlin' ben,
I ne'er kent the use o't, but only to spen'.

Had siller been made in the kist to lock by,
It ne'er wad been round, but as square as a die;
Whereas, by its shape, ilka body may see,
It aye was designed it should circulate free;
Then we'll toddle butt, an' we'll toddle ben,
An' aye whan we get it, we'll part wi't again.

I ance was persuaded to "put in the pin,"
But foul fa' the bit o't ava wad bide in,
For whisky's a thing so bewitchingly stout,
The first time I smelt it, tbe pin it lap out;
Then I toddled butt, an' I toddled ben,
And I vowed I wad ne'er be advised sae again.

O leeze me on whisky! it gies us new life,
It mak's us aye cadgy to cuddle the wife;
It kindles a spark in the breast o' the cauld,
And it mak's the rank coward courageously bauld;
Then we'll toddle butt, and' we'll toddle ben,
An' we'll coup aff our glasses, - "here's to you again

=======Alex. Rodger.


THE iron Despot of the North
=May on his vassals call,
But not for him will I go forth
=From my old castle hall.
Though sabres, swayed by Polish hands,
=Have battled for the foe,
There' one, at least, Oppression's bands
=Shall ne'er see brandished so!

I fought in Freedon's farewell field,
=I saved a useless life;
No weapon from that hour to wield,
=In a less noble strife.
When hostile strangers passed my gate,
=On Hope's red grave I swore,
That, like my ruined country's fate,
=This arm should rise no more.

I flung into the bloody moat,
=A flag no longer free,
Which centuries had seen afloat,
=In feudal majesty,
The sword a warrior-race bequeathed
=With honour to their son,
Hangs on the mouldering wall unsheathed,
=And rust consumes my gun.

The steed that, rushing to the ranks,
=Defied the stubborn rein,
Felt not on his impatient flanks,
=The horeseman's spur again.
And I, the last of all my line,
=Left an affianced bride,
Lest slaves should spring from blood of mine,
=To serve the Despot's pride.

=======Will. Kennedy.



AIR - _The Roast-beef of Old England._

THE Genius of Scotland lang wept owre our woes,
But now that we've gotten baith peace and repose,
We've kits fu' o' butter-we've cogs fu' o' brose:
=O' the kail-brose of auld Scotland,
=And O! for the Scottish kail-brose.

Nae mair shall our cheeks, ance sae lean and sae wan,
Hing shilpit and lank, like a bladder half-blawn;
Our lang runkled painches will now, like a can,
=Be stentit wi' brose o' auld Scotland,
=The stiff, stughie, Scottish kail-brose.

Our Sawnies and Maggies, as hard as the horn,
At e'en blythe will dance, yet work fell the neist morn;
They'll haud baith the French and their puddocks in scorn,
=While fed on the brose o' auld Scotland,
=Large luggies o' Scottish kail-brose.

There's our brave Forty-second. in Egypt wha fought,
Wi' Invincibles styled, whom they soon set at nought;
But the Frenchmen ne'er dreamt that sic work could be wrought,
=For they kent na the brose o' auld Scotland.
=The poust that's in Scottish kail brose.

Again, at the battle o' red Waterloo,
How they pricket and proget the French thro' and thro';
Some ran, and some rade-and some look'd rather blue,
=As they fled frae the sons o' auld Sootland,
=Frae the chiels that were fed upon brose.

To tell ilka feat wherein Scotsmen hae shone,
Is vain to attempt-they're so numerous grown;
For where will you meet wi' mair muscle and bone,
=Than is bred on the brose o' auld Scotland,
=The rib-prapping Scottish kail-brose?

Then join me, all ye to whom Scotland is dear,
And loud let us sing o' the chief o' her cheer;
Let cutties and cogs show our hearts are sincere,
=While we welcome the brose o' auld Scotland,
=The braw halesome Scottish kail-brose!

=======John Inglis.


IT'S dowie in the hin' o' hairst,
=At the wa'gang o' the swallow,
When the winds grow cauld, when the burns grow bauld,
=An' the wuds are hingin' yellow;
But, O! it's dowier far to see
=The wa'gang o' her the heart gangs wi'-
The deadset o' a shining e'e
=That darkens the weary warld on thee.

There was muckle luve atween us twa-
=O! twa could ne'er be fonder;
An' the thing below was never made
=That could hae gar'd us sunder.
But the way o' Heav'n's aboon a' ken-
=An' we maun bear what it likes to sen-
It's comfort though, to weary men,
=That the warst o' this warl's waes maun en'.

There's mony things that come an' gae-
=Just seen and just forgotten-
An' the flow'rs that busk a bonnie brae,
=Gin anither year lie rotten;
But the last look o' that lovely e'e,
=An' the dying grip she ga'e to me,
They're settled like eternity:-
=O, Mary! that I were with thee!

=====Hew Ainslie.


AIR - "_My Normandie._"

I'VE sought in lands ayont the sea
A hame-a couthie hame for thee,
An' honeysickle bursts around
The blythsome hame that I hae found;
Then dinna grudge your heather bell,
O fretna for your flowerless fell,
There's dale an' down mair fair to see,
Than ought in our bleak countrie!

Come o'er the waters, dinna fear,
The lav'rock lilts as lo'esome here,
An' mony a sweet, around, above,
Shall welcome o'er my Jessie, love,
My hame wi' halesome gear is fu',
My heart wi' lowing love for you;
O haste, my Jessie, come an' see
The hame - the heart that wants but thee!

But mind ye, lass, the fleetfu' hours,
They wait na-spare na fouk nor flowers,
An' sair are fouk and flowers to blame,
Wha wishfu' wastefu' wait for them.
O bide na lang in swither, then,
Since flowers and fouk may wither, then,
But come as lang's I hae to gi'e
A hame, a heart to welcome thee!

=======William Thom.


I WOULDNA - O I couldna look
=On that sweet face again,
I daurna trust my simple heart,
=Now it's ance mair my ain.

I wouldna thole what I ha'e thol'd,
=Sic dule I wouldna dree,
For a' that love could now unfold
=Frae woman's witchfu' e'e.

I've mourn'd until the waesome moon
=Has sunk ahint the hill,
An' seen ilk sparkling licht aboon
=Creep o'er me, mournin' still.

I've thocht my very mither's hame
=Was hameless-like to me;
Nor could I think this warld the same,
=That I was wont to see.

But years o' weary care ha'e past,
=Wi' blinks o' joy between;
An' yon heart-hoarded form at last
=Forsakes my doited een.

Sae cauld and dark's my bosom now,
=Sic hopes lie buried there;
That sepulchre whare love's saft lowe
=May never kindle mair.

I couldna trust this foolish heart
=When it's ance mair my ain;
I couldna - O! I daurna look
=On Mary's face again!

=======William Thom.


I KEN a fair wee flower that blooms
=Far down in yon deep dell,
I ken its hame, its bonny hame,
=But whare, I winna tell.
When rings the shepherd's e'ening horn,
=Oft finds that soothing hour,
Stars on the sky, dew on the earth,
=And me beside my flower.

It is not frae the tints o' day
=My gentle flower receives
It's fairest hue, nor does the sun
=Call forth its blushing leaves;
In secrecy it blooms, where Love
=Delights to strew his bower;
Where many an unseen spirit smiles
=Upon my happy flower.

Ah! weel ye guess, that fancy gives
=This living gem o' mine
A female form o' loveliness,
=A soul in't a' divine!
A glorious e'e that rows beneath
=A fringe o'midnight hue,
Twa yielding lips, wi' love's aain sweets
=Ay meltin' kindly through.

'Tis a' the wealth that I am worth,
='Tis a' my praise and pride;
And fast the hours flee over me
=When wooin' by its side.
Or lookin' on its bonny breast,
=So innocently fair,
To see the purity, and peace,
=And love, that's glowing there.

Wi' saftest words I woo my flower,
=But wi' a stronger arm
I shield each gentle opening bud,
=Frae every ruthless harm.
The wretch that would, wi' serpent wile,
=Betray my flower so fair,
Oh, may he live without a friend,
=And die without a prayer!

=======A MacLaggan.


ARISE, my faithfu' Phoebe Graeme!
=I grieve to see ye sit
Sae laigh upon your cutty stool
=In sic a dorty fit!
A reamin' cog's a wilin' rogue;
=But, by our vows sincere,
Ilk smilin' cup, whilk mirth filled up,
=Was drained wi' friends lang dear!

Ye needna turn your tearfu' e'e
=Sae aften on the clock:
I ken the short hand frae the lang
=As weel as wiser folk.
Let hoary time, wi' blethrin' chime
=Taunt on-nae wit has he
Nae spell-spun hour-nae wilin' power
=Can win my heart frae thee.

O, week ye ken, dear Phoebe Graeme!
=Sin' we, 'maist bairns, wed,
That, torn by poortith's iron teeth,
=My heart has afttimes bled.
Fortune, the jaud, for a' she had,
=Doled me but feckless blanks;
Yet, bless'd wi' thee, and love, and glee,
=I scorn her partial pranks.

As drumlie clouds o'er simmer skies
=Let anger's shadows flit!
There's days o' peace, and nights o' joy
=To pass between us yet!
For I do swear to thee, my fair,
=Till life's last pulse be o'er,
Till light depart, one faithful heart
=Shall love thee more and more.

Fair be thy fa! my Phoebe Graeme,-
=Enraptured now I see
The smile upon thy bonny face,
=That wont to welcome me.
Grant me the bliss o' ae fond kiss,
=And kind forgiving blink
O' thy true love, and I will prove
=Far wiser than ye think!

=======A MacLaggan.


==Wife come hame,
===My couthie wee dame;
==O but ye're far awa,
===Wifie come hame.

Come wi' the young bloom o' morn on thy brow,
=Come wi' the lown star o' luve in thine e'e;
Come wi' the red cherries ripe on thy mou,
=A'furred wi' balm like the dew on the lea.
Come wi' the gowd tassels fringing thy hair,
=Come wi' thy rose cheeks a' dimpled wi' glee;
Come wi' thy wee step an' wise-like air,
=O quickly come an' shed blessings on me.

==Wife come hame,
===My couthie wee dame;
==O my heart wearies sair,
===Wise, come hame.

Come wi' our luve pledge, our dear little dawtie,
=Clustering my neck round, and clambering my knee,
Come let me nestle and press the wee pettie,
=Gazing on ilka sweet feature o' thee.
O! but the house is a cauld hame without ye,
=Lonely and eerie'e the life that I dree;
O come awa, and I'll dance round about ye,
=Ye'se ne'er again win' frae my arms till I dee.

==Wife, come hame,
===My couthie we dame;
==O! but ye're far awa,
===Wife, come hame.

=======James Ballantine.


Come Corplar M'Donald, pe handy my lad,
Drive in a' ta stragglers to mornin' paraad!
_Greas orst!_ or you'll maype get "through ta wood laddie,"
Ta Kornal will not leave a soul in your pody!

Faall into ta ranks tere! ye scoundlars fall in!
I'll mak' ta one half of you shump from your skin!
You're raw as ta mutton, an' creen as ta cabbage,
I'll treel you to teath with your weight heavy paggege!

Advance to ta left twre! faall pack to ta right!
Tress straight into line, or I'll treel you till night!
You sodgers! - ye're shust a disgraish to your clan,
An' a ferry hard pargain to SHORGE, honest man!

You Tuncan M'Donald! you fery great sot,
You're trunk as ta cap, or ta stoup, or ta pot!
You'll ket a night's quarters into ta plack hole:-
Now, silence! an' answer to call of ta roll.

Sergeant (bawling at the top of his voice,)  "Donald M'Donald, _Mhor?_ - (no answer, the man being absent) - I see you're there, so you're right not to speak to nobody in the ranks.  Donald M'Donald, _Rhua?_"  "Here."  "AY, you're always here when nobody wants you.  Donald M'Donald, _Fad?_ - (no answer) - oh decent, modest lad, you're always here, though, like a good sodger, as you are, you seldom say nothing about it.  DOnald M'Donald, _Cluasan Mhor?_ - (no answer) - I hear you; but you might speak a little louder for all that.  Donald M'Donald, _Ordag?_"  "Here."  "If you're here this morning, it's no likely you'll be here to-morrow morning; I'll shust mark you down absent; so let that stand for that.  Donald M'Donald, _Casan Mhor?_"  "Here."  "Oh damorst! you said that yesterday, but wha saw't you? - you're always here, if we tak your own word for it.  Donald M'Donald, _Cam beul?_"  "Here" - (in a loud voice.)  "If you was not known for a tam liar, I would believe you; but you've a bad habit, my lad, of always crying here whether you're here or no; and till you give up your bad habit, I'll shust always mark you down absent for your impudence: it's all for your own good, so you need not cast down your brows, but shust be thankful that I don't stop your loaf too, and then you wad maybe have to thank your own souple tongue for a sair back and a toom belly.  Attention noo, lads, and let every man turn his eyes to the sergeant."

You Ronald M'Donald! your pelt is as plack
As ta pra' Sunday coat on ta minister's pack;
So you needna stand cruntin' tere shust like ta pig,
For ta Captain _shall_ send you on duty fatigue!

An' as for you, Evan M'Donald, you see
You'll go to ta guard-house tis moment wi' me;
Your firelock and pagnet 'll no do at a',
An' ta ram-rod's sae roosty it winna pe traw!

An' Struan M'Donald, stand straight on your shanks,
Whenever ta sergeant treels you in ta ranks;
An' hoult up your head, Sir, and shoulter your humph!
I _toot_ you've peen trinkin', you creat muckle sumph!

You, Lauchie M'Donald! you skellum, ochon!
Your hair's neither pouthered nor letten alone
An' the tin o' your pig-tail has lost the shapan,
An' your frill is as brown as the heather o' Pran!

Oigh! Dugald M'Donald! your small clothes are aye
As yellow as mustard in April or May;
I tare say you think it a creat cryin' sin
To puy ta pipe clay, an' to rub it hard in!

An' now you'll dismiss like goot bairns till to-morrow,
I'm sure you're my pride, an' my shoy, an' my sorrow;
It's a' for your goods if I gie you a thraw,-
For the sergeant ye ken has the sharge of ye a'.

======David Nedder.


O EIRLIC WELL! dear Eirlic Well,
=Again I gaze on thee;
What sacred mem'ries round thee cling,
=Fount of mine infancy.
Thy waters laugh and ripple now,
=As in the days of yore;
'Mid changes thou art still unchanged,
=And ceaseless in thy store.

Long years have passed since last I kissed
=Thy gurgliog wavelets sweet,
And oft I longed in climes afar
=To woo thy wild retreat.
Now that again I fondly hear
=The music of thy flow,
I sigh for those who with me shared
=Thy blessings long ago.

How joyously we bounded forth,
=When free from task and school,
To gather round thy mossy brink,
=And quaff thy waters cool.
Oh, youthful hearts and innocent,
=Pure as those sprays of thine,
Where are they now who clustered round
=Thy banks in auld lang syne?

Ah me! they all have gone, and here
=In pensive mood alone,
I meditate on bygone days
=Upon thy moss-clad stone.
Friends of my youth! the loved, the leal,
=I waft, where'er you dwell,
My warmest wishes; bless you all,
=Who drank from Eirlic Well.

Loved Eirlic Well! flow ever on:
=Those cooling draughts of thine
The tired and weary aye shall cheer-
=Flow on, O boon Divine!
Farewell, charmed spot! I ne'er again
=Thy cheerie face may see;
But thou art graven in my heart,
=Scene of mine infancy.

=======New York.


I LOVINGLY greet thee, sweet spray of white heather,
=With a heartfelt emotion I would not conceal!
Thou com'st from a friend true in shade and bright weather,
=Who in kindness is warm as in friendship she's leal.
==Good fortune and luck aye attend me together,
===Is the wish thou dost bring from the donor to me,
==Charmed emblem of both! bonniespray of white heather,
===From the land of my fathers far over the sea.

Fair token, thou'rt chaste as the heart of the sender,
=Bringing fond recollections of life's early day-
Of kin, friends, and country, and ties the most tender,
=Ere from kin, friends, and country I wandered away.
==Good fortune and luck aye attend me together,
===Is the wish thou dost bring from the donor to me,
==Charmed emblem of both! bonnie spray of white heather,
===From the land of my fathers far over the sea.

I never may see, pretty spray of white heather,
=Caledonia's loved glens and her mountains so grand;
I may ne'er again with the dear ones forgather,
=But my blessings on them and my dear native land!
==Good fortune and luck aye attend me together,
===Is the wish thou dost bnng from the donor to me,
==Charmed emblem of both! bonnie spray of white heather,
===From the land of my fathers far over the sea.

Thou gift of a friend! I will treasure thee dearly
=Till my jouney shall end in that long peaceful rest,
When some loving hand mine had oft pressed sincerely
=May with tenderness place thee, sweet spray, on my breast!
==Good fortune and luck aye attend me together,
===Is the wish thou dost bring from the donor to me,
==Charmed emblem of both! bonnie spray of white heather,
===From the land of my fathers far over the sea.



I FEEL I'm growing auld, guidwife-
=I feel I'm growing auld;
My steps are frail, my e'en are bleared,
=My pow is unco bauld.
I've seen the snaws o' fourscore years
=O'er hill an' meadow fa',
And, hinnie! were it no for you,
=I'd gladly slip awa'.

I feel I'm growing auld, guidwife-
=I feel I'm growing auld:
Frae youth to age I've keepit warm
=The love that ne'er turned cauld
I canna bear the dreary thocht
=That we maun sindered be;
There's naething binds my poor auld heart
=To earth, guidwife, but thee.

I feel I'm growing auld, guidwife-
=I feel I'm growing auld;
Life seems to me a wintry waste,
=The very sun feels cauld.
Of worldly frien's, ye've been to me,
=Amang them a' the best;
Now I'll lay down my weary head,
=Guidwife, and be at rest,



MY freen', altho' ye're doon the brae, cheer up, aye work awa',
An' dinna be doon-hearted tho' misfortunes on ye fa';
It's no the clink nor cleedin', it's the heart that makes the man-
Just lilt a cantie sang, my freen', an' do the best ye can.

The puir man's road lies up a brae, we a' ken faur owre weel-
A road that's fearfu' slid'ry, lad, an' unco hard to spiel;
Yet tho' ye aft gae rum'lin' back to whaur ye first began,
Loup up and try again, my freen' - aye do the best ye can.

It's no by sittin' frettin', lad, ye'll get on in this life,
Ye maun struggle nobly onward thro' the thickest o' the strife;
An' tho' at times the fecht may seem ower hard for mortal man,
Yet dinna think to yield, my freen', but do the best ye can.

Aye face misfortunes manfully, to win yet aye be prone-
But ne'er do what ye canna ask the Maister's blessin' on-
An' when yer tether's length, my freen', on this earth ye hae ran,
Ye'll gang to yon fair hame abune-sae do the best ye can.



"_Nemo me impune lacessit._"

SPARE the kilt an' spare the feather,
Plaid an' sporran, gay cockad',
Ribbons, hose, an' a' thegether,
Emblems o' the hills o' heather-
Dear to Hielan' maid an' lad.
Dear these folds to Scottish story,
Aft the noddin' plume we knew,
In the chase or in the foray,
Bonnie, brave, an' bricht wi' glory,
Buskin' chiels sae leal an' true.

Spare the kilt an' spare the feather,
Min' the lads o' Quatre Bras:
Far frae a' their hills o' heather,
Bravely, brawly, stood thegether
"Ninety-third" an' "Forty-twa."
By Sir Ralph an' by Sir Colin;
By the clansmen that they led,
By the battle's thunder rollin',
By the tide o' carnage swollen,
Ilka wound frae which they bled;-

Spare the kilt an' spare the feather,
Wavin', flutt'rin', noddin' free,
As they bravely tread the heather,
At the pibroch's ca' forgather,
Speel the crag, or plough the lea;
As they breast the blast sae bitter,
Herdin' mountain lamb or steer,
As they nod, an' glint, an' glitter
Whaur the bards bend and flitter,
As they stalk the wary deer;

Spare the kilt an' spare the feather,
For the lads sae stout an' true,
That in tartan claes thegether,
Bonnets plumed an' sprigg'd wi' heather,
Focht an' bled for me an' you;
That in solid phalanx blended,
Sternly roun' their standard stood;
That in "thin red line" extended,
Britain's honour weel defended
At the cost o' Hielan' bluid.

Here's a pledge to kilt an' feather,
"Nane shall touch them wi' impune,"
Twine the thistle wi' the heather,
Roun' ilk' gallant badge forgather
Rally, rally, roun' an' roun'.
Frae Edina's ramparts hoary,
Stirling's bastions' rocky broos,
Hielen' ben, an' glen, an' corrie,
Gather a' frae Mull to Moray,
Frae the Lothians to the Lews.

=======W. V. JACKSON.


THERE'S something birrin' through my head,
=An' 'bout my heart's a hurly-burly;
At times I think I'm halflins dead,
=An' whiles I laugh, an' whiles I'm surly.
I watna how to gie't a name,
=That's pat me i' this fev'rish flurry;
But gin't be love, she's a' the blame,
=The bonnie lass o' Broughty-Ferry.

She's a' that's winsome, sweet, an' young,
=What need I say! words canna prize her-
But yet I canna haud my tongue,
=An' when I speak it's aye to praise her.
I think upon her a' the day,
=An' a' the nicht I dream about her;
My pauchty kin may taunt's they may,
=I canna, winna, live without her.

I hae a mailin o' my ain,
='Twas left me by my luckie daddy,
Wi' cozy hourse baith but an' ben,
=Sae I'm a laird, and she's be lady,
My father cries she'll spend my gear,
=My mither ca's her senseless fairy;
But let them banter, snag, an' sneer,
=She's mine, the lass o' Broughty-Ferry.



SOME like to rise at keek o' day,
=And hear the birdies singin',
When daisies open to the sun,
=An' grass wi' dew is hingin';
But, oh! gie me the gloamin',
=The quiet simmer gloamin':-
There's no an hour o' the twenty-four
=Sae dear's the hour o' gloamin'.

And some wad like the dreamy time
=When simmer suns are flashin',
To doze aneath a tree, and list
=The burnies playfu' plashin';
But best o' a's the gloamin',
=The saft and shady gloamin',
When hill-taps fade, and winds are laid
=Wi' the wand o' the fairy gloamin'.

O! mony's the time in days langsyne
=I've stown awa' at gloamin',
By lanesome field, and wood, and lake,
=In lang excursions roamin'-
In the sweet, sweet hour o' gloamin',
=In the pensive hour o' gloamin';
Langsyne I used to stray and muse
=In the soothin', simmer gloamin'.

And though my youth has tint its joys,
=Like the dews at early dawnin',
And manhood's years be het and dry
=Wi' toilin' sair an' plannin';
O grant to me a gloamin',
=Life's meditative gloamin'!
When my day is deen, ere I close my e'en,
=Gie me an hour o' gloamin!



I'LL sing a sang to thee, Tom,
=Though far frae me and hame;
For leal thochts come o' thee, Tom,
=At the whisper o' thy name.
The waves may beat, the winds may blaw,
The simmer bloom, and winter snaw,
But morn nor nicht sall break nor fa'
=That ye're nae dear to me, Tom.

'Tis years, O langsome years, Tom,
=Since last I saw your face;
And sometimes I hae fears, Tom,
=Anither fills my place.
But hap what will, or come what may,
I'll ne'er forget or blame the day
I promised to be thine for aye,
=For thine I hope to be, Tom.

Ye'll read this simple sang, Tom,
=In yer hame across the sea;
And ye'll ken I'm thinkin' lang, Tom,
=To look again an thee;
To hear yer kindly voice ance mair,
To hear ye praise my face and hair,
To hear ye say that nane shall share
=Yer heart and hame but me, Tom.



MY neighbour the miller has muscle and girth,
=His foot tak's the grun' like the dunt o' a hammer;
His laugh soons like music, leal soul-heazin' mirth,
=His word comes fair-furth-the-gait, nae halt or stammer
A chip o' langsyne, he prefers grog to wine,
=An oxter pouch lined weel wi' honest-won siller;
Frae Fittie tae Fife, I wad lay ye my life-
=There's nae truer man than my neighbour the miller.

When the mill-wheel is silent, the water at rest,
=My frien' fills his pipe, treasured joy, to content him;
Sits 'neath his ain fig-tree, like saint pure and blest,
=At peace wi' the warl', pleased with what Fate hath sent him.
When at market or fair, ye'll fin' nane trusted mair;
=In the kirk he's a power as a ne'er-failing pillar;
To anger full slow - kind to age, want, or woe-
=There's a big human heart in my neighbour the miller.

He's fond o' a crony to join in a rubber,
=Can share a safe tumbler, and lo'es a bit sang;
Tho' still at his table-heid wiselike and sober-
=Yet under his shadow nicht never grows lang.
Roun' his blithesome fireside-tender father and guide;
=His wife, happy helpmate, he's aye bringin' till her;
While seedtime and rain gladden ploo-land and plain,
=He hopes and looks heavenward, my neighbour the miller.



(_An Aberdeenshire Idyl._)

I WINDER gin the hairst Meen shines wi' sic a glarin' licht
=On ither toons and pairishes as she glowr'd doon here yestreen?
I'm sure a' owre the steadin' 'twas far mair day than nicht
=I kenna hoo about this time they aye sen' sic a Meen!
Some o' oor chaps were greezin' beets, twa-three were readin' books,
And a' my airt I couldna get Jinse furth amang the stooks.

I like the simmer weel eneuch, an' I like the winter tee,
=The ane brings leefy hidin' holes - the tither's dark as pitch,
Sae that a tryste ye safe may haud, and nae gleg body see,
=But losh me, whan the hairst begins ye scarce can heeze or hitch,
The Meen lichts up a' corners, steals roon the dykes and neuks,
And sit fat side ye like ye're seen, if oot amang the stooks.

On Feersday last, the maister raise, I saw, 'tween four and five,
=Sae thinkin' he wid weir-awa' gey early till his bed,
I tell't Jinse that we had a chance, if she wid but contrive
=To slip oot when her wark was deen ahint the auld neep shed
We'd jink the lave and baffle them, for a' their wiles and crooks
To catch us, an' we'd hae an hour oorsel's amang the stooks.

Jinse cam: O, she wiz boonie! if ye'd only seen her hair,
=A' glancin' dark an' wavy, wi' a ribbony roon her neck;
I think that I could look at her until my e'en grew sair,
=Espeeshly whan she's on yon goon-a white-like tartan check:
They brag aboot braw ladies in their dresses tuck'd wi' hooks,
They're better in fine drawing-rooms than out amang the stooks.

Weel, as I said, Jinse cam', and we sat kindly doon thegether,
=And happy were we there our leens, tho' I didna like the Meen;
We spak about the cliack nicht, then neist about the weather,
=An' syne a sid stack in my teeth, and I wad steal a preen,
Sae I wis slippin' roon' my airm, when baith oor wits forsook's,
For wha appears but auld Sauchtoon, gaun daunderin' 'mang his stooks!

"We'll leid the morn, we'll leid the morn," he mutters to himsel',
="For tho' the corn's a thochty weet, 'twill mak' the meal the free-er."
Peer Jinse, her wee bit heart I fand wiz beatin' like a bell,
=She kent it wid be flittin' term if he should chance to see 'er.
When Just in time the cunnin' Meen behint a dark clood jooks,
And in a jiffy we were aff, safe oot amang the stooks!

I said afore I liket weel the winter and the simmer,
=And I winna say a wird against the owtumn or the spring,
But I'm dootfu' o' a glarin' Meen, she min's me o' some limmer
=That seeks to spy oot ferlies, and syne clype ilka thing;
Yet hairstin'-whan the crap is gweed-wirk ye wi' scythes or heuks,
Has mony joys, and nane mair dear, than courtin' 'mang the stooks.



A GARDEN was the blest retreat
=Where love at first began,
When Eve was queen of womanhood,
=And Adam, king of man.
And ever since, the garden's been
=The sacred bower of love,
Where youth and innocence convene
=In friendship's paths to rove.
===Then, brethren round, the goblet crown
====With draughts of rosy wine,
===And drink the memory of our sire,
====Who reared the purple vine.

To Noah, that aquatic lord,
=A bumper next be given,
The second gardener on record,
=The favour'd child of heaven.
'Twas he at first distilled those sweets
=That cheer our social hours,
And strew'd the darker paths of life
=With artificial flowers.
===Then, brethren ronnd, the goblet crown
====With draughts of rosy wine,
===And drink the patriarch's memory
====Who first distilled the vine.

And lastly, toast the Hebrew sage
=Who sat on Judah's throne,
Surrounded by his harem fair,
=So sweet to look upon.
Oh! when he sought the garden's walk,
=Its flowery pomp to see,
The virgin lily on its stalk
=Was richer far than he.
===Then, sons of flowers, the goblet crown,
====And toast our art divine;
==='Tis meet that we should quaff the grape
====Who rear the purple vine.

The world, since creation's dawn,
=Has owned the gard'ner's skill;
We paint with flowers the sunny lawn,
=And shade with groves the hill.
Physicians borrow from our stores
=The glory of their art;
We feed the hungry, cleed the bare,
=And balm to life impart.
===And woman-nature's darling child-
====Looks never half so fair,
===As when the rosebud decks her head,
====And garlands crown her hair.

Our friendship like the ivy spreads,
=But, grafted as the oak,
Secure it stands in sun and storm,
=Against each random stroke.
Our hearts are as the snow-drop pure,
=That dips in crystal wave,
But, like the thistle on the hill,
=Oppression's blast we brave.
===And he that's false in heart or hand,
====Oblivious maybe sink!
===May hemlock be his _laurel_ crown,
====And wormwood be his drink!

Oh! may the flowery paths of youth,
=Where weeds too often grow,
Conduct us to those green retreats,
=Where fruits autumnal grow.
And, when the blighting dews of age
=Have chilled our drooping wing,
May He, who heavenly Eden keeps,
=Give us a second spring.
===Then, brethren round, the goblet crown
====With draughts of rosy wine,
==='Tis meet that we should quaff the grape
====Who rear the purple vine.

=======JAMES MILLER, Haddington.


O WHAT, and O what, did your ain laddie say
To cheer thy tim'rous trembling heart, the day he sail'd away?
He said, "I go to sunny lands, where gold is easy won:-
And the hours will chase each other, love, like wavelets in the sun."

O what, and O what, if your ain lad should see
A lassie wi' mair gowden locks, jimp waist, aud witchin' e'e
O no; the love I bear for him tells me his heart is true-
"For the love I bear my lass," he said, "will bring me back to you."

O what, and O what, when your ain dear lad comes hame?
He said that he would marry me, and then I'll bear his name.
He said he'd bigg a bonnie house, beside a wimplin' burn;
Sae shouldna that cheer up my heart to wait my lad's return?

But what will befa', when your ain dear lad is thine?
Aye, what will befa' when my ain dear lad is mine?
Some folks are owre inqueesitive; live, kind sir, and you'll see.
Oh! I wish frae my heart he was safely back to me.



AE night a wee bird in my ear
=Sang "Jamie's faithless to ye;"
I half believ'd the bird was right,
=I was sae fear'd he'd lea' me.
I took a seam, to try to sew,
=My e'e grew dim an' tearie;
A lassie's lightlied by the lave
=When she has lost her dearie.

I rose to do a turn o' wark,
=Frae thought just to divert me;
The wee bird sang, "The summer win'
=Anither lad will airt ye."
O fause wee bird!  O faithless heart
=O' mine, to doubt or swither;
He said the burn wad backward turn
=Ere he wad lo'e anither.

June's dewy gloamin's heard his vows,
=The blossom'd hawthorn squander'd
Its lovelike sweetness on the air
=As lad an' lass we wander'd.
Wi' lo'esome words he won my heart,
=Wi' gentle dautin's bound it;
He is a sun within my breast,
=Wi' worlds o' love around it.



THINK on the time when thy heart beat a measure,
=All tuneful as woods with the music of love;
Then say if thy breast can forget e'er the pleasure
=Gave by flowers at thy feet or the haw-bloom above.
Tell, then, the lover to woo in the e'ening,
=Down where the haw-blossom's flourishing seen,
Sweeter shade never two young hearts was screenin'
=Than the thorn with its snaw-crown and mantle of green.

If with such sweetness aroond them when roamin',
=The heart of the lassie sae guileless is won,
For ever the haw-bloom, the richness of gloamin',
=And the blush of his dearie shall mingle in one.
Bloom with the lily breath, everywhere growing,
=Down in the deep glen thy white crown is seen,
High 'mid the dark firs alike art thou blowing,
=Thou'rt the banner of love and the summer's fair queen.



THE blue bell! the blue bell! I'll try to sing thy praise,
For thou hast been to me a joy in many lonely ways;
When listening to the skylark, it puzzled me to tell
Which were the most beloved-his notes, or thou, tho Scottish bell.

The blue bell! the blue bell! nae wonder that I lo'e
The dewy shimmerin' gloamin', for ever linked wi' you-
A band o' rosy rovers then, we rifled copes an' dell
For meadow-queen to bind wi' thee, thou bonnie, gracefu' bell.

The blue bell! the blue bell! where'er we wandering go,
By highway, or by byeway, or where tiny streamlets flow;
By hedgerow, or in leafy lane, or by the wayside well,
We meet in nook, or marge o' brook, thy bonnie droopin' bell.

The blue bell! the blue bell! does Afric's traveller dream
O' slender, wavin' flow'rets, that grow by Clutha's stream;
O' being once again a boy, with blue bells in his hand,
An' wake to bless the dream that gave to him his native land?

The sang o' the mavis, frae aff the holly-tree,
The lintie in the whin-bush that sings sae merrilie,
The hum o' rural murmurs, like sound o' ocean shell,
Are ever thine, for glaumorie is round the sweet blue bell.



Now, Pheelan, lay aside your tricks,
=It's me you would be chating,
How could ye say ye'd stole my heart;-
=Sure can't you hear it bating?
A truce to all your wheedling ways,
=Your winning, soft palaver;
Ye'd stale my heart, but keep your own,
=Ye arrant sly decaiver.

When sitting by the blarney stone,
=Ye vowed ye loved me dearly;
But didn't I hear ye say ye loved
=My cousin as sincerely?
Bedad! there's ne'er a fair colleen
='Twixt here and far Killarney
Whose heart ye have not tried to win
=Wi' your confounded blarney.

Pat Meelan is a gintleman
=Of Nature's own uprarin',
And if he's axed me to the fair,
=Why need you now be carin'?
My charming cousin, Kate Molloy,
=Will share the fun wi' Pheelan;-
Sure ye needn't stare, for I'll be there
=Wi' Mr Patrick Meelan.

Ye'll "thread upon his ould coat tail,
=His rarin' to discover;"
Ah, Pheelan, have a care, my boy,
=For Pat's a jealous lover.
"Ye'll rather die than give me up,
=To Pat or any other;"
Well, say ye don't love cousin Kate,
=And that will end the bother.

O dear, O dear, I feel so queer,
=Sure Love's a wicked fairy,
For when my heart says Pheelan's true,
=My head says quite contrairy.
But, Pheelan, promise ye'll be true,
=Your vow ye won't be breakin';
When next the head and heart fall out,
=Heart's counsel I'll be takin'.



O, IT'S fine when the boats come in,
=When the boats come in sea early,
When the lift it is blue, an' the herring are fu',
=And the sun glints on a' thing rarely;-
When the wives, buskit braw, an' the bairns an' a'
=Come linkin' down to the quay, O,
The very fisher dogs pu' each other by the lugs
=And join in the general glee, O!
==Then hey for the boats, for the bonnie braw boats
===That are bound for the Drave the year, O;
==Long live our auld town, may she never gang down,
===And God keep the men an' the gear, O!

The auld, auld men come hirplin' then,
=And "ahoy" to the fisher lads sae cheerly,
When there's sae mony crans, there'll be plighting o' han's,
=And the lasses lo'e a fine Drave dearly!
O, there's mirth an' there's glee-on ilk face do ye see
=The ghaist o' a gloom or a frown, O?
Na, na, though we may greet sair some ither day,
=There's a lauch ower the hale o' the town, O!
===Then hey for the boats, &c.

The sea is our ain, na lordly domain
=Can compare wi' our acres o' ocean,
As freemen we stand-and to bow to command,
=It ne'er entered our heads, sic a notion!
Come woe or come weal, we'll stick by the creel,
=The yawl an' the net an' the line, O;
The storm may come soon, hut there's Ane up abune
=Will carry us safe through the brine, O!
===Then hey for the boats, &c.



YOUR blackened stem proclaims to a'
=Hoo weel smoked ye hae been,
To pairt wi' ye wad almost draw
=The tear-drap frae my e'en.

But ah! in life we'll never pairt,
=Yer charms I'll ne'er forsake,
The ties that bind ye to my heart
=Are far ower strong to break.

In pensive hours your aid I seek
=To soothe dull cankerin' care,
An' troubles borne upon your reek
=Suns vanish in the air.

Your soothin' influence proves a balm
=Far mair than words can tell,
An' peace and sweet contentment calm
=Beneath your cloud doth dwell.

Of Fortune a' I ask on earth
=Is sure a simple boon:
A guid-gaun pipe, a hamely hearth,
=A few choice freen's aroon'.

Then she 'mang fortune hunters may
=Her choicest blessings share;
If threepenee an' a seasoned clay
=Are mine, I ask nae mair.

========JOHN G. KIDD.


O, MY mither's flytin' at me
=For no bidin' mair at hame,
Sayin' I'm a lazy limmer,
=An' a glaikit senseless dame.
Fain am I to dae her biddin',
=For I hae the he'rt an' will,
But I canna bide frae Jamie
=At the auld meal mill.

Aften in the early mornin'
=When the burnie's glitterin' bricht,
An' the buttercups are openin'
=To the fair sun's silver licht,
I'm awa' thro' field and plantin',
=An' I'm speilin' ower the hill,
To see my laddie workin'
=At the auld meal mill.

An' when gowden glints are glowing
=Ower the broon braes in the west,
An' when ilka birdie's fleein'
=Hame to nestle in its nest,
In my breist my he'rt is thumpin'
=To the ripplin' o' the rill,
As I gae to meet my laddie
=At the auld meal mill.

Yestreen, when in the shadow
=O' its ivy-covered wa's,
I vow'd to leave my mither
=Ere the fleece o' winter fa's;
An' she'll no withhaud her blessin'
=When I gang ayont the hill,
To wed an' bide wi' Jamie,
=At the auld meal mill.



A SPOT we never can forget,
=Gang roamin' whaur we will,
O'er mony an' mony a weary gate
=Its memory's treasure still;
Its memory's treasure e'en the han'
=O' poortith canna claim;
That spot's the dearest ane to me,
=My childhood's happy hame.
I never, never can forget,
=Gang roamin' whaur I may,
Yon wee bit theekit hoosie
=On the sunny, gowany brae.

It wisna just a lordly place,
=But, freen's, 'twas _hame_, ye see,
An' hame's a heaven to joy an' youth,
=Whatever like it be;
Ay! hearts were there as blythe as birds
=When woke wi' mornin' beams,
An' hearts had hope that turned to gowd
=The future wi' their dreams.
Ah, fancy never sees that spot
=Amid youth's gowden years,
But gentle, tender thochts stir up
=The fount o' quiet tears!



MARY wi' the gowden hair,
=Bonnie Mary, gentle Mary;
O, but ye are sweet an' fair,
=My winsome, charming Mary.
Your e'en are like the starnies clear,
Your cheeks like blossoms o' the brier,
An' O, your voice is sweet to hear,
=My ain, my bonnie dearie.

But dearer than your bonnie face,
=Bonnie Mary, gentle Mary,
Or a' your beauty's bloom an' grace,
=My winsome, charming Mary,
Is ilka motion, void o' airt,
That lends a grace to ilka pairt,
An' captivates ilk manly heart,
=Wi' love for thee, my dearie.

But, Mary, lassie, tak' advice,
=Bonnie Mary, gentle Mary;
Be mair than guid, braw lass: be wise,
=My winsome, charming Mary;
An' gie your heart to ane that's true,
Wha'll live to love nae ane but you;
An' blythe you'll be an' never rue,
=My ain, my bonnie dearie

=======JAMES KENNEDY, New York.


By the Rev. JAMES GREIG, Minister of Chapel of Garioch, Aberdeenshire.  Died 1859.

OH, it wasna her daddy's lairdly kin,
=It wasna her siller-the clinkin' o't;
It wasna her minny's welcome in;
='Twas her ain blue e'e-the blinkin' o't.
The blinkin' ot, the blinkin' o't,
=Oh, weary fa' the blinkin' o't;
My heart and a' she's stown awa'
=Wi' the lythesome, blythesome blinkin' o't.

It wasna the licht o' her snawy broo,
=Nor her gowden hair-the dinkin o't,
Her dimplet cheek, nor her cherry mou'.
=Nor her braw, braw goun-the prinkin' o't;
'Twas a' her e'e - the blinkin' o't,
=Oh, weary fa' the blinklin' o't;
Nae a' her charms could work such harms
=As the lythesome, blythesome blinkin' o't.

A' day I dream o' its witchin' gleam,
=A' nicht I wauk wi' thinkin' o't;
Afield, at hame, wi' sib or frem'd,
=I'm glamour't wi' the blinkin' o't.
The blinkin' o't, the blinkin' o't,
=Oh, weary fa' the blinkin' o't;
My peace is deen, my wits are gane,
=Wi' the lythesome, blythesome blinkin' o't.

Fanever I teach, fanever I preach,
=I'm dottled as gin I'd been drinkin' o't;
Fanever I sing, or play a spring,
=The burden's aye-the blinkin' o't.
The blinkin' o't, the blinkin' o't,
=Oh, weary fa' the blinkin o't;
I'm fear't fu' aft I'll gang clean daft
=Wi' the lythesome, blythesome blinkin' o't.

'Tween hopes and fears, 'tween joys and tears,
=My heart is at the sinkin' o't;
I'd better dee at ance than dree
=The pain I thole fae the blinkin' o't.
The blinkin' o't, the blinkin' o't,
=Oh, weary fa' the blinkin' o't;
I'm sad, I'm sair, I'm in despair,
=Wi' the lythesome, blythesome blinkin' o't.

But, oh, gin she wad smile on me,
=And gi'e Mess John the linkin' o't,
Nae wardle's care should ever mair
=Torment me wi' the jinkin' o't.
Oh, then I'd bless the blinkin' o't,
=The smilin', wilin' blinkin' o't,
And cheerfu' live or happy dee
=I' the lythesome, blythesome blinkin' o't.


AIR - "_I had a horse, and I had nae mair._"

I DEARLY lo'e the gloamin' hour,
=E'en when in sorrow pinin',
When dewdraps bathe the faulded flower,
=And ae fair star is shinnin',
When song frae every plantin' streams,
=A world o' joys revealin',
And boyhood's joys and manhood's dreams
=Are owre my memory stealin'.

I dearly lo'e, at gloamin' hour,
=To watch the deepenin' shadow
Owre mountain, moor, and woodland lower,
=While mist hangs owre the meadow,
When leanin' on some auld dyke-stile,
=Hope's lamp my heart illumin',
I croon some sang o' happy toil,
=At peace wi' a' things human.

What heart but lo'es the gloamin' hour?
=Then rest comes to the weary;
Love lurks in glen and woodland bower,
=And Jeannie meets her dearie.
Then sweetest seems the mutual tale
=O' vows, and hopes, and wishes;
And O, how sweet, through gloamin's veil,
=The glow o' Jeannie's blushes!

Thou art a priestess, gloamin' hour,
=And aye thou gie'st us warnin'
That life, at best a fragile flower,
=May fade before the mornin'.
Oh! may we a' sae leeve, that we,
=Arrived at ae life's gloamin',
May upward gaze wi' hopefu e'e,
=And wait the life that's comin'!



MY name is Polly Hill, and I've got a lover Bill,
=But he's caused me many a pang;
For his regiment got the rout, and he's gone to the right about,
===To the Yang-Tsi-Kiang.

Oh, the war had broken out, though I don't know what about;
=But they that make the wars, go hang!
For he's gone with thousands ten, to fight the Chinamen
===On the Yang-Tsi-Kiang.

Oh, it's five years passed away, till it fell upon a day,
=As I sat at the door and sang,
That a soldier stopped and said, "Oh, your lover Bill is dead,
===On the Yang-Tsi-Kiang.

"It was in a tea-tree glen, that we met the Chinamen,
=And one of the rogues let bang;
Which laid poor William low, with his toe to the foe,
===On the Yang-Tsi-Kiang.

"'Oh,' says poor Bill to me, 'take this little sprig of tea,
=And tell Poll where it sprang.'
Now that was all he said, when his head dropped like lead.
===On the Yang-Tsi-Kiang.

"So here I hand to thee, this little sprig of tea,
='Twas by poor Bill's grave that it sprang;
You may keep it if you will, as a souvenir of Bill,
===And the Yang-Tsi-Kiang."

"Now, my soldier boy," says I, "is there green in my eye?
=(Pray, pardon me the use of slang,)
For I'm still your Polly Hill, and you're welcome home, my Bill,
===From the Yang-Tsi-Kiang."

======="The Scottish Probationer."


WHEN I was a laddie langsyne at the schule,
The maister aye ca'd me a dunce an' a fule;
For somehoo his words I could ne'er un'erstan',
Unless when he bawled "Jamie, haud oot yer han'!"
=Then I gloom'd and said "Im-hm,"
=I glunch'd, and said "Tm-hm"-
I wasna' owre proud, but owre dour to say - A-y-e!

Ae day, a queer word, as lang-nebbit's himsel',
He vow'd he would thrash me if I wadna spell,
Quo' I, "Maister Quill," wi' a kin' o' a swither,
"I'll spell ye the word if ye'll spell me anither-
=Let's hear ye spell 'Im-hm,'
=That common word 'Im-hm,'
That auld Scotch word 'Im-hm,' ye ken it means A-y-e."

Had ye seen hoo he glowr'd, hoo he scratched his big pate,
An' shouted "Ye villain, get oot o' my gate!
Get aff to yer seat! ye're the plague o' the schule!
The deil o' me kens, if ye're maist rogue or fule."
=But I only said "Im-hm,"
=That pawkie word "Im-hm,"
He couldna spell "Im-hm," that stands for an - A-y-e!

An' when a brisk wooer, I courted my Jean-
O' Avon's braw lasses the pride an' the queen-
When 'neath my grey plaidie, wi' heart beatin' fain,
I speired in a whisper, if she'd be my ain,
=She blush'd, an' said "Im-hm,"
=That charming word "Im-hm,"
A thousan' times better an' sweeter than - A-y-e!

Jist ae thing I wantit my bliss to complete,
A kiss frae her rosy mou', couthie an' sweet;
But a shake o' the heid was her only reply-
Of course that said no, but I kent she meant A-y-e,
=For her sly e'en said "Im-hm,"
=Her red lips said "Im-hm,"
Her hale face said "Im-hm," and "Im-hm" means A-y-e.

An' noo I'm a dad wi' a hoose o' my ain-
A dainty bit wifie, an' mair than ae wean:
But the warst o't is this-when a question I speir,
They pit on a look sae auld-farran' an' queer,
=But only say "Im-hm,"
=That daft-like word "Im-hm,"
That vulgar word "Im-hm" - they winna say - A-y-e!

Ye've heard hoo the de'il, as he wauchel'd through Beith
Wi' a wife in ilk oxter, an' ane in his teeth,
When some ane cried oot, "Will ye tak' mine the morn?'
He wagg'd his auld tail while he cockit his horn,
=But only said "Im-hm,"
=That usefu' word "Im-hm,"
Wi' sic a big mouthfu' be couldna say - A-y-e!

Sae I've gi'en owre the "Im-hm" - it's no a nice word;
When printed on paper it's perfect absurd;
Sae if ye're owre lazy to open yer jaw,
Just haud ye yer tongue, an' sae naething ava';
=But never say "Im-hm,"
=That daft-like word "Im-hm,"
It's ten times mair vulgar than even braid A-y-e!



THERE are mony kye o' different breeds,
=Baith big, an' middlin', an' sma',
An' guid, an' bad, an' indifferent, too,
=An' hornies an' doddies an' a'.
But there's no a hawkie in a' the lot,
=For filli' the milkin'-pail,
Can compare wi' her that's the theme o' my sang-
=The coo wi' the iron tail.

An' oh! she's an unco usefu' beast,
=For the leelang winter through,
She never gangs yell gif she's keepit in trim,
=Whatever the ithers may do;
An' the folks wha drive a trade in milk
=I'm sure their supply wad fail,
Gif it wisna for this by-ordinar' beast-
=The coo wi' the iron tail.

She's easy keepit, she needs nae meat,
=Except when she's aff the fang,
When a drink o' water sune puts her as richt
=As if she had never been wrang.
An' though ye wad search the breadth o' the globe,
=Frae America's wilds to Crail,
Ye'll no find a beast for supplyin' the sap
=Like the coo wi' the iron tail.

O' different sizes, an' different shapes,
=An' different colours she's seen;
She's sometimes black, an' sometimes white,
=An' blue, an' yellow, an' green.
An' she stands the bitterest winter storm,
='Mid frost, an' snaw, an' hail;
Wi' a rough strae-raip row'd roun' her craig-
=The coo wi' the iron tail.

An' yet there are some, I'm sorry to say,
=Wad hint that she's no the thing-
That the milk shs gie's has a bluish hue,
=An' a taste o' the cauler spring.
But what signifies that i' this warld o' ours,
=When it meets wi' a ready sale;
Sae here's to the milkman's stay an' support-
=The coo wi' the iron tail.



MY lassie, ye ken ye hae hurt me fu' sair,
Unkindness frae you was pure sorrow to hear,
I lo'ed ye sae weel, but I'll vex ye nae mair,
=Nor fash you again in the gloamin'.

I thocht to hae won ye and made ye my bride,
I thocht to hae worn ye in triumph and pride,
And threaded life's mazes wi' you by my side,
=And lilted through mony a gloamin'.

But I maen na my weird, tho' 'tis painfu' to dree,
And I canna forget the dear blinks o' your e'e;
But, oh, may some ither, far better than me,
=Be your leal, faithfu' friend in the gloamin'.

And when time brings the day whence your joys are to start,
And you gi'e him your han' wi' your kindly bit heart,
May peace frae your cheery fireside ne'er depart,
=And love aye be there in the gloamin'.

Ye canna miss trials, they come aye ower sune;
But when life's wearin' in, and your wark is a' dune,
May ye share wi' your dear ones the glories abune,
=And a day that has never a gloamin'.



HELP yersel's whaure'er ye gang, an' aye work awa',
'Mang the simmer sunshine, and the cheerless winter snaw;
Never lippen tae yer frien's, tho' they may loudly blaw,
Help yersel's whaure'er ye gang, an aye work awa'.
Aye work awa', my frien's, O aye work awa',
Help yersel's whaure'er ye gang, an' aye work awa'.


=Aye work awa', my frien's, O aye work awa',
=Help yersel's whaure'er ye gang, an' aye work awa'.
=Aye work awa', my frien's, O aye work awa',
=Help yersel's whaure'er ye gang, an' aye work awa'.

Fortune favours them wha work aye wi' a busy haun',
Folk'll ne'er win forrit, if they at the fire-en' staun';
Look afore ye tak' the loup in muckle things an' sma',
Tak' things in a canny way, but aye work awa'.
Aye work awa', my frien's, O aye work awa',
Help yersel's whaure'er ye gang, an' aye work awa'.
==Aye work awa', &c.

Dinna speak unkindly words aboot the folk ye ken,
Never let a bitter ane anither's ear gae ben;
Lifeless folk are fau'tless, but there's nane without a flaw,
Kindly speak o' neibours, then, an' aye work awa'.
Aye work awa', my frien's, O aye work awa',
Help yersel's whaure'er ye gang, an' aye work awa'.
==Aye work awa', &c.

Never say that ye're ill-used, though prood folk pass ye by,
Want o' sense mak's witless folk aft haud their heads ower high,
Dauner on, ne'er fash yer thoom wi' sic like folk ava',
Warsel on fu' cheerily, an' aye work awa'.
Aye work awa', my frien's, O aye work awa',
Help yersel's whaure'er ye gang, an' aye work awa'.
==Aye work awa', &c.

Keep a ca'm sough, never let your tongue wag up and doon,
Empty girnels are aye sure to gi'e the modest soon';
When ye hear o' ithers' quarrels, while they scrape and craw,
"Mang them be't" be aye your word, an' aye work awa'.
Aye work awa', my frien's, O aye work awa',
Help yersel's whaure'er ye gang, an' aye work awa',
==Aye work awa', &c.

Life a' through is jist a fecht e'en to the very grave,
Better life abune is promised to the leal an' brave;
Let us fecht wi' faithfu' he'rts, and we'll owercome it a',
Help yersel's whaure'er ye gang, an' aye work awa'.
Aye work awa', my frien's, O aye work awa',
Help yersel's whaure'er ye gang, an' aye work awa'.
==Aye work awa', &c.