WHISTLE-BINKIE FOURTH SERIES. ROSY CHEEKIT APPLES. AIR - "_What's a' the steer?_" COME awa', bairnie, =For your bawbee, Rosy cheekit apples =Ye shall hae three: A' sae fou' o' hinny, =They drappit frae the tree, Like your bonny sel' =A' the sweeter they are wee. Come awa', bairnie, =Dinna shake your head; Ye mind me o' my ain bairn, =Lang, lang, dead. Ah! for lack o' nourishment =He drappit frae the tree; Like your bonny sel', =A' the sweeter he was wee. Oh! auld frail folk =Are like auld fruit trees: They canna stand the gnarl =O' the cauld winter breeze. But heaven tak's the fruit =Tho' earth forsake the tree; An' we mourn our fairy blossoms, =A' the sweeter they were wee. Come awa', bairnie, =For your bawbee, Rosy cheekit apples =Ye shall hae three: A' sae fou' o' hinny, =They drappit frae the tree; Like your bonny sel', =A' the sweeter they are wee. =======James Ballantine. THE SLEEPY WEE LADDIE. ARE ye no gaun to wauken the day, ye rogue? Your parritch is ready and cule in the cog; Auld bawdrons sae gaucy, and Tam o' that ilk, Wad fain hae a drap o' the wee laddie's milk. There's a wee burd singin' - "get up, get up!" Losh! listen it cries, "tak' a whup, tak' a whup!" But I'll "heat a wummil" - a far better plan- Or pouther his pow, wi' a waterin'-can. There's claes to wash - and the house to redde, And I canna begin till I mak' the bed; For I count it nae brag to be clever as some, Wha, while bakin' a bakin, can soop the lum. 'Tis nine o'clock! and father, ye ken, Has scrimpitly time a minute to spen'! But a blink o' his wifie and bairn on her knee, Aye lightens his toll, tho' sair it may be. So get up to your parritch! and on wi' your claes! There's a fire on might warm the Norlan braes! For a parritch cog, and a clean hearth-stane Are saut and sucker in our town-en'. =======William Miller. DREAMINGS OF THE BEREAVED. AIR - "_Lochaber no more._" THE morning breaks bonnie o'er mountain an' stream, =An' troubles the hallowed breath o' my dream; The goud light of morning is sweet to the ee; =But ghost-gathering midnight, thou'rt dearer to me: The dull common world then sinks from my sight, =An' fairer creations arise to the night; When drowsy oppression has sleep-sealed my ee, =Then bright are the visions awaken'd to me! O! come Spirit-Mother - discourse of the hours, =My young bosom beat all its beatings to yours; When heart-woven wishes in soft counsel tell =On ears-how unheedful prov'd sorrow might tell! That deathless affection-nae trial could break, =When a' else forsook me ye would in forsake; Then come, O my mother! come often to me, =An' soon an' for ever I'll come unto thee. An' thou shrouded loveliness' soul-winning Jean, =How cold was thy hand on my bosom yestreen! 'Twas kind - for the lowe that your ee kindled these, =Will burn - ay an' burn - 'till that breast beats nae mair. Our bairnies sleep round me, O bless ye their sleep! =Your ain dark-ee'd Willie will wauken an' weep; But blithe in his weepin', he'll tell me how you =His heaven-hamed mammie was "dawtin' his brou." Tho' dark be our dwelling - our happing tho' bare, =And night creeps around us in cauldness and care, Affection will warm us; for bright are the beams =That halo our hame in yon dear land of dreams: Then weel may I welcome the night's deathy reign- =Wi' souls of the dearest I mingle me then! The goud light of morning is lightless to me, =But O for the night wi' its ghost reveirie! =======William Thom. THE WELLS O' WEARIE. AIR - "_Bonny house o' Airlie._" SWEETLY shines the sun on auld Edinbro' toun, =And mak's her look young and cheerie; Yet I maun awa' to spend the afternoon =At the lanesome wells o' Wearie. And you maun gang wi' me, my winsome Mary Grieve, =There's nought in the world to fear ye; For I hae ask'd your minnie, and she has gien ye leave =To gang to the wells o' Wearie. O the sun winna blink in thy bonny blue een, =Nor tinge the white brow o' my dearie, For I'll shade a bower wi' rashes lang and green, =By the lanesome wells o' Wearie. But Mary, my love, beware ye dinna glower =At your form in the water sae clearly, Or the fairy will change ye into a wee wee flower, =And you'll grow by the wells o' Wearie. Yestreen, as I wanuered there a' alane, =I felt unco douf and drearie, For wanting my Mary a' around me was but pain =At the lanesome wells o' Wearie. Let fortune or fame their minions deceive, =Let fate look gruesome and eerie; True glory and wealth are mine wi' Mary Grieve, =When we meet by the wells o' Wearie. Then gang wi' me, my bonny Mary Grieve, =Nae danger will daur to come near ye, For I hae ask'd your minnie, and she has gien ye leave =To gang to the wells o' Wearie. =======Alex. A. Ritchie. MY WIFIE AN' ME. AIR - "_Toddlin' but and toddlin' ben._" THE laddles now laugh at my wifie and me, Tho' auld aboon countin', yet canty are we; They scarce can believe me, when aften I say My Kate and her jo were ance blithesome as they. =My wifie an' me, my wifie an' me, =What gars them a' laugh at my wifie an' me? Now wither'd an' cripple, an' maistly as frail As the wa's o' our housie that rock i' the gale; Wha ance wi' the lasses could jig it wi' me; Or shaw'd sic a leg, an' wha loupit sae hie? =My wifie an' me, &c. Though my pow is now bel' as the howe o' my han', An' the crap on my chin's like the down o' the swan, The day's been my haffets fu' richly were clad, When the een now sae dim could be match'd wi' the gled. =My wifie an' me, &c. An' Kate! my auld lassie, it seems like yestreen Sin' ye were run after frae mornin' to een; Then happy the lad frae ye're ee could beguile What his fancy might count as the gift o' a smile. =My wifie an' me, &c. A' day what a steer did ye mak' in my breast; Night fauldit her wings, but she brought me nae rest; My blude gallop'd wild as a cowte owre the green, An' my heart it gaed duntin' the lang simmer een. =My wifie an' me, &c. But Katy, my dawtie! tho' auld we hae grown, The love's but the firmer sae early was sown; As canty's we've speel'd it we'll slip down life's brae, Au' we'll creep aye the closer the langer we gae. =My wifie an' me, my wifie an' me, =Just let them laugh on at my wifie an' me! =======Thomas C. Latte. JOHN BUCHAN. AIR - "_The deil amang the tailers._" HE'S a douce-leukin, fair-spoken carle, John Buchan- But nane i' the parish maun thraw wi' John Buchan; He has power o' the laird, o' the parson, an' people, The keys o' the kirk, an' the tow o' the steeple! Do ye want a new tack? are ye ca'd to the session? Hae ye quarrell'd wi' neebours, an' i' the transgression? Hae ye meetin' to haud i' the kirk, or the clachan? Do ye want the bell rung? ye maun speak to John Buchan! There's weight in his word! do ye wonder what's made it? I'll tell ye that too, though its nane to our credit; He keeps the braw shop at the cross o' the clachan, Au' we're a' deep in debt to our merchant, John Buchan! An' the fear, an' the terror o' poindin' an' hornin', An' turnin' us out at the bauld _beagle's_ warnin', Without bield or bannock, wi' scarce rag or rauchan, Maks the hail parish wag at the wind o' John Buchan! =======Alex. Laing. MY AIN HANE AT E'EN. AIR - "_And sae will we yet._" LET the drouthy, boozin', tipplin' loon, that doesna loe his hame, Wha throws awa' his wits an' gear wi' ilka gill-house dame- E'en let him a' his pleasures fin' in the nightly revel scene; But mine lies a' in Maggie, an' my ain hame at e'en. =My ain hame at e'en, O my ain hame at e'en; =Where sweetest smiles hing o'er me, at my ain hame at e'en. How gladsome pass my hours wi' my bonnie Meg sae leal! An', to see our tender pledges rompin' roun' our cozie biel'; Where, i' their gleesome faces, ilka mither-feature's seen, For we live an' love thegither at our ain hame at e'en. =My ain hame at e'en, &c. Tho' o' this warld's gear we can boast but little share, We're contented aye, an' happy, sae we wish for naething mair; I wadna change for kingly ha', or pearl-muntit Queen! Sae dear to me is Maggie, an' my ain haame at e'en. =My ain hame at e'en, &c. Should the chiel wi' the shearin' hook, an' chafts sae lank an' thin, Come an' steal awa' my Maggie fair, an' leave puir me behin', Nae mair would cheerie smiles ever welcome me, I ween, But a' be douff and drearie at my ain hame at e'en. =My ain hame at e'en, &c. I'd rather, when he comes, he'd lay a paw on ilka pow, 'Twould save the carle a tramp, an' hae twa for ane, I trow; Gin he'll gi'e's a bit respite, syne, guid day to ilka frien', We'll tak the road thegither to our lang hame at e'en. =Our lang hame at e'en, to our lang hame at e'en, ="Hand in hand" we'll toddle on to our lang hame at e'en. =======Tho. Frume. THE KNIGHT'S RETURN. FAIR Ellen, here again I stand, =All dangers now are o'er; No sigh, to reach my native land, =Shall rend my bosom more. Ah! oft, beyond the heaving main, =I mourn'd at Fate's decree; I wished but to be back again =To Scotland and to thee. O Ellen! how I prized thy love, =In foreign lands afar! Upon my helm I bore thy glove =Through thickest ranks of war And as the pledge, in battle-field, =Recall'd thy charms to me, I breath'd a prayer behind my shield =For Scotland and for thee. I scarce can tell how eagerly =My eyes were hither cast, When, faintly rising o'er the sea, =These hills appeared at last, My very heart, as on the shore =I bounded light and free, Declared by throbs the love I bore =To Scotland and to thee. Thro' all the days it has been mine =In other climes to roam, I've seen no lovelier form than thine, =No sweeter spot than home. The wealth is much, the honours rare, =That Fortune shower'd on me; And these, beloved! I come to share, ='Midst Scotland's hills, with thee! =======Rob. White. WILLIE'S AWAY! _Music by Mr. M'Leod._ THE last wreath o' winter has fled frae the hill- The breeze whispers low to the murmuring rill- The spring smiles around me, and ilka thing's gay, But what shall delight me? - my Willie's away! I smile as they bid me, when neebours are nigh- I joke as I dow, when the jest circles by- I tell them I'm cheery, but sighs tell them - nay- I canna dissemble-my Willie's away! I busk me wi' claes that it pleased him to see- I wear the love token that Willie gae me- The sangs he lo'ed maist I wad sing a' the day, But saut tears prevent me - my Willie's away. When the bright star o' gloaming climbs up in the sky, I start, ere I wist, to our trysting to hie; Alake! my puir heart's fa'n to sorrow a prey, There's nane there to meet me - my Willie's away. The same leaves that sighed where my faither was laid- The autumn wind strewed o'er my mother's cauld bed- They left me in childhood, and ah! well a-day!- My last joy's departed - my Willie's away. =======James Murray. O JEANIE, WHY THAT LOOK SAE CAULD? "O JEANIE! why that look sae cauld =And withering to me now? And wherefore scowls that cloud o' gloom =Upon thy bonnie braw? What hae I said, what hae I done, =To draw sic looks frae thee? Is this thy love - thy fond regard, =Sae lately pledged to me?" "O Jamie! spier na that at me, =But guess the cause yoursel', Ye thocht, yestreen, ye werena seen =Alang wi' bonnie Bell? Your arm enclaspit round her waist, =Your cheek to her's was laid, And mony smelting kiss she gat =While row'd within your plaid." "O lassie dear! why vex yoursel' =Wi' jealous thochts and mean, For I was twenty miles and mair =Awa' frae hame yestreen? I gaed to see my sister dear- =A gift she sent to thee; And see - thou maun this necklace wear =That day thou'rt wed to me." "And are you then still true to me'? =I'll ne'er forgi'e mysel'; O what could tempt me to believe =You'd quit your Jean for Bell? But there's my hand-I'll never mair =Dream foolish thochts o' thee, But love wi' a' a woman's love, =Till light forsake mine e'e." =======Alex. Rodger. OUR AIN BURN SIDE. AIR - "_The Brier Bush._" OH! weel I mind the days, by our ain burn side, When we clam the sunny braes, by our ain burn side; =When flowers were blooming fair, =And we wandered free o' care, For happy hearts were there, by our ain burn side! Oh! blythe was ilka sang, by our ain burn side, Nor longest day seemed lang, by our ain burn side; =When we decked our woodland queen =In the rashy chaplet green, And gay she look'd, I ween, by our ain burnside! But the bloom hath left the flower, by our ain burn side, And gathering tempests lower, by our ain burn side; =The woods-no longer green, =Brave the wintry blasts sae keen, And their withered leaves are seen, by our ain burn side. And the little band is gane, frae our ain burn side, To meet, ah! ne'er again, by our ain burn side; =And the winter of the year =Suits the heart both lane and sere, For the happy ne'er appear, by our ain burn side. =======Rob. Gilfillan. DUNCAN DHU's TRIBULATIONS. AIR - "_Killicrankie._" NAINSEL was porn a shentleman, =An' wadna work ava, man! Sae ribbons till her ponnet preen'd: =An' shoin'd the Forty-twa, man. Ta sergeant was a lawlan' loon, =An' kick'd her like a pa', man; Her Heelan stamack no like tat, =An' sae she ran awa', man. She shanged her name frae Duncan Dhu =To, _what_, she winna tell, man; But Donald Gun or Ranald Mhor =Shust sair'd her turn as well, man. Syne teuk ta tramp wi a' her speel =Beyond Glenocher fell, man, An' wi' a pand o' pretty men =She wrought ta ouskie stell, man. She gather'd gear frae year to year, =An' made ta pot play prown, man; But SHORGE TA TIRD gat in a rage, =An' swore he'd put her down, man; Syne sent ta local volunteers, =Led by ta gauger loon, man, An'crush'd her stell, and proke her worm, =An' crack'd her vera croon, man. They pu'd her wee bit bothie down, =Her maat prunt on ta fluir, man; They dung her parrels a' to staves, =They were sae curst an' duir, man. They teuk her ouskies, stoup an' roup, =An', och! she was a puir man; There wasna sic a fell stramash =Sin' days o' Shirra Muir, man! At last the gauger's colley cam =An' spoked a lang oration, How "SHORGE was no to haud nor bind, =An' greetin' wi' vexation; An' she'll maun pay to fifty pound =To cover her transgression, Or gang to Inverara shall =For leecit instillation." Ochone! ochone! they lodged her deep =Into ta Massymore, man, Ta rattonses an' mices danced =Shantreuse about the floor, man; But Donald Oig, ta shailor-laad, =Forgot to lock ta door, man- An' noo she works ta pigger stell =Nor e'er she wrought pefore, man! =======David Nedder. WAT O' THE HOWE. AIR - "_The Laird o' Cockpen._" WHA e'er came ow're Soutra kenned Wat o' the Howe, Wi' the smooth sleekit tongue, and the beld shining powe, A' the Tweed and the Gala, frae Kelso to Stowe, Had a' some giff gaffin' wi' Wat o' the Howe. His wee house stood lown in the neuk o' the hill, Sae couthie, that nane e'er cam' out on ae gill; E'en the snell-nebbit priest ne'er could win bye the lowe, But he'd step in to pree wi' auld Wat o' the Howe. The drappy he said too, he brew'd it himsel', He said sae, tho' whaur ne'er a bodie could tell; They whiles smell'd some peat-reek ayont the whin knowe, Yet ne'er found the stell o' auld Wat o' the Howe. He dealt in nick-nackets, tho' a' on the sly, Gin he'd what they wanted nae wifie gaed bye; They gat tea an' backo for hamilt-made tow, An' a wee drop to tak' it frae Wat o' the Howe. The cadgers' an' colliers' carts aye at the door, In a cauld winter day ye might countit a score, An' the naigs they might nicher, the collies bow wow, But they ne'er liftit early frae Wat o' the Howe. 'Twas strange that the gaugers could ne'er fin' him out, 'Twas strange that nae smugglers were e'er gaun about; 'Twas strange that e'en red-coats the loon couldna cowe, Nor find out the slee howff o' Wat o' the Howe. Yet aiblins ye'll guess how a' this cam' to be, Wat couldna be seized, for nae smuggler was he, But smuggled gear's cheap, (sae a' puir bodies trow,) Though they gatna great gaffins frae Wat o' the Howe. Wat livit ere his time, like a' ither great men, The tree that he plantit has flourish'd since then, Yet I ne'er hear Cheap John, wi' his roupin bell jowe. But I think on the slee tricks o' Wat o' the Howe. =======James Ballantine. BAD LUCK TO THIS MARCHING. AIR - "_Paddy O'Carroll._" =BAD luck to this marching. =Pipe-playing and starching; How neat one must be to be killed by the French! =I'm sick of parading, =Through wet and cowld wading, Or standing all night to be shot in a trench. =To the tune of a fife, =They dispose of your life, You surrender your soul to some illigant lilt, =Now I like Garryowen, =When I hear it at home, But it's not half so sweet when you're going to be kilt. =Then though up late and early, =Our pay comes so rarely, The devil a farthing we've ever to spare; =They say some disaster, =Befel the paymaster; In my conscience I think that the money's not there. =And, just think, what a blunder; =They won't let us plunder, While the convents invite us to rob them, tis clear; =Though there isn't a village, =But cries, "Come and pillage," Yet we leave all the mutton behind for Mounseer. =Like a sailor that's nigh land, =I long for that island Where even the kisses we steal if we please; =Where it is no disgrace, =If you don't wash your face, And you've nothing to do but to stand at your ease, =With no sergeant t'abuse us, =We fight to amuse us, Sure it's better beat Christian than kick a baboon; =How I'd dance like a fairy, =To see ould Dunleary, And think twice ere I'd leave it to be a dragoon! =======S Perm. THE BRETON HOME. WHEN the battle is o'er, and the sounds of fight =Have closed with the closing day, How happy, around the watch-fire's light, =To chat the long hours away; To chat the long hours away, my boy, =And talk of the days to come, Or a better still, and a purer joy, =To think of our far-off home. How many a check will then grew pale, =That never felt a tear! And many a stalwart heart will quail, =That never quailed in fear! And the breast that, like some mighty rock =Amid the foaming sea, Bore high against the battle's shock, =Now heaves like infancy. And those who knew each other not, =Their hands together steal, Each thinks of some long hallowed spot, =And all like brothers feel: Such holy thoughts to all are given; =The lowliest has his part; The love of home, like love of heaven, =Is woven in our heart. =======S Perm. STAR OF THE EVENING. STAR of the lover's dream! =Star of the gloaming! How sweetly blinks thy beam, =When fond ones are roaming! Pure in the heavens blue =Like chryatal gem lightly; When comes the even's hue =Thou shinest faith brightly. Know'st thou of toil and care, =Sorrow and anguish; Bosoms left cold and bare, =Lonely to languish? Has misery's bitter blast =Crush'd every flower, O'er which thy young heart cast =Hope's sunny shower? Has blighted affection =E'er sear'd thy fond heart, While sad recollection =Could never depart? Star of the even mild, =I invoke thee in vain! Useless my wish and wild, =Thou speak'st not again! Other eyes will gaze on thee =When I cease to be; True hearts walk beneath thee, =When I cannot see! Thy beams shine as clearly =On ocean's cold breast, When the heart that lov'd dearly =Is hush'd into rest! ======Thos. Young. O MEET ME, LOVE, BY MOONLIGHT. AIR - "_This is no mine ain house._" =O MEET me, love, by moonlight, =By mooolight, by moonlight, =And down the glen by moonlight, =How fondly will I welcome thee! And there, within our beechen bower, Far from ambition's giddy tower, O what a heart-enthrilling hour, =My Mary dear, I'll spend with thee! ==Then meet me, love, &c. Reclining on our mossy seat, The rivulet rippling at our feet, Enrapt in mutual transport sweet, =O who on earth so blest as we? ==Then meet me, love, &c. Our hopes and loves each sigh will speak, With lip to lip or cheek to cheek, O who more heartfelt joys would seek, =Than such, at eve, alone with thee? ==Then meet me, love, &c. To clasp thy lovely yielding waist; To press thy lips so pure and chaste; An' be in turn by thee embraced, =O that were bliss supreme to me! ==Then meet me, love, &c. Not worldling's wealth, nor lordling's show, Such solid joys can e'er bestow, As those which faithful lovers know =When heart to heart beats fervently ==Then meet me, love, &c. =======Alex. Rodger. JOCK. =THE laird's son said to Jock - "Jock! ==When ye gang to the mill, =Can ye no shouther your pock ==Without gaun to the yill? =I'st needfu' that the miller and you, ====Twa drucken sots, ====Drownin' your groats, =Should aye get roarin' fou?" ="It's a stoury place the mill, ==Master mine," quo' Jock; ="I never pass the kil', ==But aye I'm like to choke! And sae to clear ane's craig, I think, There's nought can match a waught o' drink." =The laird's son said to Jock - "Jock! ==When ye gang to the town, =I'm tauld ye snoove, an' stare, an' rock ==Alang the causeway crown, =Until ye meet some weirdless wight, ====Just like yoursel'; ====And syne pell mell =Ye fuddle awa' wi' a' your might." ="It's a queer place the town, ==Master mine," quo' Jock; ="For daunderin' up an' down, ==Ane's sure to meet kent folk:- And aye when auld friends forgither, I think It's unco cauldrife no to drink." =The lalrd's son said to Jock - "Jock! ==When ye gang to the fair, =What cause ha'e ye to treat and troke ==Wi' ilk loon and limmer there? =Is't needfu' ye should guzzle a ====Your towmond's fee, ====Now tell to me, =In a'e short day awa'?" ="The fair's a place for fun, ==Master mine," quo' Jock; ="And when we're ance begun ==We aye spin aff the rock; For when folk's merry, somehow, I think, To keep them sae there's nought like drink." =The laird's son said to Jock - "Jock! ==When ye gang to the kirk, =Can ye no, like decent folk, ==Come hame afore it's mirk? =Is't needfu' ye should sit sae late ====The change-house in, ====Till dais'd and blin', =Ye tine your hameward gate?" ="The kirk's a cauldrife place, ==Master mine," quo' Jock; ="Aiblins I'm scant o' grace, ==(Forbid! that I should mock,) But cauld at kirk or field, I think, To warm ane weel there's nought like drink." =The laird's son said to Jock - "Jock! ==I fear you'll never mend; =I fear your drouth it winna slock ==While you've a plack to spend: =At fair or kirk, or town or mill, ====It makes na where, ====Nor late, nor ear', =You'll drink your greedy fill!" ="It's but the truth ye tell, ==Master mine," quo' Jock; ="For sin' I broke the shell, ==My faults I couldna cloke; Sae haud your whisht, whate'er ye think, And let me tak' my wee drap drink." =======W. Ferguson. MY OWN MARION. _Music by Mr. Peter M'Leod._ MY own, my true-loved Marion, =No wreath for thee I'll bring; No summer-gathered roses fair, =Nor snowdrops of the spring! O! these would quickly fade, for soon =The brightest flowers depart; A wreath more lasting I will give- =A garland of the heart! My own, my true-loved Marion! =Thy morn of life was gay, Like to a stream that gently flows =Along its lovely way! And now, when in thy pride of noon =I mark thee, blooming fair, Be peace and joy still o'er thy path, =And sunshine ever there! My own, my gentle Marion! =Though this a world of woe, There's many a golden tint that falls =To gild the road we go! And in this chequered vale, to me =A light hath round me shone, Since thou cam'st from thy Highland home =In days long past and gone! My own, my true-loved Marion! =Cold, cold this heart shall be, When I shall cease to bye thee still- =To cheer and cherish thee! Like Ivy round the withered oak, =Though all things else decay, My love for thee shall still be green, =And ne'er will fade away! =======Rob Gilfillan. FHE WIFIE OUTWITTED. TUNE - "_The Laird o' Cockpen._" A CUNNIN' wee carlie was auld Robbie Young, A sly pawky body that wadna be dung; =Though tied till a wifie, =The plague o' his lifie, His tricks were a match for the wifikie's tongue. A grocer was he, in our auld borristoun, An' he coupt up his caupie, night, mornin', an' noon; =Aye watchin' an' joukin' =Whan she wasna lookin', He winket an' leugh as the drappie ran down. And aye whan the wee drop wad biz in his pow, It set a' his couthie auld heart in a lowe; =Sae kind to the bairns, =Who ran bits o' erran's, A snap or a panic he aye wad bestow. But the wifie bethought her, sae crafty an' crouse, An' removed the temptation to sell't ben the house; =Her pressie the locket, =The key in her pocket, While Robbie sat watchin' as mum as a mouse. "Tak' warnin', ye auld drunken carlie," quo' she, "Ye'll ken late or soon what the drinker maun dree; =Ae drop to your weazen, =Although it should gizen, For fechtin' or fleechin' ye'll getna frae me!" How customers gathered she couldna weel tell, The bonny auld greybeard now ran like a well; =The change aye increasin', =She thought it a blessin', But kentna it cam' frae auld Robbie himsel'! O Robin was mair than a match for her still- The whisky she took, but she left him the _till;_ =He ga'e the weans siller, =An' sent them ben tin her, An' never ance wantit a glass or a gill! An' syne how the bodie would laugh in his sleeve, An' drink without speerin' the wifikie's leave; =It sweetened the drappie, =An' made him sae happy, To think he sae weel could the wifie deceive! =======Alex. Hmart. THE CANTY, COUTHIE CHIEL. GANG hame, ye glunchin' grumblers, gae to your beds and sleep, Till ilk head is like a mummy, or as fozzy as a neep; Or sit glowrin' in the ingle, seeking forms wad fley the diel, But you'll never find the visage o' a canty, couthie chiel; O' a canty, couthie chiel, a canty, couthie chiel, You'll never find the visage o' a canty, couthie chiel. We dinna like the wily loon wha slinks about sae sly, Wi' a sneer for the laigh and a smile for the high; For on his neebour's neck to favours he would speel, He's spurned frae the friendship o' a canty, couthie chiel. We canna thole the foplin thing, vain fashion's tinsel toy, Our boon o' sociality he never can enjoy; Hauding native grace as "vulgar," and freedom "ungenteel," He's look'd and he's lauch'd at by a canty, couthie chiel. But wed me to the lassie kind, wha tries to humour a', She's thrifty in the kitchen, and she's honour'd in the ha'; She can lauch at a bit joke, at a tale o' sorrow feel, She'll mak' a right gude wifie for a canty, couthie chiel. When the toil and the trouble o' the weary day is past, We poker up the ingle, steek the shutters on the blast- Sit down to our bicker, and our scones o' barley meal, And spend the night sae merry, wi' a canty, couthie chiel. =======Alex. A. Ritchie. SPIRIT OF LOVE AND BEAUTY. SPIRIT of Love and Beauty, =That breathest o'er the earth, Where'er thou roamest, lovely flowers =Are springing into birth; The daisy's crimson curtains, =The violet's starry eyes, Are opening up in silent joy =And gazing on the skies. Old Winter flies before thee, =With surly downcast looks, As from his icy barriers =Thou free'st the murmuring brooks The feather'd tribe, from hedge and grove, =Pour forth their grateful lays, And lambkins on a thousand hills, =Are bleating in thy praise! And still to hail thine advent, =Far from the noisy town, The toil-worn artisan goes forth, =Ere health and strength are flown; In the silence of the evening =A lonely hour to pass, Where the gowan peeps wi' modest e'e, =Frae out the dewy grass. Sweet as the precious treasure =Within the honeycomb; And fresh and sparkling as the dews =From morning's fruitful womb; O'er hill and plain thou fliest, =With gladness on thy wing- O, tarry with us yet awhile, =Sweet spirit! gentle Spring. =======William Calder. WIFE O' WILLOWDENHA'. ORIGINAL AIR. THE waefu' Gudewifo o' the Willowdenha =Was ance the beauty an' toast o' the parish; Her daddie had deet and left her his a', =Her uncle had siller, an' she was his heiress- ===Sic comin', an' gangin', ===An' wooin', an' thrangin', ===An' tynin', an' winnin', ===Was ne'er i' your kennin'- =But the laddie that carry't the lassie awa', =Was Johnny Gilfillan o' Willowdenha'! The lassie was bred in a braw borough town, =Whar fouth o' gude manners she learn'd fu' ready; Whar a' the new fashions frae Lon'on come down, =Whar a' the young misses are fine as my lady, ===Wi' ribbons an' ruffles, ===Wi' feathers an' muffles, ===Wi' fringes an' laces, ===An' pearlins an' braces- =Wi' ilka thing bonny, an' ilka thing braw, =She dazzl't the folks o' the Willowdenha'! His daddie was vauntie, his minnie was vain, =They gied to their Johnny the house an' the haudin; An' mickle was gotten, an' plenty was gaun, =For the back an' the belly, the day o' the waddin'- ===Wi' dautin' an' kissin', ===Wi' keekin' an' dreesin', ===Wi' jauntin' an' callin', ===An' rantin' an ballin', =The day slippet ower, an' the nicht flew awa', =An' a' was fu' happy at Willowdenha'! But wae to the wane o' the blythe hinnymoon; =The luve o' the bonny young lady miscarry't; When the daffin was done, she gaed a' out o' tune, =An' she thocht it an unco thing now to be marry't- ===An' thinkin' an' ruein', ===An' wishin' an' trewin', ===An' frettin' an' sighin', ===An' sabbin' an cryin'- =The country was dull, an' the haudin' was sma', =An' sair did she weary o' Willowdenha'! Tho' Johnny was young and had siller fu' rife, =A braw plenish'd house, an' a weel stocket mailin; Yet a' wadna pleasure his gentle gudewife, =An' happiness never wad enter his dwellin'- ===Sae broken an' blearie, ===An' daivert an' dreary, ===An' gloomin' and grievin', ===An' dauntet an' driven- =He sought i' the houff - whar the drouthy loons ca'- =For the peace that had fled far free Willowdenha'! At morning an' evening, at nicht an' at noon, =They wasted, they wair'd, an' they wrangl't wi' ither; Till the siller, the gear, an' the credit gaed done, =An' auld uncle's penny was gien till anither; ===Then waefu' an' wearie, ===An' wilfu' an' eerie- ===Wi' poverty pressin', ===An' a' thing distressin'- =His honour the laird he came in wi' the law, =An' roupet the haudin' o' Willowdenha'! =======Alex. Laing. THE FLOWER O' DONSIDE. AIR - _The lass wi' the bonny blue e'en._ OH! ken ye sweet Chirsty, the Flower o' Donside, She's fair as the morning, and modest beside; Sae sweet and sae sylphlike - the delicate flower Is like her soft beauty, in summer's fair hour. When the dim mists o' eve curtain Don's pleasant vale, I'll pour in her chaste ear my love-burthen'd tale; As we stray by the river's soft silvery tide I'll fondly caress the sweet Flower o' Donside! ===Oh! ken ye sweet Chirsty, &c. There are moments of bliss, when we feel the pure joy And transport of loving, without grief's alloy, Such moments as brighten sad life's weary way, When o'er the brown heath - flower at gloaming I stray, And the light arm that links in my own makes me feel A thrill of delight, which I cannot reveal- May Heaven grant me this, whate'er else may betide, To twine with my fate the sweat Flower o' Donside. ===Oh! ken ye sweet Chirsty, &c. =======Achie Matsow. OH! WHY LEFT I MY HAME? OH! why left I my hame? Why did I cross the deep? Oh! why left I the land Where my forefathers sleep? I sigh for Scotia's shore, And I gaze across the sea, But I canna get a blink O' my ain countrie. The palm-tree waveth high, And fair the myrtle springs, And to the Indian maid The bulbul sweetly sings; But I dinna see the broom, Wi' its tassels on the lea, Nor hear the lintie's sang O' my ain countrie. Oh! here, no sabbath bell Awakes the sabbath morn; Nor song of reapers heard Amang the yellow corn; For the tyrant's voice is here, And the wail of slavery; But the sun of freedom shines In my ain countrie. There's a hope for every woe, And a balm for every pain, But the first joys of our heart Come never back again. There's a track upon the deep, And a path across the sea, But the weary ne'er return To their ain countrie. ========Rob. Gilfillan. THE SONG OF THE DANISH SEA-KING. OUR bark is on the waters deep, our bright blade's in our hand, Our birthright is the ocean vast - we scorn the girdled land; And the hollow wind is our music brave, and none can bolder be Than the hoarse-tongued tempest, raving o'er a proud and swelling sea! Our bark is dancing on the waves, its tall masts quivering bend Before the gale, which hails us now with the hollo of a friend; And its prow is sheering merrily the upcurled billow's foam, While our hearts, with throbbing gladness, cheer old Ocean as our home! Our eagle-wings of might we stretch before the gallant wind, And we leave the tame and sluggish earth a dim mean speck behind; We shoot into the untrack'd deep, as earth-freed spirits soar, Like stars of fire through boundless space-through realms without a shore! Lords of this wide-spread wilderness of waters, we bound free, The haughty elements alone dispute our sovereignty; No landmark doth our freedom let, for no law of man can mete The sky which arches o'er our head-the waves whioh kiss our feet! Thy warrior of the land may back the wild horse, in his pride; But a fiercer steed we dauntless breast-the untam'd ocean tide; And a nobler tilt our bark careers, as it quells the saucy wave, While the Herald storm peals o'er the deep the glories of the brave. Hurrah! hurrah! the wind is up-it bloweth fresh and free, And every cord, instinct with life, pipes loud its fearless glee; Big swell the bosom'd sails with joy, and they madly kiss the spray, As proudly through the foaming surge the Sea-King bears away! =======William Motherwell. JEANIE'S GRAVE. I SAW my true Love first on the banks of queenly Tay, Nor did I deem it yielding my trembling heart away; I feasted on her deep dark eye, and loved it more and more, For, oh! I thought I ne'er had seen a look so kind before! I heard my true love sing, and she taught me many a strain, But a voice so sweet, oh! never, shall my cold ear hear again. In all our friendless wanderings-in homeless penury- Her gentle song and jetty eye, were all unchanged to me. I saw my true Love fade-I heard her latest sigh- I wept no friv'lous weeping when I closed her lightless eye; Far from her native Tay she sleeps, and other waters lave The markless spot where Ury creeps around my Jeanie's grave. Move noiseless, gentle Ury! around my Jeanie's bed, And I'll love thee, gentle Ury! wherv'er my footsteps tread; For sooner shall thy fairy wave return from yonder sea, Than I forget yon lowly grave, and all it hides from me. =======William Thom. MAY MORNING SONG. ARISE, fair maids, the east grows bright, The ocean heaves in lines of light, The earth is green, the lift is blue, Arise, fair maids, and gather dew;- 'Tis May morning, as you must know, When merry merry maids a-Maying go, =A-Maying go, a-Maying go; When merry merry maids a-Maying go. There's Marjory mild, and Marion meek, And bonny Bell with her dimpling cheek; There's Grace the gay can love inspire, And 'Liza, too, with the lily lyre, And Fan and Nan, in gleesome row, All merry merry maids a-Maying go, =A-Maying go, &c. There's simple Ciss so soft and sweet, And Mary mild with her milk-white feet, There's Judith trig, and Janet trim, And Madeline with her waist so slim; There's Sall, and Mall, and all, heigho All merry merry maids a-Maying go. =A-Maying go, &c. There's Jill, and Jen, and jinking Jean, And winsome Win, they skiff the green, There's blythe yonng Bess with her locks so brown, And kindly Kate from the borough town, There's Sue, and Prue, and many moe, All merry merry maids a-Maying go, =A-Maying go, &c. Then away, fair maids, in the dawning's prime, Away and gather the dews in time, Ev'n so shall your roses bloom more bright, Your eye reflect more heavenly light; 'Tis May morning, as all do know, When merry merry maids a-Maying go, =A-Maying go, a-Maying go; When merry merry maids a-Maying go. =======James Telfer. HAPPY THE HEARTS. Happy the hearts that did not beat =In the gloomy old guard room, Where many a weeping maid and wife =Bewailed a hopeless doom. There fast, fast, fell my own hot tears, =When they told me I must stay, With a breaking heart, in a homeless land. =And my true love far away. The route came to our warlike camp; =I sought our chieftain's hall, I found the proud one, and before =His dark stern face did fall:- "O! part not me and mine!" I cried; =But coldly answered he- "Weeper, away! we may not take ="Such silly things as thee." The marching hour, it came at last, =How gaily their banners flew; Loud roll'd the mighty thundering drum, =And wild the bugles blew; Whilst thousands to their windows rush'd =The stirring sight to see, Shouting "Success to Briton's arms!" =O! mournful sounds for me! Loud shouted still the multitude, =As played the merry band, Until they reached the strong war ship =Beside the stormy strand; There, then, amidst their ranks I rush'd, =My last farewell to take, To kiss his manly cheek, and breathe =A prayer for his dear sake. How close unto his heart I clung! =How much I had to say! When loud amidst the mustering ranks, =The bugles sung, "Away!" And away they bore him - O! my soul! =That long, that farewell cheer, Rung like the knell of a thousand deaths =Deep in my startled ear. I saw no more-I felt no more =For one long day and night; Till, waking from a dreadful dream =Of death and cruel fight, I called on him I loved to hear; =But he I loved was gone,- And I a wretched mourner was, =In tears, and all alone. =======A. Machlaggan. WHEN THE BEE HAS LEFT THE BLOSSOM. ORIGINAL AIR. WHEN the bee has left the blossom, =And the lark has closed his lay, And the daisy folds its bosom =In the dews of gleaming grey; When the virgin rose is bending, =Wet with evening's pensive tear, And the purple light is blending =With the soft moon rising clear; Meet me then, my own true maiden, =Where the wild flowers shed their bloom, And the air, with fragrance laden, =Breathes around a rich perfume. With my true love as I wander, =Captive led by beauty's power, Thoughts and feelings sweet and tender =Hallow that delightful hour. Give ambition dreams of glory, =Give the poet laurell'd fame, Let renown in song and story =Consecrate the hero's name. Give the great their pomp and pleasure, =Give the courtier place and power- Give to me my bosom's treasure, =And the lonely gloaming hour. =======Alex Smart. DAFT DAYS. "THE midnight hour is clinking, lads, An' the douce an' the decent are winking, lads, =Sae I tell you again, =Be't weel or ill ta en, It's time ye were quatting your drinking, lads." "Gae ben an' mind yonr gantry, Kate, Gie's mair o' your beer, an' less bantry, Kate; =For we vow whar we sit, =That afore we shall flit, We'll be better acquant wi' your pantry, Kate. "The daft days are but beginning, Kate, An' we've sworn (wad ye ha'e us be sinning, Kate?) =By our faith an' our houp, =We shall stick by the stoup As lang as a barrel keeps rinning, Kate. "Through spring an' through simmer we moil it, Kate, Through hay an' through harvest we toil it, Kate; =Sae ye ken, whan the wheel =Is beginning to squeal, It's time for to grease or to oil it, Kate. "Then score us anither drappy, Kate, An' gi'e us a cake to our cappy, Kate; =For, by spigot an' pin, =It were mair than a sin To flit when we're sitting sae happy, Kate." =======Hui Ainslie. IT SPEAKS TO MY SPIRIT. IT speaks to my spirit the Voice of the Past, =As I listlessly move on my way; And pleasures, that were far too pleasant to last, =Shine again, as they did in their day. In an isle of the West, there's a tangled retreat, =Which the sweet sun looks bashfully on, And my soul has flown thither, in secret to meet =With the feelings of years that are gone. Across the bread meadow, and down the green lane, =I have sped on the light foot of love, And I stand, as I stood long ago, once again, =By the old mossy seat in the grove. Ah! yonder's the oak-tree, and under its shade =One with looks full of welcome I see; Yes - yes - 'tis my Ellen, in beauty arrayed, =As she was, when she first met with me. Remembrance is rapture-nay, smile if you please, =While you point to my thin locks of gray, Yet think not a heart, with emotions like these, =Ever knows what it is to decay. The furrow lies deep in my time - stricken cheek, =And the life-blood rolls languidly on, But the Voice of the Past has not yet ceased to speak =With the feelings of years that are gone. =======Will. Kennedy. I ANCE WAS IN LOVE. I ANCE was in love - maybe no lang ago- =And I lo'ed ae sweet lassie most dearly; I sought her wee hand, but her daddy growl'd "no!" =Which stung my young heart most severely. For he, wealthy wight, was an auld crabbit carl, Wha held fast the grip he had got o' the warl'; So the poor plackless laddie got nought but a snarl. ===For lo'eing the lassie sincerely. But love wadna hide, and the lassie lo'ed me, =And oh! her black een tauld it clearly, That she'd tak' and wed me without a bawbee. =Although she had twa hundred yearly. So ae winter night, when her dad was asleep. And the wind made the doors a' to rattle and cheep, Frae out the back window she made a bit leap. ===And my arms kepp'd the prize I lo'ed dearly. Auld GRIPSICCAR wasna to haud nor to bin', =He tint a' his wee judgment nearly; He stormed, he rampaged, he ran out, he ran in, =And he vowed we should pay for it dearly; But time wrought a change when he saw his first _oe_, Nae langer was heard then, the growl, and the "no!" Our house now is Gripsiccar, Goodsir, & Co., ===While our labours are prospering yearly. =======Alex Rodger. O LEEZE ME ON THEE, TIDY WIFIE. O LEEZE me on thee, tidy wifie, canty wifie, couthie wifie, =Thou'rt the charm that binds me still ==To life and a' the cares that's in't; Never sighin', aye sae merry, aye sae winsome, aye sae lifie, =Thy laughin' heart is free frae ill, ==And far thou leav'st a' cares ahint. O lucky day when first I saw thee sittin' singin' at the cow, =The blude a' swater't through my heart, ==And I forgat to gang, I wat; And when I cam' and spak' a while, and wad hae preed your bonny mou', =And swore ye war a bit divert, ==Right weel I mind the skelp I gat. ====O leeze me, &c. They tell'd me how ye sune wad change, and sune wad turn baith douf and douce, =(But oh, the fules! they little kenn'd ==The leal, the kindly heartie o't,) That ye wad sune forget your claes, and be a sackless slut and sour; =Instead o' that ye darn and mend, ==And ne'er an inch unseemly o't. ====O leeze me, &c. We now hae tried it mony a day, and still thy heart is light and free, =On ilka heart that's seen warld's waes ==The balm o' kindness pourin' yet, Care whiles keeks by our hallan cheek, and gi'es a canker'd glower at me, =But when he sees thy happy face, ==It sets him aff a stourin' yet. ====O leeze me, &c. =======Wm. Linny. THEY SPEAK O' WYLES. AIR - "_Gin a bodie meet a bodie._" THEY speak o' wyles in woman's smiles, =An' ruin in her e'e- I ken they bring a pang at whiles =That's unco sair to dree; But mind ye this, the half-ta'en kiss, =The first fond fa'in' tear, Is, heaven kens, fu' sweet amen's, =An' tints o' heaven here. When twa leal hearts in fondness meet, =Life's tempests howl in vain- The very tears o' love are sweet =When paid with tears again. Shall sapless prudence shake its pow, =Shall cauldrife caution fear, An' drown that lowe, that livin' lowe, =That lights a heaven here? What tho' we're ca'd a wee before =The stale "three score an' ten:' When "Joy" keeks kindly at your door, =Aye bid her welcome ben. About yon blissfu' bowers above =Let doubtfu' mortals speir, Sae weel ken we that "Heaven is love," =Since love makee Heaven here. =======William Thom. THE LOVELY LASS OF INVERKIP. O'ER Cowal hills the sinking sun =Was bidding Clutha's vale guid-day, And, from his gorgeous golden throne, =Was shedding evening's mildest ray, As round the Cloch I bent my way, =With buoyant heart and bounding skip, To meet my lass, at gleaming grey, =Amang the shaws of Inverkip. We met - and what an eve of bliss! =A richer, sweeter, never flew, With mutual vow, with melting kiss, =And ardent throb of bosoms true:- The bees, 'mid flowers of freshest hue, =Would cease their honeyed sweets to sip, It they her soft sweet lips but knew- =The lovely lass of Inverkip. Her ebon locks, her hazel eye, =Her placid brow, so fair and meek, Her artless smile, her balmy sigh, =Her bonnie, blushing, modest cheek- All these a stainless mind bespeak, =As pure as is the lily's tip; Then, O, may sorrow's breath so bleak =Ne'er blight my Bud of Inverkip. =======Alex. Rodger. A HIGHLAND MOTHER'S LAMENT. OCH! you hafe left us a', =You're teat's a stone now, Dannie; Ta cauld toor's on your heat, =In ta krafe wi' your krannie. ===Och! ish O! Och! ish O! ====Sair's ta heart o' your mither, ===She would not be so fex ====Hat you left put a prither. Och! prawlie she'll hae mint =Whan ye'll ran 'mang ta heather, Ant ta kyes ant ta sheeps =Ye'll prought hame to your mither. ===Och! ish O! &c. Ant no more will you play ="Gillie Callie" at ta wattin, Or Shuke Corton's strathspey, =From ta kreen to ta pettin. ===Och! ish O! &c. Yesh! you nefer sait a swear, =Or a cursh to your mither; Ant you ne'er lift your han' =All your tays to your father. ===Och! ish O! &c. Your skin was white's a milk; =Your hair was fine's a moutie; Your preath was sweeter far =Than smell of putter't croutie. ===Och! ish O! &c. Put och! noo you are teat- =Nefer more will she sawt you; Ta cauld toor's on your heat- =Your mither's tarlin' dawtie. ===Och! ish O! &c. =======John Stewart. I SAID I LOVED THE TOWN. I SAID I loved the town-and I felt the tale was true- Beyond the spreading lawn, with its daisies dipt in dew; For I never sought the breezy hill, the woodlands, or the plain, But my heart with rapture bounded to the busy town again. I said I loved the town-and I thought the tale was true, Till Jessie thence had gone, then my fancy flitted too; The spell dissolved, like boyhood's bliss before the eye of age, As fades before the glare of day the tinsel of the stage. I said I loved the town-but I doubted if 'twas true, Yet felt ashamed to own the longing strange and new, That sighed for rural landscapes in all their varied dyes, Exulting in the golden gleam of sunny summer skies! I said I hate the town-and, alas! the tale was true, Its only charm had flown when Jessie's smile withdrew; Oh! I could love the bleakeet spot on yonder mountain bare, Beyond all else, if Jessie's eye were beaming on me there! =======E. Conally. THE MOON SHONE CALMLY BRIGHT. THE moon shone calmly bright =Upon the slumb'ring scene, Ten thousand stars shone out that night, =Around their placid queen; A ship hath left the shore,- =Where shall that good ship be, Ere fill the moon one bright horn more?- =Deep-deep in the booming sea. "Hark!-heard ye not, but now, =A wild unearthly cry," They ask with troubled breast and brow, =And startled ear and eye- "Was't the water-spirit's shriek? =What may that boding be?" And a moment blanch'd the brownest check, =On the deep and booming sea. "What fear? - the breeze to-night =Can scaroe a ripple wake, And slow moves our ship with her wings of white, =Like a swan o'er a moonlit lake!" Ah! little dreamt they then =The change so soon to be, And arose the songs of jovial men =On the deep and booming sea! 'Tis morn - but such a morn =May bark ne'er brave again, Through vaulting billows-tempest - torn, =Toils the seeling ship in vain! The waves are hushed and blue, =But where-oh! where is she, The good ship with her gallant crew? =Deep-down in the booming sea! =======John Julahny. O COME AWA', JEANIE. _Music by Peter M'Leod, Esq._ O COME awa', Jeanie, and hearken to me, Wi' the sweet winning smile o' your daddie's blithe e'e; I'll gi'e an advice o' the best I can gi'e, Sae sit ye down, daughter, and listen to me. O Jean, bide awa' frae that son o' the laird's, Things sacred and virtuous he naething regards; It is no for aught your auld minnie can name, That he sees ye, an' e'es ye, an' follows ye hame. Now sit ye down, Jeanie, and hearken to me, Wi' your daddie's brent brow and your daddie's dark e'e, I'll gi'e ye an advice o' the best I can gi'e, Sae sit ye down, daughter, and listen to me. There's douce Johnny Lowrie, the minister's man, But his graces and face is a wee thing owre lang, He woo'd and beguiled a young maiden before, O gi'e Johnny Lowrie the back o' the door. But sit ye down, Jeanie, and hearken to me, Your minnie can see what her bairn canna see; I'll gi'e my advice, and it's a' I can gi'e, Sae sit ye down, daughter, and listen to me. There's young Hughy Graham o' the Windlestrae dell, He's blooming, and guileless, and gude, like yersell; The Laird and John Lowrie can court ye mair free, Without the pure lowe o' his kind loving e'e. =======G. M. Nenrfe. A' WEAR THE MASKS. AIR - "_Whistle o'er the lave o't._" WILL SHAKESPEARE, in his witty page, Declares that "all the world's a stage," And we as players a' engage, =To-whistle owre the lave o't. The Priest humility will teach- To poverty contentment preach- Place rank and wealth within his reach, =He-whistles owre the lave o't. The Doctor, wi' his drap and pill, May, as it happens, cure or kill; If he contrive his pouch to fill, =He'll whistle o'er the lave o't. The learned Lawyer pawkilie, In gown and wig, will press your plea: But, win or lose, has fobb'd his fee, =Sae-whistles owre the lave o't. The Actor, he "plays mony a part," Wi' comic shrug, or tragic start, To glee, or grief, he bends the heart, =And-whistles owre the lave o't. The Fiddler, wi' his magic bow, O'er mortals, too, his spell can throw; He screws his pegs to joy or woe, =Syne whistles owre the lave o't. The Landlord, wi' his beer sae sma', Nae final reckoning fears ava; Instead o' ane he'll score you twa, =Then-whistle owre the lave o't. The Soldier, though he drills a' day, And right and left maun face away, At night makes merry wi' his pay, =And-whistles owre the lave o't. The Gangrel, on his timmer pegs, Wha, through the day, for awmous begs At night will dance on twa gude legs, =And-whistle owre the lave o't. In human life, we thus may see, A' wear the mask in some degree; This ane will cheat, that ither lee, =A' whistle owre the lave o't. =======Charles Gray. THE WEE WEE FLOWER. _Air by Peter M'Leod, Esq._ THE wee wee flower, the wee wee flower, Shrinks frae the droukin midnight shower, =But opes its leaves in sunny hour- =Slee type o' life-the wee wee flower. The wee wee flower begins to blaw When early draps o' spring dews fa', =But snell April aft gars it cour- =Ah! silly thing, the wee wee flower. When opening buds a' lang for light, The wee flower peeps wi' gowd-e'e'd sight; =An', O! it's Nature's richest dower =To deck ance mair the wee wee flower. When elfin fairies trip the green, Wi' dew-stars blobbin in their e'en, =They lay them down, a' happit owre, =A' nestling in the wee wee flower. The wee flower deck's nae garden gay, But blooms in neuks that's far away; =It canna stand ae wild e'e's glower- =Ah! blate young thing, the wee wee flower. 'Mang trees the wee flower rears its stem, Cheer'd by the juice that nurtures them; =Yet a' it tak's, ne'er stints their power- =It lives on love, the wee wee flower. But O! the wee flower dwines an' dees, When nither'd by the norland breeze; =As Passion plucks frae Nature's bower, =An' leaves to dee, the wee wee flower. =======James Ballantine. THE ROUGH KISS. O! WOMAN'S wit, O! woman's wiles- =I would that I were free- Far frae the magic o' your smiles, =Your winning witchery:- Yet, did I vow the fair to flee, =Their favours sweet to scorn, I meikle doubt that I should die =A sinner sair foresworn. Yestreen the new hairst-moon rose bright, =And ilka star, that beamed In beauty on the brow o' night, =An angel's spirit seemed. My weary naigs were fed, and clean, =Safe hame were kye and sheep; Thick cam' my nightly thoughts o' Jean, =Till I fell sound asleep. And syne I dreamed-as fools will dream- =O' wandering near a bower, Beside a merry chaunting stream, =Wi' green banks a' in flower. There, fairer far than bowers or brooks, =Or flowers in summer sheen, In ane o' Nature's rosy nooks, =I met my true-love Jean. A herdin' crook held ae white han', =A silken leash the ither, Wi' whilk she led, frae upland lawn, =A wee lamb and its mither. How could my heart be passion-proof =When love brought us thegither ?- The sunny sky our chamber roof, =Our couch the balmy heather. Then - as I breathed my love - my sighs, =My words grew warmer, dearer; And, somehow, 'tween her kind replies, =We nearer crept, and nearer. But when I preed her mou', to prove =The raptures o' my faith, I thought the loupin' throes o' love =And joy had been my death. Alas! soon fled the vision sweet, =The joys o' each embrace, And I awoke, methought so meet =Auld Satan face to face: My rosy bed, beside the brook, =Proved but a couch o' thorns; And high, instead o' Jeanie's crook, =Towered twa lang crooked horns! And close, instead o' Jeanie's waist, =For beauty's model meet, I faund my twining arms embraced =Twa cloddy, cloven feet! And what I deem'd the sweets that sprung =Frae Jeanie's honey mou', Were lappings frae the lang rough tongue =O' auld Tam Tamson's cow! =======A MacLaggan. THE BONNIE KEEL LADDIE. THE bonnie keel laddie, the cannie keel laddie, =The bonnie keel laddie for me, O! He plies at his wark, in his blue woollen sark, =An' he brings the white money tiv me, O! Throughout the hail raw, he's the nicest iv a', =An' sey sharp is the glance iv his e'e, O! Sey tight an' sey toppin', sey smart ay an strappin'- =Ah! dearly he's welcome tiv me, O! Frev his hat tiv his showe-when he's dressed braw an' new- =He's gentility's sel' tiv a tee, O! His hue is sey bonnie, there's nane like my Johnny =Owre a' the wide warld, tiv me, O! The cannie keel laddie, the bonnie keel laddie, =The cannie keel laddie for me, O! My heart aye loups leet, when he comes hame at neet, =Tiv his cozie hearth-stone, an' tiv me, O! =======Robert. White. SHEAN M'NAB. AIR - "_Lord Balgonie's Favourite._" OF Shean M'Nab she'll want to sing, Ant all to ponny flowers of Spring, To make compare wi' Shean, she'll pring; =My tearest! sweetest Shean M'Nab! Ta primrose, in ta tew of morn, Ta woots ant mossy panks storn; Put not a primrose e'er was porn =Is half so sweet as Shean M'Nab! You'll surely hafe ta flolet seen! Se motest hite from kazers' e'en! Ant plushing sweet, shust like my Shean, =My ponny, pretty Shean M'Nab. Gran' is ta smell come from ta rose, Ponny's ta pud she early shows, Her plooming colour sweetly blows =Upon ta sheek of Shean M'Nab. Ta lily is poth sweet ant fair, Naething can wi' her compare; Put shust ta posom of my tear, =My ponny, pretty Shean M'Nab. Melting sweat's her tark plue e'e, Like hare-pell on ta sunny lea, Ant, och! ta plink is tear to me, =Ta klance of ponny Shean M'Nab. Her preath's more sweet as meatow hay, Or frakrant will thyme's flower in May, Och! she could lif for efer aye =Upon ta lips of Shean M'Nab. Shean's tall ant stately as ta pine, Her form is kraceful, most tifine; All other maitens she'll outshine, =My ponny, pretty Shean M'Nab. Happy to pe, she coult not fail, If nainsel' coult on Shean prefail To shange her name to Shean M'Phail, =Ant nefer more pa Shean N'Nab. =======Allan Fisher. NO SEASON THIS FOR GLOOMING, No season this for glooming, =No season this for sorrow, The blithe old earth is blooming, Sweet flowers the air perfuming, =And birds sing loud, "good morrow!" Lo! where the clouds are breaking, =And, from their fleecy bosoms, The jovial sun awaking, His morning draught partaking- =The dew that gems the blossoms! Then let old Care go slumber, =While here, with blue-eyed Pleasure, Devoid of thought or cumber, As time's hours slowly number, =We dance a jocund measure! =======W. Ferguson. O FOR THE MERRY MOONLIGHT HOUR! O FOR the merry moonlight hour! =O for the hearts that warmest glow! O for the breath of the summer flower, =Far floating in the vale below! Hail to the clime where Beauty's power =Is stamped on every plant and tree; Joy's rosy throne - Love's wedding bower- =Land of our choice, fair Italy! O for the dance!-the dance at even!- =Woman's smile is loveliest then;- O for the notes which came from Heaven, =Which came-but ne'er returned again. Blessed be these notes! they long have striven =To keep the young heart warm and free; And never was boon to mortals given, =Like the song of fervid Italy. O for the morn! the glorious morn! =When souls were proud, and hopes were high, Ere the Eagle's fiery plume was torn, =Or his course grew dark in the western sky. That wild bird's wing is shrunk and shorn, =Yet our empire winds from sea to sea; Fame's wandering torch o'er earth is borne, =Love's, shines alone for Italy! Then hail to the merry moonlight hour! =And joy to the hearts that warmest glow! Ever bright be the bloom of the summer flower, =And sweet its breath in the vale below! And lone may our maidens' evening bower =Echo the song of the gay and free; And long may Beauty's dazzling power =Reign over blooming Italy! =======Will. Kennedy. THEN MOUNT THE TACKLE AND THE REEL. OUR sport is with the salmon rod, =Fine gut, tough ravel string, A hook of the true "Kirkby bend," =Dark-bodied with white wing; Dark-bodied with white wing, my boys! =A yellow bob behind, And deep red hackle, fastened round =With tinsel well entwined. ===Then mount the tackle and the reel, ====Is now the fisher's song, ===For Bringham Dub and Carham Wheel ====Hold many a salmon strong. A south-west wind that steady blows, =A dark grey cloudy sky, A ripple o'er the water clear, =To lead away the fly; To lead away the fly, my boys! =There strike! the reel goes free! With a new run fish, as fresh and strong =As ever left the sea. ====Then mount, &c. The yielding rod bends like a bow, =And lifts him from his hold, With quivering pull, and bounding leap, =Or steady run so bold; The steady run so bold, my boys! =As through the stream he flies, Tells with what energy he fights =Before a salmon dies. ====Then mount, &c. Reel up, reel up! one sullen plunge, =He takes out line no more, Head down the stream! then haul him in! =He gasps upon the shore; He gasps upon the shore, my boys! =His weight an English stone, As beautiful a thing in death =As eye o'er gazed upon. ====Then mount, &c. The sport is o'er! and home we go, =A bumper round we bear, And drink "The face we never saw, =But may it prove as fair!" But may it prove as fair! my boys, =Each fisher drinks with glee, And benisons to-morrow's sport, =That it may better be. ====Then mount, &c. =======Mr A. Foster. THE FLOWER O' THE AYR. I WALK'D out yestreen, when the e'enin' was fa'in', =A lingering glory yet played on the sea, The woods were sae still, no a zephyr was blawin, =The sang o' the lav'rock was hushed on the lea. Awa' frae the town, wi' its din and its folly, =I kent na, and cared na, how far I had gane, The night was sae peacefu', the hour was sae holy, =The spirit o' nature and I were alane. I thought on the days when I stray'd wi' my Jessie, =While birds lilted sweat on the banks of the Ayr, When Hope's fairy visions were shared wi' my lassie, =And life was as happy as simmer was fair. Sad was my heart, for again I was roamin' =Through scenes that were dear in the days o' langsyne, And Mem'ry flew back to the still simmer gloamin', =When, prest to my bosom, she vowed to be mine. There was the burnie yet, fring'd with the breckan; =There was the bank where she sat on my knee; There was the birken bower, sad and forsaken, =Where aft she had lookit sae fondly on me; But where is my lassie, O where is my Jessie? =Ah! cruel echoes, ye mock my despair; Nor sunshine may cheer me nor tempests can fear me- =Oh, soon may I lie wi' the Flower o' the Ayr. =======Thomas C. Latte. GLENORCHY. O WILD singing spirit of Glenorchy's lone vale, Why ceased is thy music, why gone is thy tale? Has thy bard sunk to slumber with those who are gone, That I hear not his harp, with its heart-stirring tone? Round the towers of Kilchurn thy murmur sweeps low, But 'tis lost in the lake of Glenorchy's loud flow; Thy name and existence they flit fast away, And thy bard and his numbers have gone to decay! Has no minstrel e'er given thy praises to fame? Are thy scenes doom'd to die, like thy perishing name? Are those haunts doom'd to fade, lake the quick-passing flower That blooms into beauty and dies in an hour? From thy cloud on the mountain I hear thee reply:- "Many bards have I had in the ages gone by; But the Sassenach loved not our wild Highland strain, And the Gael'e native music was wasted in vain!" But yet on thy lonely braes, thrilling afar The soft notes of love, and the loud tone, of war, By thy shepherd, awaken'd, may still these be heard, Re-echoing sweetly the tones of thy bard. And often, when o'es Ben Cruachan in light The moon sheds her silvery rays on the night, She sees her attendant stars shine in the deep Of thy long inland waters, as softly they sleep. And else hears throngh the silence of ages gone past, The echoes of harps chiming lone on the blast; They speak of the glory that's faded away, And mournful's the sound of their lingering lay! When the thick falling dews seem'd to swell the bright stream, And the waterfall tinkled beneath the moonbeam, When the long summer nights seemed still longer to stay, And the glory of evening was brighter than day. Then the fairies in splendid array would advance, As they glided along in their wild mystic dance, And the music of spirits by mortals unseen Sounded sweet with their mirth as they danced on the green. But the music has ceased, and the fairies are gone, And the scene only mourns in its beauty alone; Neglect with her shadow now closes it o'er, And the haunts once so loved will be cherish'd no more! =======Thos. Young. SANDYFORD HA'. AIR - "_Laird o' Cockpen_." =YE'LL a' get a bidding to Sandyford Ha', =Ye'll a' get a bidding to Sandyford Ha'; =When Summer returns wi' her blossoms sae braw, =Ye'll a' get a bidding to Sandyford Ha'. This dwelling though humble is airy and clean, Wi' a hale hearty wifie baith honest and bien, An' a big room below for the gentry that ca',- Ye'll a' get a bidding to Sandyford Ha'. A wooden stair leads to the attics aboon, Whar ane can look out to his friends in the moon, Or rhyme till saft sleep on his eyelids shall fa',- Ye'll a' get a bidding to Sandyford Ha'. An' when a lang day o' dark care we ha'e closed, An' our heart wi' the bitter ingredient is dozed, We'll puff our Havana, on Hope we will ca', An' our chief guest be Pleasure at Sandyford Ha'. Ye'll no need to ask me to sing you a sang, For the wee thochtless birdies lilt a' the day lang; The lintie, the laverock, the blackbird an' a', Ilk' day ha'e a concert at Sandyford Ha'. There's palace-like mansions at which ye may stare, Where Luxury rolls in her saft easy-chair,- At least puir folks think sae,-their knowledge is sma', There's far mair contentment at Sandyford Ha'. There's something romantic about an auld house, Where the cock ilka morning keeps crawing fu' crouse, An' the kye in the byre are baith sleekit an' braw, An' such is the case at blythe Sandyford Ha'. In the garden we'll sit 'neath the big beechen tree, As the sun dips his bright-burnish'd face in the sea, Till night her grey mantle around us shall draw, Then we'll a' be fu' cantie in Sandyford Ha'. At morning when music is loud in the sky, An' dew, like bright pearls, on roses' lips lie, We'll saunter in joy where the lang shadows fa', 'Mang the sweet-scented groves around Sandyford Ha'. =======Andrew Park. RANTIN' ROBIN, RHYMIN' ROBIN. AIR - "_Dainty Davie._" WHEN Januar winds were ravin' wil' O'er a' the districts o' our isle, There was a callant born in Kyle, =And he was christen'd Robin. Oh Robin was a dainty lad, Rantin' Robin, rhymin' Robin, It made the gossips unco glad =To hear the cheep o' Robin. That ne'er - to - be - forgotten morn, When Coila's darling son was born, Auld Scotland on her stock-an'-horn =Play'd "welcome hame" to Robin. And Robin was the blythest loon, Rantin' Robin, rhymin' Robin, That ever sang beneath the moon,- =We'll a' be proud o' Robin. Fame stappin in ayont the hearth,- Cried, "I foresee your matchless worth, And to the utmost ends o' earth =I'll be your herald, Robin!" And well she did emblaze his name, Rantin' Robin, rhymin' Robin, In characters o' livin' flame,- =We'll a' be proud o Robin. The Muses round his cradle hung, The Graces wat his infant tongue, And Independence wi' a rung, =Cried - "Redd the gate for Robin!" For Robin's soul-arousing tones, Rantin' Robin, rhymin' Robin, Gar'd tyrants tremble on their thrones,- =We'll a' be proud o' Robin! Then let's devote this night to mirth, And celebrate our Poet's birth; While Freedom preaches i' the earth, =She'll tak' her text frae Robin! Oh! Robin's magic notes shall ring, Rantin' Robin, rhymin' Robin, While rivers run and flowerets spring, =Huzza! huzza for Robin!! =======David Nedder. PEGGY PENN. A CUMBERLAND BALLAD. AIR - "_The Barley Bree._" THE muin shone breet, the tudder neet: =The kye wer milkt; aw wark was duin; I shavet mysel', an' cwomt my hair, =Flang aff the clogs, pat on greas'd shoon: The clock strack eight, as out I stule, =The rwoad I tuik reet weel I ken, An' crosst the watter, clam the hill, =In whopes to meet wi' Peggy Penn. When i' the wood, I heard two talk, =They cutter't on, but rather low; I hid mysel' ahint a yek, =An' Peggy wid a chap suin saw: He smackt her lips; she cried, "Give owre! =We lasses aw are pleag't wi' men!" I tremlin' stuid, but dursen't speak, =Tho' fain I'd coddelt Peggy Penn! He cawt her Marget, sometimes Miss, =He spak' queyte feyne, an' kisst her han'; He braggt ov aw his fadder hed- =I seeght; for we've nae house or lan'! Said he, "My dear, I've seen you oft, =An' watch'd you link thro' wood an' glen, With one George Moor, a rustle boor, =Not fit to wait on sweet Miss Penn!" She drew her han', an' turnt her roun', ="Let's hae nae mair sic talk!" says she, "Tho' Gwordie Muir be nobbet puir, =He's dearer nor a prince to me! Mey fadder scauls, mworn, nuin, an' neet, =Mey mudder fratches sair; what then?- Aw this warl's gear cud niver buy =Frae Gworge the luve ov Peggy Penn!" "O, Miss'" says he, "forget such fools, =Nor heed the awkward, stupid clown; If such a creature spoke to me, =I'd quickly knock the booby down!" "Come on!" says I, "thy strenth e'en try =Suin heed owre heels sic tulls I'd sen'; Lug off thy cwoat, I'll feght aw neeght =Wi' three leyke thee for Peggy Penn!" Now off he flew; mey airms I threw =About her waist; away we went; I axt her if she durst be meyne; =She squeezt my han' an' gev consent: We talkt, an' jwokt, as lovers sud, =We partet at their awn byre en', An' ere anudder month be owre, =She'll change to Muir frae Peggy Penn! =======Robert Anderson. JEAN MUNRO. AIR - "_Jock o' Hazledean._" O HAE ye seen the lily fair, wak'd by the morning beam, Bending its head sae modestly aboon the bickering stream; Or hae ye seen the e'ening star at gloaming brightly glow- Then hae ye seen the fairy form o' bonnie Jean Munro. Her cheek is like the mellow fruit, just dropping frae the tree, And there's a silent witch'ry in the twinkle o' her e'e; And frae her brent and polished brow, her glossy ringlets flow. That clust'ring shade the snaw-white breast o' bonny Jean Munro. The miser who exultingly looks on his glittering store, And feels, throughout his frozen veins, a thrill of transport pour, The rushing tide of happiness he would at once forego, For ae kiss o' the balmy lips o' bonnie Jean Munro. Care hath his furrows deeply set upon my altered cheek, And wintry Time blawn o'er my head his blasts baith cauld and bleak; But could I to my cheek restore Youth's gladsome ruddy glow, Blythe would I be life's path to tread wi' bonnie Jean Munro. =======Wm. Finley. POLLY CUSHANE. O! PROTESTANT BILLY was handsome and tall, His shoulders were broad, and his ankles were small; There was not in our country so frisky a blade, And by nature he was a true jintleman made. And a waltin' the Gallachers many times got, When they offered to tramp on the tails of his coat; But yet this bould rover got bound in love's chain, And kilt by the blue eyes of Polly Cushane. At her father's fireside, for a long winter's night, To talk wid his Polly was all his delight- And there they kept titterin' and botherin' still, Till the grey eye of morning peep'd over the hill. Billy's bosom with love was burning and dry, For all that it drank from each glance of her eye, Which glisten'd and laugh'd like the flower after rain- "Och! your'e fresher and fairer, my Polly Cushane." Wid a slap on his cheek, she smiling would say, "'Tis late now, you rogue, so be off and away;" Then Billy replies, "Faith, my darlint, that's thrue- But how can I sleep, for a dhraming of you." "Go-spalpeen!" her ould father bawls in a rage; Then Polly would pant like a bird in a cage, While Protestant Bill kiss'd her red lips again,- "Good night and good luck, my sweet Polly Cushane," =======Alex. A. Ritcha. AULD EPPIE. AULD Eppie, puir bodie, she wons on the brae, In you little cot-house, aneath the auld tree; Far off frae a' ithers, an' fu', fu' o' flaws, Wi' rough divot sunks haudin' up the mud wa's; The storm-tatter'd riggin', a' row'd here an' there, An' the reekit lum-framin', a' broken an' bare, The lang raggit eaves hangin' down the laigh door, An' a'e wee bit winnock, amaist happit ower; The green boor-tree bushes a' wavin' aroun', An' grey siller willow-wands kissin' the grun'! "Auld Eppie's a weird-wife," sae runs the rude tale, For a'e nicht some chiels comin' hame frae their ale Cam' in by her biggin', an', watchin' apart, They saw Eppie turnin' the beuk o' black art; An' O! - the douff soun's and the _uncos_ that fell, Nae livin' cou'd think o',nae language cou'd tell. Nae body leuk's near her, unless it may be Whan cloudie nicht closes the day's darin' e'e, That some, wi' rewards an' assurance, slip ben, The weels an' the waes o' the future to ken! Auld Eppie's nae spaewife, tho' she gets the name; She's wae for hersel', but she's wae'er for them; For tho' ne'er a frien'ly foot enters her door, She is blest wi' a frien' in the Friend o' the Poor. Her comfort she draws frae the VOLUME O' LIGHT, An' aye reads a portion o't mornin' an' nicht- In a' crooks an' crosses she calmly obeys, E'en seasons o' sorrow are seasons o' praise; She opens an' closes the day on her knee- That's a' the strange sicht onie bodie can see. =======Alex. Laing. ON A SWEET LOVELT ISLE. ON a sweet lovely isle, in some calm peaceful sea, 'Mid the billows at rest, thy fair dwelling should be; Far from cities and towns, with their tumult and strife, With the birds and the flowers thou should'st pass thy young life; Where the flower on the sward, and the bird on the tree, Alone gave its song and its beauty to thee,- Fit abode is such gem, on the bright Ocean's brow, For a creature so sweet and so lovely as thou. Where the bounties of nature are scattered around, And each bush and each tree with rich fruitage is crown'd; Where the insects and birds-as they sport on the wing- Rejoice in a constant duration of spring; Where the streamlet-that murmurs in beauty along- Glads thy brow with its coolness, thine ear with its song, And all nature around wears her gaudiest vest, To welcome so good and so gentle a guest. Where the sea that encircles that fair peaceful land, Never breaks with rude surge on the bright golden sand, But the happy young wavelets, that sparkle so sweet, Dance wild in their glee ere they break at thy feet: A region of bliss-where no restless commotion Within, on the land, or without, on the Ocean;- Fit emblem that land, and fit emblem that sea, Of a creature so pure and so peaceful as thee. Where nature reposes-below and on high- In the green of the sea and the blue of the sky; Where the sun loves to pour on the fairest of isles The first of his says and the last of his smiles, And ere the bright glory has sunk in the west, Throws a mantle of gold round the isle he loves best- There to spend all my days-oh! the rapture-the bliss! With a creature so pure, on an island like this. =======Rob Lunbull. O, WE'LL KEEP OUR HEARTS ABOON. AIR - "_O why should old age so much wassail us, O._" O WE'LL keep our hearts aboon i' the bearing o't, O we'll keep our hearts aboon i' the bearing o't; Though our pows are turning grey, and life's fleeting fast away, Yet we'll never cut it short wi the fearing o't. O our friendship it began when our years were but few, O our friendship it began when our years were but few; Now many a year we've seen, wi' the world white and green, Yet every time we've met, still our happiness is seen, Though we're neither lairds nor lords, yet the world it is wide, Though we're neither lairds nor lords, yet the world it is wide; And the merle's i' the wud, and the lav'rock's i' the clud, And our cantie wee bit housikie by yon burnie side. Let the warld just rin round i' the auld way o't, Let the warld just rin round i' the auld way o't; And the puir conceited fool, and the cauld and envious snool, We've still a laugh to spare them in our blythe way o't. =======James Telfer. JEANIE KELLY. "HEY Jeanie Kelly, where hae ye been, I'd wate? Howe Jeanie Kelly, where hae ye been sae late?" "It's I've been in the greenwood, meetin' Johnie Gray, O I can meet my Johnie either night or day. =Hey the bonnie greenwood, ho the bonnie greenwood, =It's there I'll meet my Johnie either night or day." "Does he speak ye kindly, telling tales o' love, Or is he ane o' thae wad woman's weakness prove?" "O yes, he speaks me kindly, kissing when we part, Of a' the lads my Johnie's dearest to my heart. =I' the bonny greenwood, &c. =Of a' the lads, &c. "His speech is aye sae modest, and his very e'e Tell's aye what he's meanin', at least it does to me; And when we gang thegither, my arm link'd into his, I mind na what the sorrow or care o' this warld is, =I' the bonny greenwood, &c. "O he has vow'd to lo'e me, and lo'e nane but me, This gowden ring he's gi'en me a pledge of faith to be; He said, will ye be mine? I couldna say him nay, Twas in the bonny greenwood I wan my Johnie Gray. =Hey the bonny greenwood, &c. ='Twas in, &c. =======Wm. Oliver. WINTER. Now the tops of the Ochils are chilly with snow, But houses are warm in the valleys below; The roofs are all white in their winter's attire, But firesides are cosy with long flaming fire. Old Boreas, the storesman of snow and of hail, Sifts down from his bolter dire drift on our vale, With rain-drops at his nose and ice gauds at his ears, He but heightens our joys when his grimness appears. He may gowl till he gasp; he may fret till he freeze All the burns in their beds, in their channels the seas; But the warmth of our hearts, as in friendship they glow, He never can cool with his frost and his snow. In summer we garnish our goblets with flowers, And we sit all the even amid our rose bowers; In winter our hearts the more merrily mingle, And cuddle more close round the bowl and the ingle. Then here's to the man that doth temper a wee His wisdom with folly, his douceness with glee; Whose heart, tried the more, but the better doth prove, Aye happy with lore, and aye kindly with love. =======W. T. O LIST THE MAVIS' MELLOW NOTE. OH! list the mavis' mellow note =Frae 'mang the aspen leaves, While, big wi' sang, his swelling throat =An' mottled breastie heaves. Oh! sweetly pours the bonny bird =His music wild and free, But, Mary, sang was never heard =Could wile my heart frae thee. The last bright tints o' sunset fair =Gleam on the distant hill; Like threads o' polish'd silver there =Glow many a streaming rill. The flowers smell sweet when gloaming grey =Sends dews across the lea- Nae odours sweet or colours gay =Can wile my heart frae thee. The blythsome lambs will sport at e'en =On mony a broomy knowe, And through the gowan'd glen sae green =The mountain stream will row. The trouts that sport aneath its wave =Unguiled may live for me; Nae hackle bright, or harle grave, =Can wile my heart frae thee. Beneath the gloaming's mellow light =The landscape fair may lie; The laverock in his yirthward flight =May cleave the gowden sky; And Nature, baith Wi' sicht and sound, =May pleasure ear and e'e, But, Mary, lass, the warld's bound =Hauds nought sae dear to me. =======Mr A. Foster. SANDY ALLAN. AIR - "_Saw ye Johnny coming?_" WHA is he I hear sae crouse, =There ahint the hallan? Whase skirlin' rings thro' a' the house, =Ilk corner o' the dwallin'. O! it is ane, a weel kent chiel, =As mirth o'er set a bawlin', Or filled a neuk in drouthy biel,- =It's canty Sandy Allan. He has a gaucy kind guidwife, =This blythsome Sandy Allan, Wha lo'es him meikle mair than life, =And glories in her callan. As sense an' sound are ane in sang, =Sae's Jean an' Sandy Allan; Twa hearts, yet but ae pulse an' tongue, =Hae Luckie an' her callan. To gie to a', it's aye his rule, =Their proper name an' callin'; A knave's a knave-a fule's a fule, =Wi' honest Sandy Allan. For ilka vice he has a dart, =An' 'heavy is it's fallin'; But ay for worth a kindred heart =Has ever Sandy Allan. To kings a knee he winna bring, =Sae proud is Sandy Allan; The man wha rightly feels is king =O'er rank wi' Sandy Allan. Auld nature, just to show the warl' =Ae truly honest callan; She strippit til't, and made a carle, =And ca't him Sandy Allan. =======Alex. Hume. WOMAN'S WARK WELL NE'ER BE DUNE. WOMAN'S wark will ne'er be dune, =Although the day were o'er sae lang; Sae meikle but, sae meikle ben,- =But for her care a' wad gae wrang: And aiblins a poor thriftless wight =To spend the gear sae ill to won, Aft gars an eydent thrifty wife =Say "woman's wark will ne'er be dune." We little think, in youthfu' prime, =When wooing, what our weird may be; But aye we dream, and aye we hope, =That blythe and merry days we'll see; And blythe and merry might we be- =But when is heard the weary tune, "The morn it comes, the morn it gaes, =But woman's wark will ne'er be dune." I've been at bridals and at feasts, =When care was in the nappy drowned; The world might sink, or it might swim, =Man, wife and weans were a' aboon't; But - wae's my heart to think upon't!- =The neist day brought the waefu' croon,- "Come bridals, or come merry feasts, =A woman's wark will ne'er be dune." Twa bairnies toddlln' at the fit, =An' aiblins ane upon the knee, Gar life appear an unco faught, =An' mony hae the like to dree; But cherub lips an' kisses sweet =Keep aye a mither's heart aboon, Although the owrecome o' the sang =Is "woman's work will ne'er be dune." =======R. Allan. THE TRYSTING TREE, THE trysting tree, the trysting tree, =O dear that gnarly trunk to me! My saul hath been in heaven hie =When wooing 'neath the trysting tree. The birds lay silent in their nests, =The flowers lay faulded on the lea, An' a' was still, save our twa breasts, =Warm throbbing 'neath the trysting tree. We sigh'd, we blush'd, but a' was hush'd, =For no ae word to spare had we; But ae chaste kiss spak a' our bliss, =Aneath the dear auld trysting tree. We made nae tryst, we changed nae vows, =But, aye when daylight closed his e'e, We somehow met aneath the boughs =O' that auld kindly trysting tree. But grief an' time ha'e wrought sad wark =Upon that dear auld tree an' me; The light that lit my soul is dark, =The leaves ha'e left the trysting tree. The trysting tree, the trysting tree, =Though dear its twisted trunk to me, It wrings my heart, and droons my e'e, =To gaze upon that trysting tree. =======James Ballantine. BAULDY BUCHANAN. O WHA hasna heard o' blythe Bualdy Buchanan? A hale hearty carle o' some saxty years stan'in'; Gae search the hale kintra, frae Lanark to Lunnon, Ye'll scarce find the match o' blythe Bauldy Buchanan. For Bauldy's sae cracky, an' Bauldy's sae canty- A frame o' threescore, wi' a spirit o' twenty- Wo' his auld farrant tales, an' his jokin', an' funnin', A rich an' rare treat is blythe Bauldy Buchanan. Blythe Bauldy Buchanan's a wonderfu' drinker O' knowledge - for he's a great reader an' thinker- There's scarcely an author frae Bentham to Bunyan, But has been run dry by blythe Bauldy Buchanan. He kens a' the courses an' names o' the planets- The secret manoeuvres o' courts an' o' senates- Can tell you what day Babel's tower was begun on;- Sae deep read in beuks is blythe Bauldy Buchanan. He can play on the bag-pipe, the flute, and the fiddle, Explain ony text, or expound ony riddle, At deep calculation, at drawin', an' plannin', There's naebody equal to Bauldy Buchanan. He kens how the negroes are black and thick-lippit- How Leopards are spotted-how zebras are strippit- How maidens in Turkey sae muckle are run on;- Sae versed in sic matters is Bauldy Buchanan. How the English like beer, an' the Scotch like their whisky- How Frenchmen are temperate, lively, and frisky- How the Turks are sae grave, an' the Greeks are sae cunnin', Can a' be explained by blythe Bauldy Buchanan. An' mair than a' that, he can trace out the cause O' rain an' fair weather-o' frosts an' o' thaws- An' what keeps the earth in its orbit still runnin';- Sae wonderfu' learned is blythe Bauldy Buchanan. When round his fireside neebours meet in the gloamin's, An' hear him describe the auld Greeks an' the Humans- How they battled an' fought without musket or cannon- The folks glow'r wi' wonder at Bauldy Buchanan. Or when he descends frae the grave to the witty, An' tells some queer story, or sings some droll ditty, Wi' his poetry, pleasantry, puzzlin', an punnin', Their sides are made sair wi' blythe Bauldy Buchanan. But o' a' the attractions that Bauldy possesses, His greatest attractions are twa bonnie lasses; 'Mang a' the fine leddies frae Crail to Clackmannan, There's nane can match Bella an' Betty Buchanan. For O they're sae clever, sae frank, an' sae furthy, Sae bonnie, sae bloomin', sae wise, an' sae worthy, They keep the hale lads in the parish a-runnin' An' strivin' for Bella an' Betty Buchanan. =======Alex. Rodger. SLY WIDOW SKINNER. AIR - "_The Lothian lassie._" O THE days when I strutted (to think o't I'm sad) =The heir to a cozy bit mailen, When sly Widow Skinner gat round me, the jaud! =For she thought my auld daddy was failin', was failin', =She thought my auld daddy was failin'. I promised to tak' her for better for worse, =Though sma' was my chance to be happy, For I found she had courtit na me, but my purse; =What's waur - that she liket a drappy, a drappy; =What's waur - that she liket a drappy. Then a'e nicht at a kirn I saw Maggy Hay, =To see her was straight to adore her; The widow look'd blue when I pass'd her neist day, =An' waited na e'en to speer for her, speer for her, =An' waited na e'en to speer for her. O pity my case - I was sheepishly raw, =And she was a terrible Tartar! She spak about "measures," and "takin' the law,' =And I set mysel' down for a martyr, a martyr, =I set mysel' down for a martyr. I buckled wi' Mag, an' the blythe honeymoon =Scarce was owre, when the widow I met her; She girningly whisper'd, "Hech! weel ye ha'e dune, =But, tent me, lad, I can do better, do better, =But, tent me, lad, I can do better. "''Gin ye canna get berries, put up wi' the hools!" =Her proverb I countit a blether; But, - widows for ever for hookin' auld fules- =Neist week she was cry'd wi' my feyther, my feyther, =Neist week she was cry'd wi' my feyther. =======Thomas C. Letts. A DECEMBER DITTY. THE merry bird o' simmer's flown, =Wi' his brave companions a'; Grim Winter has the green leaf stown, =An' gifted us the snaw. The big bough sings a dowie sang =As it swings in the deepening drift: An' the glint o' day just creeps alang =The ledge o' the leaden lift. But awa' wi' words in wintry weed, =An' thoughts that bode o' ill! What! are we o' the forest breed, =To dow wi' the daffodil? Let's roose up, merry days we've seen, =When carping Care was dumb; Let's think on flowers and simmers green- =There's Julys yet to come! Though my lair is in a foreign land, =My friends ayont the sea, There's fushion in affection's band =To draw them yet to me! =======Huw Ainslie. CAN'T YOU BE ASY. AIR - "_Arrah, Catty, now, can't you be asy?" OH what stories I'll tell when my sodgering's o'er, =And the gallant Fourteenth is disbanded; Not a drill nor parade will I hear of no more, =When safely in Ireland landed, With the blood that I spilt-the Frenchmen I kilt, =I'll drive the young girls half crazy; And some 'cute one will cry, with a wink of her eye, =Mister Free, now - "_why can't you be asy?_" I'll tell how we routed the squadrons in fight, =And destroyed them all at "Talavera," And then I'll just add, how we finished the night, =In learning to dance the "bolera;" How by the moonshine, we drank rael wine, =And rose next day fresh as a daisy; Then some one will cry, with a look mighty sly, ="Arrah, Mickey - _now can't you be asy?_" I'll tell how the nights with Sir Arthur we spent, =Around a big fire in the air too, Or may be enjoying ourselves in a tent, =Exactly like Donnybrook fair too; How he'd call out to me - "Pass the wine, Mr Free =For you're a man never is lazy!" Then some one will cry, with a wink of her eye, ="Arrah, Mickey dear-_can't you be asy?_" I'll tell, too, the long years in fighting we passed, =Till Mounseer asked Bony to lead him; And Sir Arthur, grown tired of glory at last, =Begged of one Mickey Free to succeed him, "But, acushla," says I, "the truth is I'm shy! =There's a lady in Ballynacrazy!" "And I swore on the book-" he gave me a look, =And cried, Mickey - "_now can't you be asy?_" =======C Perry. NOW SANDY MAUN AWA'. AIR - "_There's nae luck about the house_." THE drum has beat the _General_, =Now Sandy maun awa', But first he gaes the lasses roun', =To bid God bless them a'! Down smirking Sally's dimpled cheek =The tears begin to fa':- "O Sandy, I am wae to think =That ye maun leave us a'." Poor Maggy sighs, and sings the sang =He lik'd the best of a', And hopes by that to ease her heart =When Sandy's far awa'. Alake! poor silly maiden, =Your skill in love's but sma'; We shouldna think o' auld langsyne =When sweethearts are awa'. In blythesome Nancy's open heart =His looks hae made a flaw, An' yet she vows the men a' loons, =An' Sandy warst of a'! Now Jenny she affects to scorn, =An' sneers at their ill fa'; She reckons a' the warld thinks =She likes him best of a'! At gentle Kitty's weel-kenn'd door =He ca'd the last ava', Because his heart bade him say mair =To her, than to them a'. Now Sandy's ta'en his bonnet off, =An' waves fareweel to a', An' cries, just wait till I come back, =An' I will kiss ye a'! =======J Blamise. THE GATHERING, RISE! rise! lowland and highlandmen! =Bald sire to beardless son, each come, and early; Rise! rise! mainland and islandmen, =Belt on your broad claymores-fight for Prince Charlie; ===Down from the mountain steep- ===Up from the valley deep- Out from the clachan, the bothy, and shieling- ===Bugle and battle-drum, ===Bid chief and vassal come, Bravely our bagpipes the pibroch is pealing! =======Rise! rise! &c. Men of the mountains! - descendants of heroes! =Heirs of the fame as the hills of your fathers; Say, shall the Southern - the Sassenach fear us, =When to the war-peal each plaided clan gathers? ===Too long on the trophied walls ===Of your ancestral halls, Red rust hath blunted the armour of Albin; ===Seize then, ye mountain Macs, ===Buckler and battle-axe, Lads of Lochaber, Braemar, and Braedalbane! =======Rise! rise! &c. When hath the tartan plaid mantled a coward? =When did the blue bonnet crest the disloyal? Up, then and crowd to the standard of Stuart; =Follow your leader - the rightful - the royal! ===Chief of Clanronald, ===Donald M'Donald! Lovat! Lochiel! with the Grant and the Gordon! ===Rouse every kilted clan. ===Rouse every loyal man, Gun on the shoulder, and thigh the good sword on! =======Rise! rise! &c. =======John Finlady. BONNIE MARY JAMIESON. AIR - "_Carle, now the king's come._" ==BONNY Mary Jamieson, ==Fairest flow'ret 'neath the sun! ==Joy attend thee, lovely one- ===Bonnie Mary Jamieson! Weave a garland diadem- Roses, from their flowery stem, Wi' dew-drops glittering, mony a gem, =For bonnie Mary Jamieson! ==Bonnie Mary Jamieson, &c. Bring the lily frae the lea, The scented flower from hawthorn tree, And they shall be a wreath for thee, =My bonnie Mary Jamieson! ==Bonnie Mary Jamieson, &c. When the sun glides down the west, And feather'd songsters seek their nest, I'll meet wi' her whom I lo'e best- =My bonnie Mary Jamieson! ==Bonnie Mary Jamieson, &c. And when the wintry tempests blaw, Drifting round the whitening snaw, I'll laugh the angry storm awa', =Wi' bonnie Mary Jamieson ==Bonnie Mary Jamieson, ==Fairest flow'ret 'neath the sun, ==Joy attend thee! lovely one, ===My bonnie Mary Jamieson! =======Rob Giefichan. MY HEATHER LAND. AIR - "_Black Watch._" MY heather land, my heather land, =My dearest prayer be thine, Although, upon thy hapless knowes =There breathes nae friend o' mine. The lanely few that Heaven had spared =Now tread a foreign strand, An' I maun wait to weep wi' thee =My dear loved heather land! My heather land, my heather land, ="Though fairer lands there be," Your gow'nie braes in early days =Were gouden scenes to me! Maun life's poor boon gae dark'ning down, =Nor set whar it first dawn'd- But find a grave ayont the wave? =Alas! my heather land! My heather land, my heather land, =Thy chillin' winter pours Its feeezin' breath round fireless hearth, =Whar breadless misery cow'rs. Yet breaks the light that soon shall blight =The reiver's ruthless hand, An' rampant tyranny shall cease =To blight our heather land. =======William Thom- SWEET SERAPH OF THE PEACEFUL BROW. SWEET seraph of the peaceful brow, =And of the starry eye, 'Tis long since aught so fair as thou =Hath left yon azure sky, And long era one so good and bright =These eyes again may meet, Or know the thrill of wild delight, =To gaze on aught so sweet. How I have loved 'twere vain to tell, =Yet deep that love must be, When nought on earth may break the spell =That binds this heart to thee. Should years of absenee o'er us lash =Their surges as they roll, Not all the waves of time shall wash =Thy mem'ry from my soul. No star e'er shone to pilgrim's eyes =So bright, so fair to see, As when I watched thy beauty rise =A star of hope to me. Away from whose soft peaceful rays =The eye may ne'er remove, But rests, with still admiring gaze. =On thee, sweet star of love. And ever, through life's troubled night, =The bliss will still be mine To turn my gaze from others' light, =And fix mine eyes on thine. For even at last, if hope and love =Could in this bosom die, Thy peaceful beauty still would prove =A star of memory. =======Rob Lunibull THE MARLED MITTENS. AIR - "_Johnny Dow._" MY aunty Kate raucht down her wheel, =That on the bauks had lien fu' lang; Sought out her whorles an' her reel, =An' fell to wark wi' merry bang. She took her cairds, an' cairdin' skin, =Her walgie fu' o' creeshie woo, An' rave awa' wi' scrivin' din, =An' mixed at wi' a hair o' blue. Bedeen the spokes she eident tirled, =Wi' virr the rim an' spinnle span; And sune the rows to threads were whirled, =As back an' fore the floor she ran. Wi' baith my een I stood and glow'r'd, =An' ferlied what she niest wad do, As lichtsome ower the floor she scour'd, =An' blithely lilted "Tarry woo." Syne frae the wheel, and eke the reel, =The aefauld yarn was ta'en awa', To the yarnits niest, to lay an' twist- =Ilk clew was bigger than a ba'! Then in twa e'enin's after dark =Her knittin' wires she ply'd wi' glee; An' what was a' my aunty's wark? =Just marled mittens wrought for me. =======John Watson. "THE MAID THAT I ADORE!" THE rustling of the western gale =Is music sweet to me; It joyful comes, o'er moor and dale, =From off the distant sea, Whose waves, in lines of snowy foam, =Salute the circling shore, Which bounds my Mary's peaceful home- =The maid that I adore. The slowly-sinking radiant sun =Is welcome to my sight, When lofty ridge and summit dun =Are basking in his light; I deem the while, ere he depart, =He sheds his glory o'er The dark-ey'd damsel of my heart- =The maid that I adore. I love to breathe, at early day, =The balmy air of spring, When dew-drops hang on every spray, =And birds unnumber'd sing. The blossoms white, the foliage green, =Expanding more and more, Recall to me my bosom-queen- =The maid that I adore. O! sweet is summer's glorious smile, =And autumn's promise rare! But what, o'er land, o'er sea, or isle, =May with my love compare? So high in worth, surpassing far =All nature's precious store, Is she-my bright, my leading-star, =The maid that I adore, =======Robert White. TELL ME, DEAR, &c. AIR - "_Loudoun's bonnie woods and braes._' TELL me, dear! in mercy speak, =Has Heaven heard my prayer, lassie? Faint the rose is in thy cheek, =But still the rose is there, lassie! Away, away, each dark foreboding, Heavy days with anguish clouding; Youthfu' love in sorrow shrouding, =Heaven could ne'er allow, lassie; Day and night I've tended thee, Watching, love! thy changing e'e; Dearest gift that Heaven could gi'e =Say thou'rt happy now, lassie. Jamie! lay thy cheek to mine, =Kiss me, oh, my ain laddie! Never mair may up o' thins =Press where it hath lien, laddie! hark! I hear the angels calling, Heavenly strains are round me falling, But the stroke-thy soul appalling- ='Tis my only pain, laddie! Yet the love I bear to thee Shall follow where I soon maun be; I'll tell how gude thou wert to me: =We part to meet again, laddie! Lay thine arm beneath my head, =Grieve na sae for me, laddie! I'll thole the doom that lays me dead. =But no a tear frae thee, laddie! Aft where yon dark tree is spreading, When the sun's last beam is shedding, Where no earthly foot is treading, =By my grave thou'lt be, laddie! Though my sleep be wi' the dead, Frae on high my soul shall speed And hover nightly round thy head, =Altho' thou wilt na see, laddie! =======Thomas C. Latts AULD JOUNNY TO YOUNG MAGGY. AIR - "_I ha'e laid a herrin' in saut._" LASS, I'm Johnny Ripples o' Whappleton Ha', =An' you bonnie Maggy wha won at the Broom; Now, better late marry than never ava, =Sae to woo and to win ye, my dawtie, I've come I'm no unco auld yet-I'm only threescore- =Ay, threescore precisely, just coming neist Yule I'm hearty an' hale, an' fu' sound at the core, =An' gin ye refuse me, there's ane o' us fule. I want na a tocher, - I ken ye ha'e nane, =But, hinny, I've plenty at hame for us baith; Just draw in your stool to my cozie hearthstane, =I trow we'll ha'e nae scant o' meat an' o' claith. I'm a bodie fu' bien, tho' I say it mysel', =I've a dizzen o milk-kye, whilk rowt i' their sta', An' ten score o' bob-tails a' gaun on the hill, =An' cleeding the knowes aroun' Whappleton Ha'. And whan that we gang to the fairs or the kirk, =Fu' braw-buss'd ahint me ye'll ride on the meer, An' hear, as we pass, the folk say wi' a smirk, ="There's douce Johnny Ripples an' his dainty dear!" It's cannie, an' wyse-like, to be a gudewife, =Whan there's plenty to look to in pantry an' ha'; But hunger and hership soon soon lead to strife =When there's nought i' the house but a cauld coal to blaw. An', Maggy, my doo, some blythe comin' year, =Wha kens whar a family blessin' may fa'; A bonny doo's cleekin' may aiblins appear =A' toddlin' their lane around Whappleton Ha'. Now, Maggie, my dearie, I've said ye my say, =An' I will come back on naist Friday at e'en, To hear frae your ain mouth your yea or your nay; =Sae, gudenight to ye, Maggie, my winsome yoong queen. =======C A Mercur. YOUNG MAGGY TO AULD JOHNNY. AIR - "_I hae laid a herrin' in saut._" I'VE a bonny bit face o' my ain, =Bodie, come here nae mair to woo; I'm gentle an' jimp, an' weel may be vain, =Sae, bodie, d'ye think I'll marry you> I've twa e'en as black as a slae, =Carle, come here nae mair to woo; Twa cheeks like blossoms in flowery May; =Grey haffits, d'ye think I'll marry you? I've a wee mouthie ye ne'er sall kiss, =Grim bodie, come here nae mair to woo; On like side dimples, as deep as you'd wiss; =Auld runkles! d'ye think I'll marry you? I've a bonnie black mole on my chin, =Doilt bodie, come here nae mair to woo; Like ink is the drap, an' like paper my skin, =Gray-beard! d'ya think I'll marry wi' you? I've a wee foot, there is music in't, =Hirplas, come here nae mair to woo; In trippin' the green it is never ahint, =Nae lamiter jo for me I trow. I can sing-auld bodie gae back; =John Ripples, come here nae mair to woo; An' tho' I ha'e yet my mercat to mak, =I'll never be bought, auld Gripple, by you, =======C A Mercur. THIS NIGHT YE'LL CROSS, &c. THIS night ye'll cross the bosky glen, Ance mair, O would ye meet me than? I'll seem as bygane bliss an' pain ====Were a' forgot; I winna weep to weary thee, Nor seek the love ye canna gi'e;- Whar first we met, O let that be ====The parting spot! The hour just when the faithless light O' yon pale star forsakes the night; I wouldna pain ye wi the blight ====Ye've brought to me. I would not that its proud cauld ray Should mock me wi' its scornfu' play;- The sunken een and tresses grey ====Ye maunna see. Wi' sindered hearts few words will sair, Au' brain-dried grief nae tears can spare; These bluidless lips shall never mair ====Name thine or thee. At murky night O meet me then! Restore my plighted troth again; Your bonnie bride shall never ken ====Your wrangs to me. =======William Thom- CREEP AFORE YE GANG. CREEP awa', my bairnie, creep afore ye gang, Cock ye baith your lugs to your auld Grannie's sang: =Gin ye gang as far ye will think the road lang, =Creep awa', my bairnie, creep afore ye gang. Creep awa', my bairnie, ye're ower young to learn To tot up and down yet, my bonnie wee bairn; =Better creepin' cannie, than fa'in' wi' a bang, =Duntin' a' your wee brow, - creep afore ye gang. Ye'll creep, an' ye'll hotch, an' ye'll nod to your mither, Watchin' ilka step o' your wee dousy brither; =Rest ye on the floor till your wee limbs grow strang, =An' ye'll be a brew chiel yet, - creep afore ye gang. The wee birdie fa's when it tries ower soon to flee, Folks are sure to tumble, when they climb ower hie; =They wha canna walk right, are sure to come to wrang =Creep awa', my bairnie, creep afore ye gang. =======James Ballantine. LORD SPYNIE. FROM A TRADITION OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. LORD SPYNIE ye may pu' the rose, =An' spare the lily flower, When ye gae through the garden green =To woo in ladye bower; An' ye may pu' the lightsome thyme, =An' leave the lonesome rue; For lang and sair will the ladye mourn =That ye gae there to woo! For ye will look and lalk of luve, =An' kindly, kindly smile, An' vow by grace, an' a that's gude, =An' lay the luring wile. 'Tis sair to rob the bonnie bird =That makes you melodie; 'Tis cruel to win a woman's luve, =An' no ha'e love to gie! I wadna ha'e your wilfu' hand =Tho' a' the earth were thine; Ye've broken many a maiden's peace, =Ye've mair than broken mine. I wadna ha'e your faithless heart, ='Tis no your ain to gi'e; But gin ye ever think of heaven, =Oh! ye maun think of me! =======Alex Laing. DRUCKEN TAM, THE BAKER. A MYSTERY. AIR - "_The Quaker's Wife._" MISS MYSIE MILL was aged - hem! =And ne'er a man would take her, Yet how she blush'd to hear the name =Of drucken Tam, the baker. For oftentimes to tea and toast, =And other recreation, 'Twas known she'd sent him thro' the post =A card of invitation. Now you must know this queer-like bean, =Tho' dusty as a miller, In Mysie's eye was quite the go, =And quite a lady-killer. His boots and hat (oh! such a hat,) =Might well have claim'd a pension; And how the coat stuck to his back =Was past all comprehension. His head was like a cauliflower; =His legs were short and bandy; His teeth were brown-he had but four- =As bits of sugar-candy. His mouth was stretch'd from ear to ear, =A most expressive feature; But Mysie swore he was "a dear," =The fascinating creature! His nose was like a partan's back, =Or like a copper-kettle; Tho' Mysie elegantly said, ='Twas like a rose's petal. And as we differ in our tastes, =For white and crimson roses, What wonder tho' Miss Mysie did =Prefer a red proboscis? O would my verse but flow like his =Who sung the Doon and Lugar, I'd paint his smile, so very sweet, =It sav'd Miss Mysie's sugar: But Mysie's beau was cold to love, =The fact there's no disguisin', He roll'd his eye, then ey'd his roll, =And quietly sipp'd her Hyson, And honest Tam, when o'er his dram, =Did wamankind despise aye; He toasted baps, he toasted cheese, =But never toasted Mysie. At last one summer's afternoon, =Oh! how she did confuse him, She press'd him to a cup of tea. =Then press'd him to-her bosom. Could brute or baker gaze anmov'd =On Mysie's glowing charms? And now the _flour_ of all the town =Was clasp'd within her arms. Poor Thomas grinn'd a horrid grin. =What anguish he did cause her; She dropt a tear, while from his hand =There dropt a cup and saucer. With face as long as baker's brod, =And staring goggle eyes, he Was gasping like a dying cod =Within the hug of Mysie. One word she whisper'd in his ear, =But none may ever know It, The secret rests with Tam himself. =And Mysie, and - the poet. When, lo! his optics strait he rais'd, =I'm wrong, alas! he squinted; But sure as fate, a loving kiss =He on her lips imprinted. My tale is told; as to the rest =I'm mum as any Quaker; Miss Mysie's garret's now "To let, =And sober is the baker. =======Thomas C. Latts. THE LAND OF MY BIRTH. _Music by R Stewart._ KEN ye the land o' the haugh and the brae, =O' the meadow, the mountain, and rill? Ken ye the land whar the blu'art and slae =Grow fresh on the broo o' the hill?- The doo to the dooket, the whaup to the fen, =The young to their joy and their mirth, I'm thirled to it like the hare to its den, =For that land was the place o' my birth. Ken ye the land o' the plantin' and bower, =O' the heather, the broom, and the whin? Ken ye the land o' the castle and tower, =O' the river, the rock, and the linn?- The hawk to his eirie, the owl to his dream, =The gull to his rock in the firth- I'm thirled to it like the trout to the stream, =For that land was the place o' my birth. Ken ye the land whar the thistle is found, =The land o' the free and the bauld? I'm thirled to it like that plant to the ground, =Wi' a luve that will never grow cauld. I'll cherish that flame still burning unblenched, =Wi' a luve for my hame, and its hearth; And, oh! may those household fires never be quenched, =That bleeze bright in the land o'my birth. =======Mr A. Foster. SONG OF THE LITTLE FOAM-BELL. =LIKE a wandering beam, =On the breast of the stream, I have come from my home on the hills afar =I have leapt o'er the steeps =Where the hurricane sweeps, And rings the wild song of the stormy war. =I have passed through the gorge, =Where the boiling surge Was leaping the bounds of its ancient sway- =Where the lone owl wails, =And the Nalad sails, In her flowing robes 'neath the pale moon's ray. =Where the Naiads lave =Their necks in the wave, And their breasts like floating snowballs seem, =I have whirled me round, =Like a fitful sound, That rings in the ear in a pleasant dream. =A wandering sigh, =That was fluttering by, Pursuing hope from a maiden's breast, =Alit on my bark, =Like the dove on the ark. For It found on earth no place of rest. =A sunbeam, torn =From the brow of morn, Like a living star on my pathway driven, =Beacon'd my flight, =When no other light Beam'd from the starless arch of heaven. =I bore on my bosom =The leaf of a blossom, That bloom'd in a bower where lovers sighed, =But a roaming sprite =In its wayward flight, Stole it, and sank in the silvery tide. =In the balmy spring, =The Fairy-King Oft sent his Queen with me afloat: =When the glow-worm's beam, =And the lover's dream, He wove for sails to his fairy boat. =On the waters I dwell, =A little foam-bell: O! who will with me to the silvery sea- =I will sing a sweet song, =As I wander along To the limitless realm of eternity. ======Wm K Ameusil THE BATTLE OF PRESTON. AIR - "_Johnny Cope._" THE blairin' trumpet sounded far, And horsemen rode, weel graithed for war, While Sir John Cope marched frae Dunbar. =Upon a misty morning. Prince Charlie, wi' his Highland host, Lay westward on the Lothian coast; But Johnny bragg'd, wi' mony a boast, =He'd rout them ere neist morning. Lang are the cock proclaimed it day, The Prince's men stood in array; And, though impatient for the fray, =Bent low the knee that morning. When row-dow rolled the English drum, The Highland bagpipe gied a bum, And tauld the mountain clans had come, =Grim death and danger scorning. Ilk nerve was strung, ilk heart was true; A shot! and down their guns they threw; Then forth their deadly claymores drew, =Upon that fearfu' morning. The English raised a loud huzza, But durstna bide the brunt ava; They wavered - turned - syne ran awa', =Like sheep at shepherd's warning. Fast, fast, their foot and horsemen flew; And caps ware mixed wi' bonnets blue, And dirks were wet - but no wi' dew - =Upon that dreadfu' morning. Few stayed - save ae devoted band- To thole the sweep o' Highland brand, That flashed around - and head and hand =Cropped, on that bluidy morning. What sad mishaps that few befel! When faint had grown the battle's yell, Still Gardiner fought-and fighting fell, =Upon that awesome morning: Nae braggart - but a sodger he, Wha scorned wi' coward loons to flee; Sae fell aneath the auld thorn tree, =Upon that fatal morning! =======Charles Gray. THE DAWTIE. AIR - "_The haughs of Crumdale._" JENNY. THOUGH weel I like ye, Jwohnny lad, =I cannot, munnet marry yet! My peer auld mudder's unco bad, =Sae we a wheyle mun tarry yet; For ease or comfort she has neane- Leyfe's just a lang, lang neet o' pain; I munnet leave her aw her lane, =And wunnet, wunnet marry yet. JWOHNNY, O Jenny, dunnet brek this heart, =And say we munnet marry yet; Thou cannot act a jillet's part- =Why sud we tarry, tarry yet? Think, lass, of aw the pains I feel; I've leyk'd thee lang, nin kens how weel! For thee, I'd feace the verra deil- =O say not we maun tarry yet. JENNY. A weddet leyfe's oft dearly bowt; =I cannot, munnet marry yet: Ye ha'e but little - I ha'e nought- =Sae we a wheyle maun tarry yet. My heart's yer awn, ye needna fear, But let us wait anudder year, And luive, and toil, and screape up gear- =We munnet, munnet marry yet. 'Twas but yestreen, my mudder said, =O, dawtie, dunnet marry yet; I'll soon lig i'my last cauld bed; =Tow's aw my comfort-tarry yet. Whene'er I steal out o' her seet, She seighs, and sobs, and nought gangs reet- Whisht! - that's her feeble voice; - guid neet! =We munnet, munnet marry yet. =======Robert Anderson. CRABBED CARE. HENCE! frae my biggin', crabbed Care, Hence, grousome carle, and never dare =Show face o' thine =In hame o' mine. Go! haunt the ha's o' spite and spleen, Where Envy, withering witch, is seen; =But come nae here, =To spoil our cheer, Wi' thy sour leeks and prospects drear, Or faith, ye's get a fright, auld frien'. Thou knowest I bore me like a saunt, When your keen biting brother, Want, =Cam', e'er I wist, =And toom'd my kist- He cut my doublet's tender steeks, Rave saul and body o' my breeks; =Syne stole the dew, =And roses too, That bloom'd wi' sic a healthy hue, Frae my wee dearie's lips and cheeks. I fought the foul fiend late and ear', Wi' swinging flail I thrash'd him sair; =Wi' pick and spade =His grauff I made; While fast before my blythe-gaun plough Awa' his sooty spirit flew- =Haith! frien', when be =Was made to flee Far frae my humble hame and me, I wad be laith to yield to you. But ere ye flit the road ye cam', Come, clatterin' bare banes, tak a dram; ='Twill fire a glee =In your dead e'e- 'Twill ease ye o' your lade o' woes, And a buirdly bulk ye bear, guid knows; ='Twill smooth awa' =Your brow's rough raw, And melt wi' couthy, kindly thaw, The ice-drape free you; raw red nose. Care took the cup wi' greedy grup; Care toom'd his coggie at a whup; =Sine flung his pack =Aff's baney back, Whilst glowed his face wi' ruddy flame- I own, quo' he, I'm e'en to blame; =But there's my paw, =When neist I ca', Or show my face in your blythe ha', I'll turn my coat and change my name. =======A MacLaggan. WE TWINED OUR HEART'S IN ANE. WE twined our lovin' hearts in ane, =I' the spring-time o' the year, When the rejoicing earth seemed vain =O her braw bridal gear. When larks aboon the brairdin' rig =Their warm leal loves were tellin', Our hearts, like theirs, wi' pleasure big, =Were proudly, fondly swellin'. We twined our lovin' hearts in ane- =Alas! for Fate's decree- Ere the green spring came hack again, =Wide sindered hearts had we. When next the lark aboon the braird =His sang was sweetly pourin', Between our hearts, sae lately pair'd, =The billows big were roarin'. And ere the braird had grown to grain, =The lark had flown the lea, Beneath the cauld and cruel main =Lay a' was dear to me. And, oh! I wish the briny wave =That rows aboon my lover, Would take me to his deep, deep grave, =My lanely heart to cover. =======W. Fergurson O FOLLOW HER NOT! O FOLLOW her not! O follow her not! =Though she lure thee with smile and song; Fair is her cheek, but her heart is black, =And the poison of death's on her tongue, She'll leave on thy innocence many a blot- Then follow her not! O follow her not! Some call her Pleasure, and some call her Sin. =Some call her a Lady gay, For her step is light, and her eye is bright, =And she carols a blithesome lay, "Away to the bower where care is forgot!" But follow her not! O follow her not! Though her step invite, though her eye burn bright. =Though green be the leaves in her bower, Yet that step is false as a meteor-light, =And that eye hath the rattle-snake's power. Her bower! O wild and unblessed is the spot- Then follow her not! O follow her not! =======Will. Kennedy. AULD NANNIE CRUMMIE. AIR - _Any cannie lilt that will best answer. WHEN auld Nannie Crummie and I crap thegither, Amid the lang dearth, in the cauld winter weather, Folk jeering me, swore her as auld as my mither, An' ca'd me an ass to be tied till her tether. =I heard a' their sneering, as mim as a dumble, =An' could tholed muckle mair for my auld Nannie Crummie. The winter was cauld, an' my cleedin' was thin, I couldna weel work, an' I couldna weel win', I had little without, I had little within, I had wearied the frammit, an' herriet my kin,- =An', oh! the blue reek wimplin' frae the wud-lummie =Led me by the nose to my auld Nannie Crummie. I pree'd her fat bree, an' I felt me sae couthie, That, fain to pree mair, I e'en pree'd her wee mouthie; Young jilts whiles gae daft, but auld maids are aye toothie, An' like food to the hungry, or drink to the drouthie, =Were love an' a hame, to a loun like a hummie, =An' I met wi' them baith frae my auld Nannie Crummie. But an auld cripple sailor cam hame frae the main, Wha had left hame a callant, an' Nanny a wean, An' he swore he wad lay my back leigh on the plain, But I haikit him weel, an' wad do it again. =The auld wither'd bodie was dry as a mummy, =He ne'er could ha'e fattened wi' auld Nannie Crummie. Though we ha'ena a weanie to scant our meal luggie, Yet Nanse has a cattie, an' I hae a doggie; And tho' they whiles yaumer an' youff owre their coggie, Ye'll no fin' twa totums that cuddle mair vogie, =Ye may rin, gin ye like, lest I crack your lug drummis, =Wi' bawling the charms o' my auld Nannie Crummie. =======James Ballantine. THE WARRIOR'S HOME. ==SHALL the warrior rest ===When his battles are o'er?- ==When his country's oppress'd ===By the tyrant no more? Yes, yes to the arms of affection he'll come; Nor voice of the cannon, nor bugle, nor drum, ==Shall again reuse the warrior- ==The noble old warrior, He'll proudly enjoy the calm blessings of home! ==On each gay festive night ===When his gallants sit round, ==And the soft eye of light ===In fair woman is found! Then, then shall he tell of his feats on the plain, And in fancy lead on his bright armies again! ==This will cheer the old warrior, ==The noble old warrior,- Yet he'll weep for the brave who in battle were slain! ==He shall throw down his shield, ===And ungird his bright blade, ==That flash'd in the field ===When the onset was made;- He shall hang up his helmet, and lay himself down, Where love, and affection ne'er veil'd in a frown! ==Then rest thee, old warrior!- ==Thou noble old warrior The praise of an empire take, take -'tis thine own! =======Andrew Park. AH NO! - I CANNOT SAY. AH no! - I cannot say "farewell," ='Twould pierce my bosom through, And to this heart 'twere death's dread knell =To hear thee sigh - "adieu." Though soul and body both must part, =Yet ne'er from thee I'll sever, For more to me than soul thou art, =And O'! I'll quit thee - never. Whate'er through life may be thy fate, =That fate with thee I'll share, If prosperous-be moderate, =If adverse-meekly bear: This bosom shall thy pillow be =In every change whatever, And tear for tear I'll shed with thee, =But O! forsake thee-never. One home-one hearth shall ours be still, =And one our daily fare; One altar, too, where we may kneel, =And breathe our humble prayer; And one our praise that shall ascend =To one all-bounteous Giver, And one our will, our aim, our end, =For O! we'll sunder - never. And when that solemn hour shall come =That sees thee breathe thy last, That hour shall also fix my doom, =And seal my eyelids fast; One grave shall hold us, side by side, =One shroud our clay shall cover- And one then may we mount and glide =Through realms of love-for ever. =======Alex Rodger. THE OCEAN CHIEF. O'ER the ocean-hero's bed =The loud shout of triumph raise; To his spirit that hath fled, =Pour the hallow'd song of praise! For he listens from the skies to its tones, =And he perish'd like a man, In that best - his country's cause, =And the noble race he ran Asks the meed of your applause, =Since no sculptured marble lies o'er his bones. He was fearless in the fight, =But a gentle dove at home: 'Twas his country's menaced right =Which had sent him forth to roam- As a leader of her strife on the main- =And if he fell at last, It was crown'd with victory; =When the mover of the blast Had been vanquish'd by the free, =And all his mighty conquests render'd vain. Britannia long shall wail =For the loss of such a son; And her fallen foes grow pale, =When they think how much he won; But his name will be cherish'd by the brave =Of every creed and race, When their prows shall chance to sweep =O'er the precincts of the place, Where the spirits of the deep =Roll the wild foaming billows o'er his grave. =======L C Denovan. O THOU OCEAN! OH thou Ocean! an a sea boy, I have lain upon thy breast, Ere a dream of evil after-days could steal upon my sleep; I have gazed upon thy beauty when thy spirit was at rest, Till my heart's full founts o'erflowing made me turn away and weep. I have plough'd thee in the tempeet, I have plough'd thee in the calm, I have plough'd thee when the cannon roar and battle din was loud, At midnight, and at morn, when an Ether fraught with balm, Was hanging o'er thy bosom in a rosy-colour'd cloud. I have heard them talk of freedom ere I knew what freedom meant, I have heard them boast their lordship and dominion over thee; I have seen their mighty bulwarks, like a bulrush cradle, rent, And in sorrow turning round, have cried, "Thou alone art free!" I have loved thee in my childhood, I have loved thee in my youth, I have loved thee when thy savageness was tearing mast and side; Still looking on thy bosom as a mirror cast by truth, Where man might see his littleness and grow asham'd of pride. I have thought upon thy nature, but have found all efforts vaiu, To make myself acquainted with the changes thou hast seen; I have heard of mighty cities, but could find no stone remain To point me with a certainty where such a one has been. But I loved thee in my boyhood, and will love thee in my age, Thou vast unconquer'd element, which man would vainly brave! And when my weary spirit has obtain'd her skyward gage, Oh, in some of thy recesses, let my body find a grave. =======L C Denovan. THE MITHERLESS BAIRN. WHEN a' ither bairnies are hush'd to their hame, By aunty, or cousin, or frecky grand-dame, Wha stands last an' lanely, an' sairly forfairn? 'Tis the puir dowie laddie - the mitherless bairn! The mitherless bairnie creeps to his lane bed, Nane covers his cauld back, or haps his bare head; His wee hackit heelies are hard as the airn, An' lithless the lair o' the mitherless bairn! Aneath his cauld brow, siccan dreams hover there, O' hands that wont kindly to kaim his dark hair! But mornin' brings clutches, a' reckless an' stern, That lo'e na the locks o' the mitherless bairn! The sister wha sang o'er his saftly rock'd bed, Now rests in the mools where their mammie is laid; While the father toils sair his wee bannock to earn, An' kens na the wrangs o' his mitherless bairn. Her spirit that pass'd in yon hour of his birth, Still watches his lone horn wand'rings on earth, Recording in heaven the blessings they earn, Wha couthilie deal wi' the mitherless bairn! Oh! speak him na harshly-he trembles the while, He bends to your bidding, and blesses your smile:- In their dark hour o' anguish, the heartless shall learn, That God deals the blow for the mitherless bairn! =======William Thom- THE AULD MAN'S LAMENT. MY Beltane o' life and my gay days are gene, And now I am feckless and dowie alane; And my Lemmas o' life, wi' its wearifu' years, Like Lemmas, has brought me its floods and its tears. Full three score and ten times the gowan has spread, Since first o'er the greensward wi' light foot I sped; And three score and ten times the blue bells ha'e blawn. Since to pu' them I first spankit blythe o'er the lawn. The burn-banks I lo'ed when a callan' to range, And the ferny-clad braes, a' seem eerie and strange; The burn seems less clear, and the lilt nae sae blue, But it's aiblins my auld een that dinna tell true. The mates o' my young days are a' wede awa', They are missed in the meadow and missed in the shaw; Like the swallows, they've fled when youth's warm days are gane, And I'm left like a wing'd ane a' winter alane. It seems short to look back since my Peggy was young, Then bonnie she leukit, and blythely she sung; But my Peggy has left me, and gane wi' the lave, And the night-wind moans dreary o'er Peggy's lone grave. See yon aged hawthorn that bends o'er the burn! Its wind-scattered blossoms can never return; They are swept to the sea, o'er the wild roarin' linn, Like my friends wha ha'e flourished and died ane by ane. THE SOUTHLAN' BREEZE. Blaw saft, blaw saft, thou southlan' breeze, =Blaw saft, and bring to me A love-breath frae her balmy lips =That wons in yon countrie; A warm love-breath, a' redolent =O' beauty and o' bloom, A fragrance far surpassing flowers- =The laden heart's perfume. You'll meet her at the break o' morn =Upon the bloomy knowes, And when the dewy gloamin' fa's, =Amang the bleatin' ewes. You'll ken her by her winsom' gait, =As she gaes o'er the lea; You'll ken her by her lang brown locks- =Her voice a' melody. O! southlan' breeze, I marvel not =That you are saft and sweet, For, as you cross'd the heather braes, =My lassie you would meet: You'd touzle a' her bosom charms, =You'd kiss her cheek, her mou':- O balmy, blissfu', southlan' breeze, =I would that I were you =======W. Ferguson. SPRING. A NURSERY SONG. THE Spring comes linkin' and jinkin' thro' the wuds, Saftenin' and openin' bonny green and yellow buds; There's flowers, an' showers, an' sweet sang o' little bird, An' the gowan, wi' his red croon, peepin' thro' the yird. The hail comes rattlin' and brattlin' snell an' keen, Daudin' an' blaudin', tho' red set the sun at e'en; In bonnet an' wee loof the weans kep an' look for mair- Dancin' thro'ther wi' the white pearls shinin' in their hair. We meet wi' blythesome an' kythsome cheerie weans, Daffin' an' laughin' far a-down the leafy lanes, Wi' gowans and butter-cups buskin' the thorny wands- Sweetly singin', wi' the flower-branch wavin' in their hands. 'Boon a' that's in thee, to win me,sunny Spring- Bricht clude an' green buds, and sangs that the birdies sing- Flow'r-dappled hill-side, and dewy beech sae fresh at e'en- Or the tappie-toorie fir-tree shinin' a' in green- Bairnies-bring treasure an' pleasure mair to me- Stealin' an' speelin' - up to fondle on my knee; In Spring-time the young things are bloomin' sae fresh an' fair, That I canna Spring but love, and bless thee evermair. =======William Miller. WHISTLE-BINKIE. FIFTH SERIES. TEXAN CAMP SONG. AIR - "_Kelly-burn Braes._" OUR rifles are ready, =And ready are we, Neither fear, care, nor sorrow, =In this companie! Our rifles are ready =To welcome the foe: So away o'er the blue wave =For Texas we go,- For Texas, the land =Where the bright rising star Leads to beauty on peace, =And to glory on war. With aim never erring, =We bring down the deer- We chill the false heart of =The red man with fear. The blood of the Saxon =Flows full in the veins Of the lads that must lord =Over Mexico's plains; O'er the plains where the breeze =Of the south woos the flowers, As we press those we love =In their sweet summer bowers. One pledge to our loves! =When the combat is done, They shall share the broad lands =Which the rifle has won; No tear on their cheeks, =Should we sleep with the dead- There are rovers to follow =Who will still go a-head!- Who will still go a-head =Where the bright rising star Leads to beauty in peace, =And to glory in war. =======Will. Kennedy. THE SALMON RUN. AIR - "_The Brave old Oak._" =OH! away to the Tweed, =To the beautiful Tweed, My much loved native stream, =Where the fish from his hold, ='Neath some cataract bold, Starts up like a quivering gleam. =To the Tweed, then, so pure, =Where the wavelets can lure The King of the waters to roam, =As he shoots far and free, =Through the boundless sea, To the halls of his silvery home. =From his iron-bound keep, =Far down in the deep, He holds on his sovereign sway- =Or darts like a lance, =Or the meteor's glance, Afar on his bright-wing'd prey. =As he roves through the tide, =Then his clear glitt'ring side Is burnish'd with silver and gold; =And the sweep of his flight =Seems a rainbow of light, As again he sinks down in his hold. =Oh! then hasten with speed =To the clear running Tweed, The river of beauty and song, =Where the rod swinging high =Throws a Coldstream dress'd fly O'er the hold of the salmon so strong. =With a soft western breeze =That just thrills through the tress And ripples the beautiful bay, =Throw the fly for a lure- =That's a rise! strike him sure- A clean fish - with a burst he's away. =Hark! the ravel line sweel, =From the fast whirring reel, With a music that gladdens the ear; =And the thrill of delight, =In that glorious fight, To the heart of the angler is dear. =Hold him tight! - for the leap; =Where the waters are deep Give out line in the far steady run; =Reel up quick, if he tire, =Though the wheel be on fire, For in earnest to work he's begun. =Aroused up at length, =How he rolls in his strength, And springs with a quivering bound. =Then away with a dash, =Like the lightning's flash, Far o'er the smooth pebbly ground. =Though he strain on the thread, =Down the stream with his head- That burst from the run makes him cool- =Then spring out for the land, =On the rod change the hand, And draw down for the deepening pool. =Mark the gleam of his side =As he shoots through the tide- Are the dyes of the dolphin more fair? =Fatigue now begins, =For his quivering fins On the shallows are spread in despair. =His length now we'll stretch =On the smooth sandy beach, With the flap from his gills waxing slow; =The sport of an hour =Spent the strength of his power, And the fresh-water monarch lies low. =======Mr A. Foster. WE'LL A' BE BRAWLY YET. AIR - "_Highland Watch,_" _or March in the 42d Regiment._ AULD Rabbie sat wi' tearfu' een- =Wi' runkled brow, and pale- Lamentin' owre what ance he'd been, =Wi' mony a sich and wail; An' Mirren yerk't her spinning wheel, =An' tauld him no to fret, Quo' she, "Tho' poortith sair we feel, =We'll a' be brawly yet." "O Mirren! Mirren! forty years =Wi' mony a stormy blast- Tho' lyart noo wi' toil and tears- =Thegither we ha'e past, Since first the simmer sun o' life =On our young hopes has set;- Then dinna tell me noo, gudewife, =That we'll be brawly yet." "Gudeman! gudeman! frae e'en to morn ='Bout warldly gear ye pine, An' sae wad ye had ye been born =To heir a gowden mine; Ha'e we no had o' health our share?- =An' aften ha'e ye set A wilfu' snare for grief and care- =But we'll be brawly yet!" "O tell na me o' what I've been, =Owre what I'm left to mourn; O tell na me that sunken een =Can e'er to joy return. Nor can this heart renew its life, =These lyart locks their Jet; Then dinna tell me noo, gudewife, =That we'll be brawly yet." "O feckless eild, can e'er ye look =Wi' pleasure owre the past? Or smile on memory's sakeless book =When cluds your joys o'ercast? The bairns that cheer'd our lichtsome hearth =How can I e'er forget?- They're gane! an' lown's the voice o' mirth, =Or we'd be brawly yet." "Gudeman, gae lift your thochts aboon =This cauldrife warld o' care, An' seek through Gude, baith late an' soon, =A balm for your despair; An' let ilk qualm o' youthfu' shame =We' penitence be met; Nae mair your luckless fortune blame, =An' we'll be brawly yet." "My ain gudewife! my dear gudewife! =Nae mair any fallin's name; I'll bless, through a' my after life, =The day I brought ye hame To be a leadin' star to me; =Then ne'er again I'll fret, To a' your wishes I'll agree- =-An' we'll be brawly yet." =======John Crawford. FLOWN AWA ARE FROSTS AN' SNAWS. AIR - "_Willie Wastle dwalt on Tweed_." FLOWN awa are frosts and snaws; =Thrifty Winter, auld an' duddie, Has op'd her drawers to air her braws, =Whilk Spring has stown to clead her bodie: Wi' glaikit air, Spring hers and there =In spite o' Winter's snaw-white napery, Strew'd early flowers round cottage bow'rs, =And meadows dress'd in spangled drapery. The sharp-nos'd ghaist-gleed Winter snell, =Couldna sit down and see sic waistry; Sae out she spak wi' gousty yell, =And storm'd and grat sleet cauld and blaistry, Spring, thoughtless gilpy, leugh and sang, =The very birds join'd in the chorus, Till canker'd Winter found ere lang =She be't tie up her bull-dog Bor'as. Thus, the twa fought, till in danced May, =Spring's laughing, coaxing, rose-lip'd sister, Wha fleech'd dame Winter, turned the day- =I'm tauld, but scarce believe't, she kiss'd her! Be that as't will; thae sisters fair =Deck'd a' the loan in brew new bravery, An' ne'er wad stint. It grieves me sair, =To speak o' Farmer Autumn's knavery; Tho' neibour he to Spring and May, =He pu'd their flow'rs, stole a' their fruit, Thrasht out their corn - indeed, they say, =He sang while doin't - menseless lout. A claver gangs, this wealthy carle =Has thoughts o' weddin' carlin Winter; Waes me! far frae this heartless warl' =May's gane, nor left sweet Spring behint her. =======James Mauson. MY GUID COAT O' BLUE. AIR - "_The Lass o' Glenshee._" THE blue-bell was gane, and the bloom aff the heather; =My cleedin' was thin, and my purse wasna fu'; I felt, like the glass, ev'ry change o'the weather, =And wish'd in my heart for a guid coat o' blue. But fair fa' our wife, aye sae thrifty and kin'ly, =As soon as she kent o' the wind piercin' through, She ran to the wabster and fitted me finely, =And laid round my shouthers a guid coat o' blue. And fair fa' the tailor, our ain honest Sandy, =He's gi'en me braw room in't, he ever cuts true; I'm no clippit aff like a daft idle dandie, =But gaucie and tosh in my guid coat o' blue, I like weel to look on the fine glossy face o't; =I like weel to straik it, sae sleekit the woo; I wish I may aye get as guid in the place o't; =I'm ilka way pleas'd wi' my braw coat o' blue. Now dark gloomy Winter may rant, rage, and rustle, =And frae his hail-granaries wild tempests brew, I carena for him nor his snaw blasts a whistle, =For weel lined wi' plaidin's my guid coat o' blue. Nae mair will I dread the white tap o' Benledi, =Or sigh when the snaw-cover'd Ochils I view; I've often been lag, but for ance I am ready, =Weel happit and snug in a guid coat o' blue. I wish a' the world were just aye as weel theekit, =Wi' health, milk, and meal, and potatoes enow, Then if they'd complain they should a' be well licket- =For me, I am proud o' my guid coat o' blue, But weary-fu' pride, for it's never contented, =Ilk ane maun be dreat now in fine Spanish woo; The warld was far better at first when I kent it, =Wi' warm plaidin'-hose and a guid coat o' blue. Leeze me on auld Scotland, may nae ill assail her; =Leeze me on auld fashions - I laugh at the new; A fig for the fallow that's made by the tailor; =Gi'e me sense and worth in a guid coat o' blue. We fret at the taxes, and taxes are mony, =The meal whites is dear, and we've ill winning through; But daft silly pride is the warst tax o' ony, =We'll no be content wi' a gude coat o' blue. =======John Paterson. SPUNK PETER. AIR - "_The Lowland Lads think they are fine_." NAE kindred had Peter to sigh o'er his bier, =Nae mockery o' woe, and nae emblems o' weeping; The breeze was the sigh, and the rain-drap the tear, =That fell on the grave where auld Peter was sleeping. Yet he had been blessed in his lanely abode =Wi' comforts that aye made his cup taste the sweeter, Contentment and peace lightened life's weary load, =And buskit wi' flowers the rough road to auld Peter. Nae beggar was he! he had matches to sell, =As up stairs an' down stairs he tirled at our latches, And ilka kind neibour their virtues would tell, =Wha lighted her ingle wi' auld Peter's matches. He stood at the door wi' his hat in his hand, =When cam' the guidwife wi' his best bow he'd greet her, And speer for their welfares sae courteous and bland- =The pink o' politeness was honest Spunk Peter! His lang matted locks were as white as the snaw, =A staff in his hand, and a cloak owre his shouther; Wi' basket an' matches he hirpled awa, =And aye gaed his rounds through the roughest o' weather. Though lanely auld poortith be saddest of woes, =Yet to show how a friendless auld mortal could meet her, Contentment and patience till life's latest close =Proclaimed to the world so example in Peter! The dogs wagg'd their tails as the auld man drew nigh; =E'en ill-manner'd curs that would bark at a beggar, Would ne'er gi'e a grumble as Peter gaed bye, =Sae familiar they grew wi' his face and his figure. The bairns gathered round him and keek't in his face, His kind-hearted looks made the rudest discreeter; He gae each a spunk - but he gae't wi' a grace =That won their affections for kindly auld Peter. He liked a wee drap-but he never gat fou- =His blood it was thin and his banes they were weary, And his spirit revived, like a flower in the dew, =When owre his lane ingle it made him mair cheery. Wi' glorious old Nelson he sailed on the main, =When his spirits were young, and his limbs they were fleeter, An' dreams o' his youth then would flit o'er the brain, =And light up the eye of the gallant Spunk Peter! But lucifer-matches destroyed his auld trade; =The march o' improvement brings sad innovation! The brimstone was bankrupt-the tinder-box fled- =The flint and the frizzle gaed clean out o' fashion. The new-fangled ferlies fuft up in a low! =And then-just to make sic a change the completer- Grim Death laid his hand on the weary auld pow, =And blew out the spunk o' the leal-hearted Peter! =======Alex Lmark. NAEBODY KENS YE. AIR - "_Hooly and Fairly_." ARE ye doin' ought weel? - are ye thrivin', my man? =Be thankfu' to Fortune for a' that she sen's ye; Ye'll ha'e plenty o' frien's aye to offer their han', =When ye needna their countenance - a' body kens ye; ====A' body kens ye, ====A' body kens ye, =When ye needna their countenance - a' body ken's ye. But wait ye a wee, till the tide tak's a turn! =An' an' wi' the ebb drifts the favours she len's ye, Cauld frien'ship will then leave ye lanely to mourn; =When ye need a' their frien'ship, then naebody kens ye; ====Naebody kens ye, &c. The crony wha stuck like a burr to your side, =An' vow'd wi' his heart's dearest bluid to befrien' ye; A five-guinea note, man! will part ye as wide =As if oceans and deserts were lyin' between ye! ====Naebody kens ye, &c. It's the siller that does't, man! the siller! the siller! =It's the siller that breaks ye! an' mak's ye, an' men's ye; When your pockets are toom an' nae wab i' the loom, =Then tak' ye my word for't there's naebody kens ye; ====Naebody kens ye, &c. But thinkna I mean that a' mankind are sae- =It's the butterfly-frien's that misfortune should fear, aye- There are those worth the name, Gude sen' there were mae! =Wha, the caulder the blast, aye the closer draw near ye; ====Naebody kens ye, &c. The friend wha can tell us our fau'ts to our face, =But aye frae our foes in our absence defen's us, Leeze me on sic hearts! o' life's pack he's the ace =Wha scorns to disown us when naebody kens us. ====CHORUS. =Naebody kens us, naebody kens us, ==Poortith's a dry-nurse frae folly whilk speans us- =She deprives us o' means, just to show us our frien's, ==Wha winna disown us when naebody kens us. =======Robert L. Malone. WHEN HER MINNIE DISNA KEN. AIR - "_When the kye come hame._" O BONNIE is the gowanie that blooms upo' the lea, Wi' the dew-drap in its bosom, when the sun fa's i' the sea; An' canty sings the burnie as it wimples down the glen, Where I meet my bonnie lassie when her minnie disna ken, =When her minnie disna ken, when her minnie disna ken, =Where I meet my bonnie lassie when her minnie disna ken. The bat he lo'es the gloamin', an' the lav'rock lo'es the morn, The howlet lo'es the mirky night, the lintwhite Io'es the thorn; But I lo'e the bonnie lassie mair wha wons in yonder glen, For she meets me by the burnie when her minnie diana ken, =When her minnie disna ken, when her minnie disna ken, =For she meets me by the burnie when her minnie disna ken. She comes whene'er the peesweep sings his lane sang in the air, An' ae blink o' her bonnie face frees me o' warld's care; The buffs frae cauld misfortune's blasts can hardly gar me ben', As I meet my bonnie lassie when her minnie disna ken; =When her minnie disna ken, when her minnie disna ken =As I meet my bonnie lassie when her minnie diana ken. =======A. Blair. THE HIGHLANDER'S WELCOME TO THE QUEEN AIR - "_Donald M' Donald_." COME Tuncan, what for you be snorin'? =Get up man, an' on wi' your praw, Your kilt, an' your hose, an' your sporran, =Your plaid an' your ponnet and a'; Our Queen - pless her leddyship's clory, =Is coming to see us ev'n noo, _Cresorst!_ tere pe Lauchie an' Rory, =An' a' ta lads waitin' 'pon you. ==T'en hoogh for her ponnie young Queen! ==An' heigh for her ponnie young Queen! ==Go, sought all ta Heelan' an' Lawlan', ==A prettier never was seen. Our Queen, she pe Queen o' ta Heelan', =An' Queen o' La Lawlan' peside, T'en quha wad refuse her a sheelin' =To shield her as lang as she'll pide. Our faithers wad shelter Prince Sharlie, =Poor lad, quhan she had not a hame: Nainsell love her Queen so sincerely, =T'at for her she'll shust tid tat same. ==T'en hoogh for her ponnie braw Queen! ==An' heigh for her ponnie praw Queen! ==Ta Heelanmans ne'er pe tisloyal, ==Though change o' ta race she has seen. Our chiefs, how their clans they be gather, =A' trest in their tartans sae praw, To welcome our Queen to ta heather, =An' ponnie Prince Alpert an' a'. My sang! he's a fine tecent laddie, =As praw as Prince Sharlie himsel', An' sets, too, him's ponnet and plaidie, =As weel as ta laird o' Dunkel'. ==T'en hoogh for our ponnie young Queen ==An' heigh for our ponnie young Queen! ==Let's gie her ta grand Heelan welcome, ==Ta kindest t'at ever has peen. Cot pless you, our ponnie young leddy, =If you'll 'mang ta Heelan' remain, Our hearts an' claymores will be ready, =Your honours an' rights to maintain. Ta Gael has a hand for him's friend aye, =An' likewise a hand for him's foe; Ta Gael, your dear sel' she'll defend aye, =An' guard you wherever you go. ==T'en welcome our ponnie young Queen! ==Thrice welcome our ponnie young Queen! ==Ta Gael may be rude in him's manner, ==But quhar is ta warmer heart seen? =======Alex Rodger. A VOICE FROM HOLYROOD. AIR - "_My ain Fireside_." I CANNA weel greet, for my heart is owre sair; The days they are gane that shall come never mair. I canna weel sab, for my breast is owre fou, When I feel what I ha'e been an what I am noo. =An' O! 'mang the gallant, the fair, an' the good, =There's surely ae tear for puir auld Holyrood. I deck't my auld pow in a rich wreath o' braws; I set my auld throne up, an' burnish'd my wa's; I keek't in my glass, and I thought me sae fine, My auld heart grew young, an' I dream't o' langsyne. =An' O! I was vogie, and O! I was proud, =While speering mysel' - "Are ye auld Holyrood?" When we think oursel's meikle we are whiles unco wee, Death stalked through my court, when my yett stood ajee; He cover'd my towers wi' his black sable wings, An' whisper'd - "I bide nae for Queens or for Kings. =Your bonny young Queen maunna brave my dark mood, =Keep _her_ frae the deadshade that wraps Holyrood." Auld Scotia's lang tongue shouts wi' loud trumpet din, "Gae open your Palace yetts, let your Queen in." She comes at the summons-but heaves a sad sigh, The hame of her faithers she's forced to pass by. =Her e'e fills to look at the black ribbon'd sliced, =That haps up the high head o' auld Holyrood. I ferlie, gin e'er she will come back again, To stay in the courts and the ha's o' her ain; Though strangers be kindly, ye canna for shame Spier them for the comforts ye ha'e when at hame. =She's feasted by nobles, and cheered by the crowd- =But she finds nae a hame like her ain Holyrood. =======James Ballantine. THE QUEEN O' BONNY SCOTLANDS A MITHER LIKE MYSEL'. _Music by W. M'Leod._ THERE'S walth o' themes in Scotland, =That ham'art tongue might sing Wi' glee sae canty, that wad mak' =Its laneliest valleys ring; But there is ana I dearly lo'e =In wimplin' sang to swell- The Queen o' bonny Scotland's =A mither like mysel'. Her wee bit rumlin' roguie, =When rowin' on her knee, Or cuddlin' in her bosie, =Win gladden heart an' e'e, Wi' kissin' owre an' owre again, =His rosy cheeks will tell- The Queen o' bonny Scotland's =A mither like mysel'. She kens fu' weel how tenderly =A mither dauts her wean, And a' the hinnied words that fa' =Atween them when alane; Oh! if I were but near her, =O' breadless bairns to tell, She'd listen, for our bonny Queen's =A mither like mysel' Then come to bonny Scotland, =There's no a neuk in't a', Frae hill to haugh, that disna bear =Baith buirdly men and braw; They'll welcome you to Scotland- =The thistle and blue-bell- And ye'se be bless'd by women-fock, =And mithers like yoursel'. =======William Miller. THE WINTER HAS SET IN, LADS. AIR - "_Calder Fair._" THE winter has set in, lads, but what care we for frost, Its snaw'y doublet, icy trews, its croighle or its hoast, For I opine we can contrive to brew wi' little din A cup, tho' ne'er so cauld without, will mak us warm within. Then, kimmer, tak' the pint stoup, and bring it reaming ben, This moment is our ain, for the neist-we dinna ken. And rax me owre your haun, man, my auld, my trusty frien', May the warst o' a' our days be bye-the days that we ha'e seen. What though our way in life through the brambles may have been, Yet here and there a rose 'mang the prickles we have seen. We a' ha'e had our troubles, sirs, but wherefore should we fret?- In spite o' a' that's come and gane, we're here to tall them yet. And sae we'll aye keep up our hearts, though fortune whiles may jar- There never was an ill but there micht ha'e been a waur. As lang's we ha'e our health and our cantie wifie's smile, We've something left to sweeten life, and lichten a' our toil. May the Hand that led us hitherto, support and lead us still, And grant us a'e sweet sunny blink to licht us doun the hill And when we're ca'd awa' at last, unsullied be our fame, And by them we leave ahint us lane cherish'd be our name. =======Wm. Finlay. SONG OF THE SPIRIT-LYRE. AIR - "_Hark! the hollow woods resounding._" CHORUS. ==FAIRY hands my wires are sounding, ===In the greenwood merrily; ==Light feet to my notes are bounding, ===Which no mortal eye can see. Wandering thoughts and lovers' dreamings =Are the guardians of my shrine; Maidens' smiles and fancy's beamings =Lend my frame their light divine, love's first whispers, ere they're spoken, =Blossom in my airy hall; But when early vows are broken, =Sighs of sorrow roond me fall. ==Fairy hands my wires are sounding, &c. Hopes that once in youth were blighted, =Seeking where sweet Peace may dwell, By Despair and Time benighted, =Find a shelter 'neath my spell. O'er their tear-dewed lonely pillow =Oft I pour my midnight lay, Soft as when the weeping willow =Breathes its hymn at close of day. ==Fairy hands my wires are sounding, &c. Voices whose loved tones have faded =On the lonely mourner's ear; Life-gleams, which the grave hath shaded, =In their wanderings linger near; Whilst the Spirit of Affection =Plumes awhile its golden wings, And the strains of pale Dejection =Pour in ripplings from my strings. ==Fairy hands my wires are sounding, &c. By the nameless tomb my numbers =Murmur like the sighs of spring, And, 'midst mem'ry's deepest slumbers, =Oft my magic power I fling. Virtue's throbbings, when forsaken, =Mingle with my votive swell; When the chords of life are shaken, ='Tis my voice alone can tell. ==Fairy hands my wires are sounding, &c. In the woodland's deep recesses, =O'er the broken heart I mourn, When the hand of Sorrow presses =Life from out its fragile urn; When Devotion's soul is kneeling =By the altar's vestal fire, In each prayerful burst of feeling, =Speaks the mystic Spirit-lyre. ==Fairy hands my wires are sounding, &c. =======John Lamuer. THE LYART AN' LEAL. AIR - "_The Banks of the Devon_." "GUIDMAN," quo' the wifie, "the cauld sough blaws eerie, Gae sleek ye the winnock, for danger I dree; Ihe bluidhounds o' Clavers, forebodin' an' dreary, I've heard on the blast owre the snaw-covert lea- A stranger I've seen through the dusk o' the gloamin', Uncovert I saw the auld wanderer kneel; My heart fill'd, as waefu' I heard him bemoanin' The cauld thrawart fate o' the lyart an' leal. The bleeze frae the ingle rose sparklin' an' cantie, The clean aiken buffet was set on the floor; She thoughtna her ark o' the needfu' was scanty, But sigh'd for the wanderer she saw on the moor. "Ah! wae for the land whar the cauld cliffs maun shelter The warm heart that wishes our puir kintra weel: In thy bluid, bonny Scotland, the tyrant maun welter, The faggot maun bleeze roun' the lyart and leal." The tear owre her cheek row'd-the aumry stood open- She laid out her sma' store wi sorrowfu' heart- The guidman a grace owre the mercies had spoken, Whan a tirl at the door made the kin' wifie start. "I'm weary," a voice cried, "I'm hameless and harmless, The cauld wintry blast, oh! how keenty I feel- I'm guiltless, I'm guileless, I'm friendless, an' bairnless. Nae bluid's on my hands," quo' the lyart an' leal. "Ye're welcome, auld carle, come ben to the ingle, For snell has the blast been, an' cauld ye maun be; In the snaw-drift sae helpless ye gar'd my heart dinnel- Ye'll share our puir comforts, tho' scanty they be. A warm sowp I've made ye, expectin' your comin', Life you for the waes o' puir Scotland we feel, But death soon will end a' our wailin' an' moanin', An' youth come again to the lyart an' leal." She dichted a seat for the way-wearit stranger, An' smilin' he sat himsel' down by the hearth- "The Man wha our sins bore was laid in a manger, Nae Prelate proclaim'd the mild innocent's birth." Thus spak' the auld wanderer, his een glist'n't wildly, A sigh then eseap'd for the cause he lo'ed weel, The wifie drew closer, and spak' to him mildly, But breathless an' cauld was the lyart an' leal. =======John Crawford. AN AULD MAN'S LOVE SONG. AIR - "_Tha mi-tinn-leis a Ghaol." BONNIE, modest, glimmerin' star, =Glintin' through the cluds o' life, Thy waukrife care, baith near an' far, =Aye guides me safe through warldly strife. Thy kindly beam, thro' winters cauld, =An' bitin' breath frae bleak nor'-east, Keeps me fu' cozie, mak's me bauld =To face what fate may send me neist. The girnin' miser owre his wealth =Site cowrin', shilpit, hungry, fear't- Gowd-sickness gnaws him; I hae health =And wealth, nor dreid the reiver near't. O Jessie dear! my star art thou! =Aye cheery in our canty bield; Thy smile that jinks about thy mou' =Whed me in youth, charms me in eild. And O thy worth! my wine dear, =I'll never bow at Mammon's shrine, For aye it grows frae year to year, =Thy truth is wealth-that wealth is mine. For faithfu' love shines in thine e'e, =And honour's sel' lives in thy breast, An' ilk sweet bairnie on thy knee =Makes thee mair true, and me mair blest. =======James Mauson THE FALCON'S FLIGHT. AIR - "_There's nae luck about the House._" I SING of gentle woodcroft gay, for well I love to rove With the spaniel at my side and the falcon on my glove; For the noble bird which grac'd my hand I feel my spirit swell, Arrayed in all her hunting gear, hood, jessy, leish, and bell. I have watch'd her through the moult, till her castings all were pure, And have steep'd and clean'd each gorge ere 'twas fix'd upon the lure; While now to field or forest glade I can my falcon bring, Without a pile of feather wrong, on body, breast, or wing. When drawn the leish and slipt the hood, her eye beams black and bright, And from my hand the gallant bird is cast upon her flight. Away she darts on pinions free, above the mountains far, Until in less'ning size she seems no bigger than a star. Away, away, in farthest flight, I feel no fear or dread, When a whistle or a whoop brings her toweling o'er my head; While poised on moveless wing, from her voice a murmur swells, To speak her presence near, above the chiming from her bells. 'Tis Rover's bark-halloo! see the broad-wing'd heron rise, And soaring round my falcon queen, above her quarry flies. With outstretch'd neck the wary game shoots for the covert nigh, But o'er him for a settled stoop my hawk a towering high. My falcon's towering o'er him with an eye of fire and pride, Her pinions strong, with one short pull, are gather'd to her side, When like a stone from off the sling, or bolt from out the bow, In meteor flight, with sudden dart, she stoops upon her foe. The vanquish'd and the vanquisher sink rolling round and round, With wounded wing the quarried game falls heavy on the ground. Away, away, my falcon fair, has spread her buoyant wings, While on the ear her silver voice as clear as metal rings. Tho' high her soar, and far her flight, my whoop has struck her ear, And reclaiming for the lure, o'er my head she sallies near. No other sport like falconry can make the bosom glow, When flying at the stately game, or raking at the crow. Who mews a hawk, must nurse her as a mother would her child, And soothe the wayward spirit of a thing so fierce and wild- Must woo her like a bride, while with love his bosom swells For the noble bird that bears the hood, the jessy, leish, and bells. =======Mr A. Foster. THE IMPATIENT LASSIE. CUMBERLAND BALLAD. AIR - "_Low down in the broom._" DEUCE tek the clock, click-clackin sae, =Ay in a body's ear; It tells and tells the teyme is past =When Jwohnny sud been here. Deuce tek the wheel! 'twill nit rin roun'- =Nae mair to-neet I'll spin; But count each minute wid a seegh, =Till Jwohnny he steals in. How neyce the spunky fire it burns, =For twee to sit besyde! And theer's the seat where Jwohnny sits, =And I forget to cheyde! My fadder, tui, how sweet he snwores! =My mudder's fast asleep- He promised oft, but oh! I fear, =His word he wunnet keep. What can it be keeps him frae me? =The ways are nit sae lang! An' sleet an' snow are nought at aw, =It yen wer fain to gang. Some udder lass, wi' bonnier feace. =Has catch'd his wicked e'e, An' I'll be pointed at at kurk- =Nay! suiner let me dee. O durst we lasses nobbet gang =An' sweetheart them we leyke, I'd run to thee, my Jwohnny, lad, =Nor stop at bog or deyke: But custom's sec a silly thing- =Thur men mun ha'e their way, An' monie a bonnie lassie sit, =An' wish frae day to day. I yence hed sweethearts, monie a yen, =They'd weade through muck and mire; And when our fwok wer deed asleep, =Come tremlin' up to t' fire: At lush Carel market lads wad stare, =An' talk, an' follow me; Wi' feyne shwort keakes, aye frae the fair, =Baith pockets cramm'd wad be. O dear! what changes women pruive, =In less than seeben year; I walk the lonnins, owre the muir, =But deil a chap comes near! An' Jwohnny I nee mair can trust- =He's just like aw the lave; I fin' this sairy heart 'll burst! =I'll suin lig i' my grave. But whisht! I hear my Jwohnny's fit- =Ay! that's his varra clog! He steeks the faul yeat softly tut- =Oh! hang that cwoley dog! Now, hey for seeghs an' suggar words, =Wi' kisses nit a few- This warl's a perfect paradise =When lovers they pruive true. =======Robert Anderson. ONE OF THE HEART'S STRUGGLES. AIR - "_Johnnie's Grey Breeks_." O! LET me gang, ye dinna ken =How sair my mither flate yestreen- An', mournin' o'er and o'er again, =Speir'd whaur I gaed sae late at e'en, An' aye I saw her dicht her een- =My very heart maist brak' to see't- I'll byde a flyte tho' e'er sae keen, =But canna, canna thole her greet. O' blessin's guard my lassie's brow, =And fend her couthia heart frae care; Her lowin' breast o' love sae fou- =How can I grudge a mither's share. The hinnysuckle's no sae fair, =In gloamin's dewy pearl weet, As my love's a's when tremblin' there =The tear that owns a mither's greet. A heart a' warmed to mither's love- =O! that's the heart whaur I wad be; An' when a mither's lips reprove, =O! gi'e me then the glist'nin' e'e. For feckless fa's that look on me, =Howe'er sae feigned in cunnin's sweet- And loveless-luckless-is the e'e =That, tearless, kens a mither's greet. =======William Thom- HAME IS AYE HAMELY. AIR - "_Love's Young Dream_." OH! hame is aye hamely still, tho' poor at times it be, An' ye winna find a place like hame in lands beyond the sea; Tho' ye may wander east an' west, in quest o' wealth or fame- There's aye a pulse within the heart, beats hame, hame, hame. Oh! there's aye a pulse within the heart, beats hame, hame, hame. "There's gowd in gowpins got, they say, on India's sunny strand- Then wha would bear to linger here, in this bleak barren land? I'll hie me owre the heaving wave, an' win myself a name, And in a palace, or a grave, forget my Hieland hame." 'Twas thus resolved the peasant boy, and left his native stream, And fortune crown'd his every wish, beyond his fondest dream; His good sword won him wealth and power, and long and loud acclaim, But could not banish from his thoughts his dear loved mountain hame. No! the Peasant's heart within the Peer beat true to nature still, For on his visions oft would rise the cottage on the hill; And young companions, long forgot, would join him in the game, As erst in life's young morning, around his Hieland hame. Oh! In the Brahmin, mild and grey, his father's face he saw,- He thought upon his mother's tear the day he gaed awa', And her he lov'd, his Hieland girl,-there's magic in the name- They a' combine to wile him back to his far Hieland hame. He sigh'd for kindred hearts again, and left the sunny lands, And where his father's cottage stood, a stately palace stands; And with his grandchild on his knee, the old man's heart on flame, 'Tis thus he trains his darling boy to cherish thoughts o' hame. Oh! hame is aye hamely still, tho' poor at times it be, Ye winna find a spot like hame in lands beyond the sea; Oh! ye may wander east or west, in quest o' wealth or fame, But there's aye a pulse within the heart, beats hame, hame, hame, Oh! there's aye a pulse within the heart beats hame, hame. =======Robert L. Malone. THE LADS AND THE LAND FAR AWA'. AIR - "_My Ain Fireside_." WHEN I think on the lads an' the land I ha'e left, An' how love has been lifted, an' friendship been reft, =How the hinnie o' hope has been jumilt in ga', =Then I sigh for the lads and the land far awa'. When I think on the days o' delight we ha'e seen, When the flame o' the spirit would spark in the een, =Then I say, as in sorrow I think on ye a', =Where will I find hearts like the hearts far awa'? When I think on the nights we ha'e spent hand in hand, Wi' mirth for our sowther, and friendship our band, =This warld gets dark, but ilk night has a daw, =An' I yet may rejoice in the land far awa'. =======Hew Ainslie. TO SPEAK TO ME. AIR - "_The boatie rows._" To speak to me o' sic a thing, indeed ye are na blate! I often wonder what ye mean-ye plague me ear' an' late; And though I aye deny ye, still ye winna let me be; Weel, mind, it's just to humour ye, I let ye sit wi' me. The little table we maun set atween us a' the nicht, And I sall ha'e a can'le there to gi'e us pleasant licht; But ye're to keep your distance, now, an' dinna mak' sae free, Sin' it's only just to humour ye, I let ye visit me. Or should there neither boord nor licht come you an' me between, Ye'll keep your arms frae 'bout my neck, nor on my shouther lean; We sall, at least, ha'e seats a piece - I'll no sit on your knee, An', mind, it's just to homour ye, if ye get a kiss o' me. Now, Sandy, a' your tales o' love owre me 'ill ha'e nae sway; I were a fule, would I believe a single word ye say; But if there's nae denyin' ye, an' I should yield a wee- It's no to please mysel', but you, gin e'er we wedded be. =======Robert White. THE LARK M=HATH SOUGHT HIS GRASSY HOME. AIR - "_Charlie is my darling_." O REST a while with me, love, With me, love, with me, love, O rest a while with me, love, ==Home ne'er had charms like this. The breeze that steals so softly by =Hath caught the rose'e kiss; The tear that wets the lily's eye =Is but a drop of bliss =====O rest, &c. The lark hath sought his grassy home, =The bee her eglantine; The silver lamps, in yon blue dome, =Have just begun to shine. O rest a while with me, love, With me, love, with me, love, O rest a while with me, love, ==This breast will pillow thine. =======L C Denovan. NOW ROSY SUMMER LAUGHS IN JOY. AIR - "_Bonnie Jeanie Grey_." Now rosy summer laughs in joy, =O'er mountain, glen, and tree; And drinks the glittering siller dew, =Frae gowans on the lea. Blythe frae the clover springs the lark, =To hymn the op'nin' day; The wee waves dance beneath the sun, =Like bairnies at their play. Now frisks the maukin 'mang the grass, =Nor fears the rustlin' trees; Now linties chant frae ilka spray, =To charm the lingering breeze. Ye gay green larks, your breath is balm,- =Ye stately flowers o' June- Thou little stream, that wimples by, =Thou sings a soothing tune. O sweet Balgove! aboon thy shades =How aft the Star o' Day Has op'd his wauk'nin' e'e to gaze =On whom I daurna say, Now chill rememb'rance, journeying back =O'er weary wastes o' gloom, Rests fondly on the hours we spent =Amang the yellow broom. And ha'e they bonnie walks aboon, =Where my love dwells afar?- Then we may wander yet beneath =A bonnier morning star. Ah! why could Heav'n take my flower,- =Nae fairer flower could blaw? Oh! she was heav'n owre lang to me, =Sae she was ta'en awa'. =======Thomas C. Latte. A HIGHLAND PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. AIR - _Kind reader, when you'll merry be,_ ==_You'll lilt him to the tone_ =_O' "Kilderoy," or "Cramachree,"_ ==_Or "Shon o' Padenyon."_ TWAS whan I left my faither's cot, =Some forty years ago, He said that gear was to be got- =But where I did not know. The world was wide, an' I was young, =A hardy loon an' hale; Besides I had a sleekit tongue =That ne'er was kent to fail. Baith east an' west I glowr'd like daft, =To see what might befa'; For, och! I hated handicraft, =An' manual labours a'. Compell'd at last to catch the plack, =Whatever might betide; I took the elwand an' the pack, =An' tramp'd the kintra side. My mither, as a partin' boon, =Wi' tears intil her e'e, A Bible an' a horn spoon =That day presented me. She squeezed my hand, an' conjured me =To use them baith wi' care; An' _ane_ o' them, as ye may see, =I'm maister o' an' mair. For twenty years, an' somewhat mair, =I wander'd mony a mile, An' faithfully I gather'd gear =By mony a quirk an' wile. At length a sonsy damsel's glance =Gar'd a' my ramblings stop; I woo'd her, for I stood a chance =To heir her faither's shop. Day after day I urged my claim- =O' naething stood in awe- An' in a fortnight I became =A Bailie's son-in-law. By mither-wit, an' norlan' skill, =I seal'd the Council stair, Nor ever look'd behint, until =I filled the Provost's chair! An' I'd ha'e ruled the roast an' race =Until my dyin' day, But, och! the Whigs rush'd into place, =An' made o' us their prey! Come, shentlemens, stan' to your feet- =We'll drink a toss right fittin',- "To a' the laads i' TOWNIN' STREET =An unco speedy flittin'." =======David Nedder. LAMENT FOR THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD. THE last hues of summer are sickly and fading, =And autumn winds hymn the decay of the year; The sere yellow tints all the landscape pervading, =In silence proclaim that the winter draws near. On the far heathy mountain the dark cloud sits brooding, =And slow the mist column rolls up the lone glen; The big rain falls heavy, the streamlets o'erflooding, =And Ettrick rolls on her brown currents again. The summer hath pass'd o'er Yarrow's green mountains, =The birch trembled wild by Loch Mary's lone shore; The winter approaches to bind up the fountains, =But the Bard of the Forest shall cheer us no more. No more shall he stray in the still of the gloaming =To dream of the spirits in lands far away; No more shall he list to the tempest loud moaning, =For the Bard of the Forest lies cold in the clay. He rests with his fathers, no more to awaken =Sweet strains by the streamlets that speed to the main; The wild echo sleeps in the glen of green bracken, =But the Shepherd shall never awake it again. Bloom sweetly around him, ye pale drooping roses, =Breathe softly, ye winds, o'er his cold narrow bed; Fall gently, ye dews, where the minstrel reposes, =And hallow the wild-flowers that wave o'er his heed. =======James Murray. OWRE A' THE SWEEP MAIDENS. AIR - "_Kellyburn Braes_." OWRE a' the sweet maidens in England I've seen, I rank you the fairest, I place you the queen; My love-swelling bosom yields homage to thee- Will ye gang, bonnie lassie, to Scotland wi' me? Dark, dark are your tresses-your wee mouth is meek; On your chin there's a dimple, an' clear is your cheek; Your form is sae gracefu', your step light and free- Come away, lovely lassie, to Scotland wi' me! We'll stray where the wild-wood an' pure waters meet, I'll pu' ye the red rose, an' ilka thing sweet; Our talk of affection an' true love will be- Will ye gang, bonnie lassie, to Scotland wi' me? On banks where the lav'rock sits down on her nest, An' daisies grow thickly, together we'll rest: Ah! mine will be rapture when seated by thee- Come away, dearest lassie, to Scotland wi' me! In dark days o' winter, when angry win's blaw, Our wee house will shield us frae tempest an' snaw; Wi' tale, sang, an' music, the tune we'll gar flee: O! haste ye, sweet lassie, to Scotland wi' me! The clasp o' thy soft hand-this sweet melting kiss- The glance o' thy dark e'e, foretel me o' bliss; Than monarchs or princes mair joyfu' I'll be, When at hame, bonnie lassie, in Scotland wi' thee! =======Robert White. A BONNIE WEE LASSIE. AIR - "_John Todd._" A BONNIE wee lassie I ken, I ken, =A bonnie wee lassie I ken, The blink o' her e'e is heaven to me, An' wow! but she's ane amang ten, amang ten, =An' wow! but she's ane amang ten. A handsome wee lassie I lo'e, I lo'e, =A handsome wee lassie I lo'e, The pawkie wee quean has doiter'd me clean, An' mair mischief she'll work, I trow, I trow, =An' mair mischief she'll work, I trow. A winsome wee lassie I'll woo, I'll woo, =A winsome wee lassie I'll woo, I'll keek in her e'e, an aiblins may pree The wee hinny blobs o' her mou', her mou', =The wee hinny blobs o' her mou'. A mensefu' wee lassie I'll wale, I'll wale, =A mensefu' wee lassie I'll wale, An' sud the wee dear ha'e gowpens o' gear, She'll no be the waur for't, I'se bail, I'se bail, =She'll no be the waur for't, I'se bail. A canty wee lassie I'll wed, I'll wed, =A canty wee lassie I'll wed; An' when she is mine, I'll busk her fu' fine, An' a couthie bit life we'll lead, we'll lead, =An' a couthie bit life we'll lead. =======Edward K, Sloane. LUFF HER UP. AIR - "_The Opera Hat_." LUFF her up, luff her up, keep her sweating in the breeze, Luff her up, luff her up, keep her dipping to the knees! The foemen are out, boys, and we are tearing through, To meet with them, and match them, as Britons should do. Here we go, here we go, like an arrow through the wave! Here we go, here we go, to woo glory or a grave! Here we go, with the wind o'er a full flowing sea, Our faces to the foe, as a Briton's should be. We can die, we can die, without thinking of the pain! We may die, we may die, like true hearts upon the main! We will die ere a foe sets a foot upon our shore, And show him that his path must be through British gore. =======L C Denovan. DREAMS OF ABSENCE. I DREAM'D o' a diamond mine, my love, In the howe o' the broomy hill, Where we used to stray in bairnhood's day, An' gambol an' laugh our fill; An' I pluck'd the bonnie stanes frae their beds, An' ill was I to ser', For they a' had a Iicht like thy een sae bricht, An' I coveted mair an' mair; An' I loaded mysel' wi' the riches o' earth, An', in tremblin' joy o' mind, To thee wad ha'e sped, but the vision fled, An' left me a plackless hind. I dream'd o' a glorious hame, my love, Where the midnicht shone like day, An' music's soun' that thrill'd aroun' Was saft as the voice o' May; An' I was the chief o' that noble ha', Wi' the wide warld's blessin's stored, An' thou wert there, wi' thy smile sae rare, An' I was thy honoured lord. An' on sofa o' silk we twa reclined- But I waked on my couch o' straw, An' the cauld winds did swoof through the rifted roof, An' thou wert far awa'. I anco hoped to be rich, my love, But that was a daft dream, too- I pray'd for a while that fortune micht smile; (Oh, 'twas a' for the sake o' you!) But she's thrown out our lot wi' a frownin' brow, An' sindered us far an' lang, An' the last words ye said were a' that I had To saften my heart's warst pang But, oh, mair dear then the glint o' gowd Is thy look o' love to me! I'll dream nae mair o' wealth or o' care, Now that I'm near to thee. =======Joseph Grant. OH! GIN I WERE TO WED AGAIN. AIR - "_The bonnie Lass o' Livingstone_." OH! gin I were to wed again, =I'll tell you what, I'll tell you what, I'd wale a lass wad lo'e mysel', =Mair then John Maut, mair then John Maut! For every kiss my wife gi'es me, =He gets a score, he gets a score, And I've nae doubt ere lang they'll kiss =Me to the door, me to the door! Morn, night, an' noon-noon, night, an' morn, =She trokes wi' him, she trokes wi him, And scours his bowls, when ither folk =Their house wad trim, their house wad trim. The weans, in tatterwallops a', =Rin wild ther'out, rin wild ther'out, Till aft I'm fain, though sma' my skill, =Their claes to clout, their claes to clout. At ilka ploy, the country round, =She rears an' rants, she roars an' rants, And late and ear' her paramour =Wi' her gallants, wi' her gallants:- She's danc'd the shoon frae aff her feet; =And on her back, and on her back, The remnant o' her waddin' gown, =Hings by a tack, hings by a tack. She turns my pouches inside out, =When I'm asleep, when I'm asleep; And rifles ilka hole an' bore, =Where gear I keep, where gear I keep: And every plack that she can clutch, =On him she'll ware, on him she'll ware; And never fash her thumb though I =Gang toom an' bare, gang toom an' bare. The mice frae out the aumry keek, =Wi' tearfu' e'e, wi' tearfu' e'e; Its breadless boards, ye needna doubt, =They mourn wi' me, they mourn wi' me. Auld baudrons stares me i' the face, =Wi' waefu' mew, wi' waefu' mew; As if she said - "Haith, maister, lad, =You're done for now, you're done for now." And gin I hint my spouse does wrang, =The gude be here, the gude be here! Ye never heard how loud and fierce =She'll storm an' swear, she'll storm an' swear. O! gin I were to wed again, =Believe ye me, believe ye me, Before I buckled wi' the sex, =I'd think a wee, I'd think a wee! =======W. Ferguson. MY AULD AUNTY LIZZIE WAS FAMED FOR A SPINNER. AIR - "_I hae laid a herring in saut_." MY auld aunty Lizzie was famed for a spinner, =An' monie a thread she had drawn in her day, Baith even an' knotty-for know her bread winner =Had a queer fascheous temper-like owre monie mae. At times she wad filst an' wad casten the band, =Then Lizzie wad coax her, as I've heard her tell, Wi' a lick o' sweet oil an' a feeze o' her hand, =She soon brought the dorty jaud back to hersel'. Ilk thing has a reason-this Lizzie saw through, =For the temper was made when the timmer was green; The drouth it jad krin'd up and slacken'd the screw, =Till it lost a' the power o' her toutie machine. Noo, tho' we, like Lizzie, view cause an' effect, =How aft out o' tune gaes our feckless machine, An' for feezin' an' oilin' we've little respect, =Sae cankerd an' crooked's our temper wi' spleen. Baith twitter'd and knotty's the thread o' our life, =An' brittle an' short as we wind up its clew- Sae marled an' mixt 'tis wi' malice an' strife, =That there's scarcely a hauk but is ting'd wi' dark blue. There's temper in matter, and temper in mind, =An' baith frae the forest are ta'en when they're green; An' wi' sma' observation you'll find a' mankind =Are fractious an' toutie as Lizzie's machine. =======Thomas Mather. WOMAN'S WITCHFU' E'E. AIR - "_Comin' through the Eye._" I LIKE the sun that shines sae bricht, =I like the midnicht moon; The stars that gem the Milky Way, =An' a' the orbs aboon, I like to see the mornin' star =Blink bonnie owre the sea; But there's an orb outshines them a'- ='Tis woman's witchfu' e'e. Ae beam o' love frae that blest orb =Gi'es youth a livelier hue, An' drives awa' the clouds o' fate =Frae sorrow's sickly brow; Dispels the darkest shades o' woe =The heart is doom'd to dree; There's no an orb in yonder sky =Like woman's witchfu' e'e. 'Tis there the heart pours forth the woes, =Owre sad for tongue to share; The tears o' love, and pity's tears, =Speak nameless secrets there: 'Tis there the trembling lover reads =The soul's sincerity; O, whar's the orb in yonder sky =Like woman's witchfu' e'e! Ye powers that watch my countless steps, =An' a' my wand'rings ken, In this my weary pilgrimage, =In pleasure or in pain; Whare'er my hameless feet may roam, =Whate'er I'm doom'd to dree, O, let me live beneath the licht =O' woman's witchfu' e'e! THOCHTFU' LOVE AIR - "_Jessie the Flower o' Dumblane_." How aft, when the saft winds o' simmer were blawin', =I wander'd wi' Jeanie by bonnie Woodside, When pearly dew-blabs in the gloamin' were fa'in', =An' Kelvin creep'd croonin' awa' to the Clyde: The wee birds, then wearied, were nestled and sleepin', =The sough o' the waterfa' blent wi' the breeze That fann'd us sae gently, as light it gaed sweepin' =O'er the harp-strings o' nature, the boughs o' the trees. We wended awa' to our leaf-theekit shielin', =A cozie wee bield whaur the cauldest micht woo, Frae whose mossy couch we could see the moon speelin' =Her way far on high, through the starnie deep blue: At our feet, on the grassy bank, like a wee rosie, =The red-tappit gowans lay droukit in dew, Like bairnies asleep in a mither's saft bozie, =Or me in the arms o' the lassie I lo'e. How fain was our wooin', when silence was reignin', =A' blent wi' the glint o' the bonnie white moon; An', lull'd wi' its stillness, our spirits were twinin' =Deep love 'tween oursels an' the warl aroun'. But winter has come noo, grim, darksome, and scowrie, =In blatt'rin' cauld rain an' hail, pourin' its spleen; Its stoor frosty winds ha'e untheekit our bowrie, =An' refted the sward o' its bonny bricht green. But tho' its blast rides the ridge o' the mountain, =An' scampers in mirth owre the breast o' the lea. An' leaves a cauld cloak on the burn an' the fountain- =It cools nae the love atween Jeanie an' me. At the close o' the day, in her father's low dwellin', =We meet as we met aye, as happy an' calm; We lo'e and we lang for the spring, again swellin' =The buds till they burst wi' the wealth o' their balm. =======A. BUCHANAN WHISTLIN' TAM. AIR - "_Come under my plaidy_." KEND ye little Tammy wha lived on the knowe, Mang the woods o' Drumcuthlie, whare blaeberries grow? His bonnet was aye cockit heigh on his brow, A queer lookin' carlie was Tammy, I trow. He was ca'd Whistlin' Tam 'cause he had sic a gait o't, An' nae muckle ferlie his mou' had the set o't, And gang whar he likit he ne'er miss'd a bit o't, Aye whoo ye, whoo, whoo ye, sowth'd Whistlin' Tam. An' Meg, his gudewife, wi' her twa-handit wheel, Span mony braw wabs o' baith plainen and tweel; Baith bodies toil'd sair to mak' gowd in a lump, But Maggie was counted the slang o' the trump. A sma' shop they keepit, twa kye an' a mare; For the peats were to lead, and the land was to ear, An' hame frae the bruch, wi' the gudes and the gear, Hipp, Mally! whoo, whoo ye, cam' Whistlin' Tam. Their ae dautit laddie, their hope an' their care, I' the bruch at the schulin' was drill'd lang an' sair; White three sonsie cummers at hame had, I ween, Mony trysts wi' the lads, i' the plantin' at e'en. Young Meg an' the miller were buckled wi' ither; Soon after the cobbler and Kate gaed thegither; But Nekk miss'd that luck, to the grief o' her mither, While whoo ye, whoo, whoo ye, sowth'd Whistlin' Tam. Some neibours wad threep - but 'twas maybe no true - That Tam i' the kirk gied a whoo ye, whoo whoo! When the lettergae, tryin' new tunes, wad gae wrang, Or the parson was prosy and keepit them lang. Young Jamie took on wi' the red-coated train, And fell i' the front o' the tulzie in Spain, His poor dowie mither made nae little mane, But whoo ye, whoo, whoo ye, sowth'd Whistlin' Tam. As blawin' spring morning Tam's biggin' took fire, An' the lowe spread aroun' to the barn an' the byre; The neibours cam' rinnin' to help wi' gudewill, But the blaze gaed aboon a' their maughts an' their skill. Alack! for the sufferers there was nae remeid, Night cam', an' they hadna a roof owre their head, Nor blanket to hap them, nor bannock o' bread- Yet whoo ye! whoo, whoo ye! sowth'd Whistlin' Tam! =======John Watson. MY HAME. AIR - "_Annie Laurie_." O! I ha'e loved the heather hills, =Whar simmer breezes blaw, An' I ha'e loved the glades that gang =Through yonder greenwood shaw; But noo the spot maist dear to me =Is whar the moon doth beam Doon through the sleepin' leaves, to watch =My ain wee cantie hame. My cantie hame! its roof o' strae, =Aneath yon thorn I see- Yon cozie bush that couthie keeps =My wife an' bairnies three. There's green garse roun' my cottage sma, =An' by it rins a stream Whilk ever sings a bonnie sang, =To glad my cantie hame. When delvin' i' the sheugh at e'en, =Its curlin' reek I see, I ken the precious things at hame =Are thinkin' upon me. I ken my restin' chair in set =Whar comes the warmest gleam- I ken there's langin' hearts in thee, =My ain wee cantie hame. O! can I do but love it weel, =When a' thing's luvesome there? My cheerfu' wife, my laughin' weans, =The morn and e'enin' prayer; The sabbath'n walk amang the woods, =Or by the saut-sea faem- The warst o' hearts may learn to lo'e =My ain wee cantie hame. The blessin's o' a hame-bless'd heart =Be warm upon it a',- On wife an' bairns may love an' peace, =Like sunbeams, joyous fa'! Blythe thochts are rinnin' through my heart, =O! thochts I canna name- See glad are they - while thinkin' o' =My ain wee cantie hame. I NEVER WILL GET FU' AGAIN. AIR - "_My wife's aye teazing me_." I'M sick, I'm sick, I'm unco sick, =My head's maist rent in twa; I never found as now I find- =I'm no mysel' ava. My mouth's as het 's a lowin' peat, =My tongue 's as dry 's a stick- I never will get fu' again, =For, O! I'm unco sick. I ha'e a drouth, an awfu' drouth, =An' water does nae gud; Tho' I wad drink Lochlomond dry, =It wadna cool my blude. I wish I had a clag o' snaw, =Or dad o' ice, to lick- I never will get fu' again, =For, O! I'm unco sick. I will put in the pin-I will- =I'll ne'er mair tak' a drap, Except, indeed, some orra time. =Then I'll but smell the caup. O! that I were near Greenland's seas, =I'd plunge in heels o'er neck- I never will get fu' again, =For, O! I'm unco sick. I dinna ken right what to do- =I maist wish I were dead; My hand is shaking like a strae, =Or like a corn-stauk head. I stoiter doited out an' in, =My shanks are slack an' weak- I never will get fu' again, =For, O! I'm unco sick. I sicken at the sight o' meat, =The smell o't gars me grue; I daurna think o' tastin' maut- ='Twas maut that fill'd me fu'. I will put in the pin, I will, =To that I'll firmly stick- I never will get fu' again, =For, O! I'm unco sick. I winna join the Rechabites, =For they're a stingy crew, They wadna let me tak' a drap, =Though frozen were my mou'. Cauld water may be very good, =Yet ne'er to it I'll stick- But, O! I'll ne'er get fu' again, It mak's me aye sae sick. BONNIE BESSY BALLANTINE. AIR - "_Lassie wi' the lintwhite locks_." MY bonnie Bessy Ballantine, =I'm fu' o' lowin' love for thee; I canna say I've been mysel', =Sin' you cauld look ye gae to me. I'd bide the thraws o' a' my kin. =An' warld's wrangs light on me fa'; But frowns frae Bessy Ballantine =My senses they drive clean awa'. My dwellin's hamely, cauld, an' bare, =A leal heart's a' that I ca' mine; So come an' cheer my lanely cot, =My canty Bessy Ballantine. Man's road through life is fu' o' crooks, =But at them I shall ne'er repine; I'd climb the crag, I'd swim the sea =Wi' bonnie Bessy Ballantine. =======A. Blair. MY MARY AND ME. AIR - "_My ain fireside_." WHEN first I met Mary my heart was right fain, Sae modest and bonny I wish'd her my ain; I wish'd her my ain, and my ain soon was she, And wha was sae blest as my Mary wi' me? When we baith crap thegither our stock was but sma'- Our faithers were dead, and our mithers and a', Nae kind hand to help us nor counsel to gi'e, Yet that never daunted my Mary and me. We toil'd late and early - were carefu' and canny, On daft silly falderals war'd ne'er a penny, And tho' whiles at night unco wearied were we, We slept a' the sounder, my Mary and me. And when round the ingle, like steps o' a stair, Wee bairnies sprung up, we just doubled our care, Lean'd weel to the meal, and but light on the tea, And bravely fought through, my sweet Mary and me. We learn'd them to work, and we learn'd them to read, Made honour and honesty ever our creed; Now braw lads and lasses are under our e'e, And that gi'es delight for my Mary and me. Nae langer we dread that kind fortune may waver, The battle's our ain, and we're richer than ever: A spot o' gude grund, and a cow on the lea, Is mair than eneugh for my Mary and me. And what though the rose on her fair cheek is fading, And fast o'er my thin locks the grey hairs are spreading? A life rightly spent keeps the heart fu' o' glee, And such has been aim'd at by Mary and me. =======John Paterson. THE BONNY TWEED FOR ME. AIR - "_Yon burnside_." THE hunter's e'e grows bright as the fox frae covert steals, The fowler lo'es the gun, wi' the pointer at his heels, But of a' the sports I ken, that can stir the heart wi' glee, The troutin' stream, the fishin' gad, the bonny Tweed for me. Wi' the gowan at the waterside, the primrose on the brae, When sheets o' snawy blossom cleed the cherry and the slae, When sun and wind are wooin' baith, the leaflet on the tree; Then the troutin' stream, the fishin' gad, the bonny Tweed for me. When the fresh green sward is yieldin' wi a spring aneath the fit, And swallows thrang on eager wing out owre the waters flit; While the joyous laverocks, toorin' high, shoor out their concert free- Then the troutin' stream, the fishin' gad, the bonny Tweed for me. Cheer'd wi' the honest ploughman's sang, that mak's his wark nae toil- The flocks o' sea-gulls round him as his coulter tears the soil, When the craw-schule meets in council grave upon the furrowed lea- Then the troutin' stream, the fishin' gad, the bonny Tweed for me. The modest wagtail joukin' past, wi' soft and buoyant flight, And gurglin' streams are glancin' by, pure as the crystal bright, When fish rise thick and threefauld, at the drake or woodcock flee- Then the troutin' stream, the fishin' gad, the bonny Tweed for me. I like the merry spring, wi' the bluid in nature's veins, The dancin' streamlet's music, as it trinkles through the stanes, The silver white upon the hook, my light gad bending free- Wha wadna visit bonny Tweed and share sic sport wi' me? while there! time wings wi' speed o' thought, the day flees past sae sune, That wha wad dream o' weariness till a' the sport is dune? We hanker till the latest blink is shed frae gloamin's e'e, Laith, laith to quit the troutin' stream, the fishin' gad, and flee! =======Mr A. Foster. ALLA MIA SPOSA. AIR - "_Home, sweet home_." ALTHOUGH for me no English home =Prepares the feast to-day; Although where giant billows foam =I've sped a weary way; Though-mock'd by baffling winds-the shore =Is to my sight denied, My spirit chafes not as of yore, =For THOU art by my side. Although I may not hope to find, ='Mid changing scenes and new, Friends dear as those I've left behind- =The trusted and the true; Yet, while those absent friends I bless, =My heart shall not repine, Since in my wand'rings I may press =Thy faithful hand in mine. Safe in the shadow of thy love, =The southern sun I'd brave, Warm'd by thy smile, I'd cheerly rove =Where Polar tempests rave. The fairest land, where THOU art not, =Seems desolate to be- And where thou art, the dreariest spot =Is home, sweet home to me! =======Will. Kennedy. OLD FATHER TIME! OLD Father Time is a healthy old sage, =Though his brow it is bare, and his locks they are grey; For though he has lived to a wonderful age, =No further he tastes of the power of decay. ====He comes uninvited ====To see blossoms blighted, And sits like a monarch of might in his prime; ====And while all is pleasing, ====He surely is teasing. Was e'er such a fellow as old Father Time? Onward he steals where sweet infancy lies; =Where gay youth is in dreams, and where manhood is seen; The maid he pursues, as before him she flies, =Nor stops to inquire, be she peasant or queen, ====He waves his green willow ====O'er those on the billow; He wanders in haste to each far distant clime; ====But why should we sorrow? ====More hope let us borrow, Was e'er such a fellow as old Father Time! =======Andrew Park. THE CITY GUARD. AIR - "_The Battle of Sheriffmuir_." SING glory to the gallant corps =Wha keep Auld Reekie's keys, man; An' ope and steek the Black-hole door, =Just as their honours please, man: Wha mak' their faes their might to feel, Wi' balls o' lead, or points o' steel, Syne toom their maut aboon their meal; =An' strunt an' stuff their beaks wi' snuff, =Then snort an' puff, sae grim an' gruff, That every scoundrel flees, man. O see them on their gland field days, =An' marchin' "raw by raw, man;" To show how they had backed the Greys, =When in the Forty-twa, man; How Gallia's lords, an' Gallia's bands, Were just like mice in Scotland's hands; And how they conquered kings and lands; =Syne a' came here, to win a cheer =For their career, in ancient wear, Afore they dozed awa', man. Lang live the brave an' doughty band =To guard our ancient town, man; An' lang may norland pith command =An' keep the causeway crown, man; Though mither wives, and laddie weans, Attack them whiles wi' clods an' stanes, An' strive to break their Highland banes; =They tak the rout, when wi' a shout =The Guard rush out, an' wi' a bout Ding bauld rebellion down, man. =======James Ballantine. SONG OF THE SEA-BOUND MARINER. AIR - "_Chevy Chace_." ====UNFURL the sail ====To the pleasant gale; ===Our bark shall wend her way ====O'er ocean wide, ====Through the rippling tide, ===Like a maiden, light and gay. =Farewell to the isle =Whose beautiful smile Awakens each fond emotion, =As we gaze on her hills =And her sparkling rills, From the heaving breast of the ocean. =====Unfurl the sail, &c. =To each beating breast =Our loves we have prest, And bade them a long adieu, =But their mem'ry shall dwell =In our hearts, mid the swell Of the billows' foaming blue. =====Unfurl the sail, &c. ='Neath the cloudless dye =Of a far-off sky, We'll sing the songs of our land, =And the wine-cup, too, =We shall quaff to you, Her daughters fair and bland. =====Unfurl the sail, &c. =In the midnight storm, =Each beautiful form That gladdened our hearts of yore. =Like a beacon bright =Our dream shall light, And lure our spirits to shore. =====Unfurl the sail, &c. =O life is a sea- =Let us weather with glee Its perils and manifold woes, =Till our anchors we drop =In the haven of hope, Where the tide of forgetfulness flows. =====Unfurl the sail, &c. MY GRANNY'S FIRESIDE. AIR - "_Come under my plaidie_." MY granny's fireside in the days that are gane! I mind it sin' first I could toddle my lane; The auld oily cruisie hung down frae the tow, And the clear rashy wick lent a cheery bit lowe; And there, while my granny indulged in a reek O' her wee cutty pipe at her ain ingle cheek, My grand-daddy sat i' the neuk in his chair, And pored through his specks on the volume of lear'. He kent ilka planet that glints in the lift, How they swim in their orbits, baith siccar an' swift, And how the auld earth stands on naething ava. But rows round the sun in the air like a ba'. He ilka thing kent, for he read a' the news; Could speak o' the auld-warld Romans an' Jews; An' a' thing that happen'd langsyne he could tell, An' aye point a moral frae a' that befel. My granny was skilled in a' ailment, and pains, And brawly could doctor the wives an' the weans; To bin' a cut finger, or row up a tae, 'Twas aye to my granny we roarin' wad gae; My granny had pouthers an' pills o' her ain, And cures o' rare virtue nae doctor micht ken, And ill-tasted herbs made our faces to thraw, But wi' something she aye put the swither awa'. My grand-daddy's oes were his pleasure an' pride, The crown and the glory o' granny's fireside- Save bairns in abundance nae treasure had he, But they were more precious than gowd in his e'e. Though wild an' mislear'd, I was dear to his heart, When ithers misca'd me he aye took my part; His lessons I heard, an' his errands I ran, And he prophesied aye I wad yet be a man. Come pain or come pleasure, whate'er might betide, There was nae place on earth like my granny's fireside; Her weel-butter'd bannocks she never wad hain, An' a bawbee frae granny wad ease ilka pain. My granny ne'er gloom'd on the bairns at their play, Her heart aye was young, though her hairs they were grey; The sports an' the joys o' her youth she wad tell, An' min'd aye when she was a lassie hersel'. O weel do I mind, in the days o' langsyne, When a pair o' new breeks or a jacket was mine, To granny I flew in my newfangled pride, An' my pouch was aye hansell'd at granny's fireside. At Pace, or at Yule, or at blythe Hallowe'en, At granny's fireside how delighted I've been! Unscath'd by the canker of sorrow or pain- O wha wadna be a wee laddie again! KATE MACVEAN. AIR - "_There's nae luck about the house_." 'MANG hielan' folk an' lawlan' folk ye may gang far an' near, Ye even may tak' through the Shaws, that's famed for bodies queer, An' yet ne'er fin' the equal o' this couthie crone, I ween, Wha's kent to a' folk roun' about by blythe auld Kate Macvean- =Cracky Kate Macvean, knacky Kate Macvean, O wha can cheer the sinkin' saul like blythe auld Kate Macvean? She needs nae brod aboon her door to tell she sells a gill, A bleezin' ingle's a' her sign, wi' rowth o' reamin' yill, Where queer auld-fashion'd carles meet to crack their jokes at een, An' tell their tales o' auld langsyne wi' blythe auld Kate Macvean- =Stumpy Kate Macvean, dumpy Kate Macvean, Aye but an' ben, wi' tappit hen, gangs stoitin' Kate Macvean. There's ne'er a chiel that blaws the pipes or draws a fiddle-bow, Gangs near her door, but's bade gae in, an' sit as lang's he dow; Her ingle-neuk gi'es shelter e'en to ballad-singer louns, An' a' siclike clanjamphry, when gaun to borough-touns- =Trusty Kate Macvean, lusty Kate Macvean, The very brute beast shaws gudewill to blythe auld Kate Macvean. O wha wad count their time mis-spent though they should chance to sit At least twa hours 'hint sober folk, wi' sic a flash o' wit! She gars auld kimmers haud their sides while tears drap frae their e'en, An' youngsters giggle an' guffaw - auld pawky Kate Macvean- =Gashy Kate Macvean, pashy Kate Macvean, A' Scotland through, nane dings, I trow, auld rantin' Kate Macvean. =======Robert Clark. YE MAY TALK O' YOUR LEARNING. AIR - "_Up in the morning early_." YE may talk o' your learning, and talk o' your schools, =An' how they mak' boobies sae clever; Gude sooth! ye will never mak' wise men o' fools, =Altho' ye should study for ever. If poor be the soil, ye may labour an' toil =On a common where naething will grow, man, But, 'gainst sic barren sods, I will lay you some odds =On the head of an Ayrshire ploughman. Book-lear' an' the like o't, an' a' the fine things =That ye hear an' ye get at the college, If there's no something _here_ that sohool-craft quite dings, =At best ye're a hotch-potch o' knowledge. But ye've heard o' a heckler wha wonn'd i' the west, =To whom Nature had gi'en sic a pow, man, The brairds o' his brain excell'd ither folks' best, =An' mony ran after his tow, man. What signifies polish without there be pith? =Mind that, a' ye gets o' Apollo; A farmer ance dwelt by the banks o' the Nith, =By my sang, he wad beat you a' hollow; For he sang an' he sowed, an' he penned an' he ploughed, =An' though his barnyard was but sorry, Frae his girnal o' brain he sowed siccan grain, =As produced him a harvest o' glory. Ance muir, a poor fallow there dwelt in the south, =An' he to his trade was a guager- He excelled a' the songsters, the auld an' the youth, =I'll haud you a pint for a wager. I farther might tell, he'd a mind like a stell, =An' such was his wonderfu' merits, That the haill country rang, an' the haill country sang, =When they tasted the strength o' his spirits. Now, who was this ploughman and heckler sae braw, =An' wha was this farmer-exciseman? It was just Robin Burns-for he was them a'- =An' ye ken that I dinna tell lies, man. So here's to his memory again an' again, =Tho' learning is gude, we ne'er doubt it, But a bumper to him who had got sic a brain, =That could do just as weel maist without it! =======A. Mercer. MANIAC SONG. =THERE is a radiance beaming round her yet, ==As fraught with loveliness, as when she smiled =Before her sun of reason thus had set, ==And left her foot and fancy wand'ring wild. =The youth she loved her soul can ne'er forget- ==The youth whom dark unfeeling hearts exiled; =And still in this green vale, where oft they met, ==And life's bright hours in tender love beguiled, =She strays, and thus, while pain her bosom wrings, =Hark, hark! how sweet, how wildly sweet, she sings! I had a hame, and I had hope, and ane who lo'ed me too, But him they banish'd far awa', and others came to woo; And now, like ane that's in a dream, I roam by glen and lea, And have a fancy thus to sing - The grave, the grave, for me! ===And hark! the echoes still reply, ====The grave! the grave for me! They tell me that the clay is cauld, tho' a' he warm elsewhere, And that nae ray o' light can meet the bonny black e'e there; But they ha'e hearts mair cauld, I trow, than aught that there can be, Who taught me thus to stray, and sing - The grave! the grave for me! ===And hark! the echoes still reply, ====The grave! the grave for me! It was na weel to chase the hue o' this pale cheek away, And waken in my heart the pain that sleeps not night or day; It was na weel in part me thus frae him I ne'er shall see, And leave me here to stray, and sing-The grave! the grave for me! ===And hark! the echoes still reply, ====The grave! the grave for me! Our meeting still was in the bower when dowie midnight came, For love is like a flower that blooms aye sweetest far frae hame; My hame will soon be far away, and I at rest shall be, And thus I have delight to sing - The grave! the grave for me! ===And hark! the echoes still reply, ====The grave! the grave for me! REQUISITES FOR A LOVE LYRIC. TAKE two bright eyes of black or blue, =Two cheeks of roseate dye, One brow of very snowy hue, =Some ringlets and a sigh, One grove or glen, one mountain rill, =Some very clear blue sky, One lowly cot, one lofty hill, =And then another sigh- One happy hour, one ne'er forget, =One ever constant prove, Two hearts till death together knit, =And one, my only love. These, season'd with some fresh wild flowers, =And spread on gilt-edged vellum, Will make a song, and, by the Powers, =To any bard I'll sell 'em. =======George Roy. THE BROKEN HEART. AIR - "_What ails this heart o' mine?_" FAREWELL! my dream is o'er: =Could I have called thee mine, O! love, fond love! a boundless store =Had all, had all been thine. But now, need'st thou be told, =Since thou thyself hast prov'd So cold - alas! so very cold, =How well I could have lov'd? Farewell! - yet though we part, =May'st thou no sorrow prove; Whilst life remains, my constant heart =Will love thee-hopeless love! Ah me! the trial's past; =Recorded is thy vow; My life away is fleeting fast: =Thou art another's now. Thy blandishments, dear maid! =Can not avert my doom; My heart is dead ere it be laid =Within the quiet tomb. What! if I could still live? =O! is there aught on earth Can now beguile me to believe =It is for living worth! =======Maxwell. BONNIE COQUET-SIDE. AIR - "_Aye teazing me_." O! MARY, look how sweetly Spring =Revives ilk opening flower: Here in this brake, where lintwhites sing, =I'll form a simmer bower, Beneath wham shade, in sultry days, =We'll see the burnies glide, And sportive lambkins deck the braes, =By bonnie Coquet-side. At morn I'll mark how melting shine =Thy een sae deeply blue; Or, tempted thereby, press to mine =Thy lips o' rosy hue. To breathe the halesome air, we'll rove =Amang the hazels wide; And rest betimes to speak o' love, =By bonnie Coquet-side. The wild rose pure, that scents the gale, =Shall grace thy bosom fair: The violet dark, and cowslip pale, =I'll pu' to wreath thy hair. O'er shelving banks, or wimpling streams, =Thy gracefu' steps I'll guide, To spots where Nature loveliest seems, =By bonnie Coquet-side. And when we view ilk furry dale, =Where hang the dews o' morn,- Ilk winding, deep, romantic vale,- =Ilk snaw-white blossom'd thorn; Frae every charm, I'll turn to thee, =And think my winsome bride Mair sweat than aught that meets my e'e, =By bonnie Coquet-side. =======Robert White. THE GOWDEN RING. AIR - "_Low down in the broom_." O JAMIE, whare's the gowden ring! =An' whare's the necklace rare? An' whare's the pretty velvet string, =To tie my raven hair? An' whare the gloves, the gaudy gloves- =The silken gown sae fine? An' whare the pretty flowers o' love, =Ye said wad a' be mine? When last we met, O Jamie, think =On vows ye made to me; Reca' the burnie's flowery brink, =Reca' the birken tree. Ye ken ye vow'd - I heard ye plead, =An' couldna say ye na- O Jamie, hand my heavy head, =It's like to rend in twa. To name the ring, or necklace braw, =Nae mair in time I'll daur; But whare's the heart ye wiled awa'?- =O Jamie, tell me whare. I'll hie me to the burnie side, =An' aye I'll seek it there; I'll be the burnie's dowie bride, =An' never fash ye mair. I'll tell the burnie a' my waes, =I'll tell the birken tree, I'll kneel me on the gow'ny braes, =An' aye I'll pray for thee: An' to the bonnie moon I'll sing, =Beneath the birken tree, An' I'll forget the gowden ring =Ye fausely promised me, YE DINNA KEN YON BOW'R. AIR - "_Jenny Nettles_." YE dinna ken yon bow'r, Frae the glow'rin warl' hidden, Ye maunna ken yon bow'r, ==Bonnie in the gloamin'. Nae woodbine sheds its fragrance there, Nae rose, nae daffodillie fair; But, O! the flow'r 's beyond compare, ==That blossoms in the gloamin'. There's little licht in yon bow'r, Day and darkness elbow ither, That's the licht in yon bow'r, ==Bonnie in the gloamin'. Awa', thou sun wi' lavish licht, And bid brown Benachie guid nicht; To me a star mair dearly bricht ==Aye glimmers in the gloamin'. There's no a sound in yon bow'r, Merl's sough nor mavis singin'; Whispers saft in yon bow'r, ==Mingle in the gloamin'. What tho' drowsie lav'rocks rest, Cow'rin' in their sangless nest? When, O! the voice that I like best, ==Cheers me in the gloamin'. These's artless truth in yon bow'r, Sweeter than the scented blossom; Bindin' hearts in yon bow'r, ==Glowin' in the gloamin'. The freshness o' the upland lea, The fragrance o' the blossom'd pea, A' mingle in her breath to me, ==Sichin' in the gloamin'. Then haud awa' frae yon bow'r, Cauldrife breast or loveless bosom; True love dwells in yon bow'r, ==Gladdest in the gloamin'. =======William Thom. SONG OF THE BEE. AIR - "_Wha'll be king but Charlie?_" CHORUS. I SING a song, a merry song, =O who can sing like me! There's none can chime the whole day long =So joyful as the Bee. The bursting bud, the full-blown flower, =Reward me with a kiss; And hail me to their fragrant bower, =To drink their streams of bliss. I wither not their lovely smiles, =Yet bear their sweets away, And soon they lure me back with wiles, =Some other sunny day. ====I sing a song, &c. Before the dew is off the spray, =My matin hymn I sing, Ere fair Aurora's virgin ray =Has glanced upon my wing. Within the cottage eaves my note =Awakes the cottar's child; I love to charm the hallowed spot =With warblings sweet and wild. ====I sing a song, &c. I love the primrose on the waste- =The heath bell on the lea- Each bears a treasure in its breast, =To cheer the roaming Bee; Each has a beauty all its own, =Which wisdom may define; A simple charm around it thrown =By Nature's hand divine. ====I sing a song, &c. I love the woodlands when their nooks =Are shadowed o'er with bloom; Where lovers, by the noisy brooks, =Delight amid perfume. Where oft the maiden's rosy lip =Allures me with its dye, And when I fain its sweets would sip, =I'm startled by her sigh. ====I sing a song, &c. I love the Spring because it brings =Hope's pleasures back again- I love the Summer, for it flings =Sweet blossoms o'er the plain- I love the Autumn, for its store =Seals pallid Famine's doom; But, ah! the Winter's surly roar =To me so fraught with gloom. ====I sing a song, &c. FIE! FAIR MAIDEN. AIR - "_Tibby Fowler_." FIE! fair maiden, young and pretty- Is it not a shocking pity Lips so rosy, tongue so witty, =Should tell aught but truth? Spread it must through all the city =That thou speak'st not sooth! Beauty feigning false excuses More than half its lustre loses; Shun, oh! shun thy lips' abuses- =Lips with pout so sweet Sure were made for other uses, =Than to breathe deceit! When a witless song-bird viewing, To the net some crumb pursuing, Tranced by wily fowler's wooing, =Then of thee I think, Bent upon thine own undoing- =Close on ruin's brink! Maiden! wherefore all this bother! Wherefore all this noise and pother? Why attempt the truth to smother- =Truth that will be out? One false word begets another- =Think what thou'rt about! Beauteous are the leaves of roses, Sweet the bells the fount discloses; But when flowers that deck our posies =Bear the worms we loathe, Or the spring its freshness loses- =How we shun them both! Then, fair maiden, young and pretty, Is it not a shocking pity Lips so rosy, tongue so witty, =Should tell aught but truth?- Would that for thy sake this ditty =Might be found unsooth! =======Jas Hedderwick. AWA' WI' YOUR WISDOM. AIR - "_Last May a braw wooer_." AWA' wi' your wisdom, Sir Waefu', the wise, =Your tiresome advice I'm no spierin'- Your face, man, it looks as ye fed upon sighs, =An' to laugh, as a sin ye were fearin'-were fearin', ===To laugh, as a sin ye were fearin'. Man, think ye 't nae sin that this beautifu' warl' =Ye wad nickname the birth-place o' sorrow- At the cheerfu' to-day, ye do naething but snarl, =An' conjure up clouds for to-morrow - to-morrow, ===An' conjure up clouds for to-morrow. Ye flee frae the face o' a bonnie sweet lass, =The loveliest gem in creation, Ye ban at a bottle, an' growl at a glass, =An' ye libel the wale o' our nation - our nation, ===Ye libel the wale o' our nation. We honour the man, wha is sound at the heart, =Ev'n rough chields, like me, man revere him; But the lang chaftit loon wha is playing a part, =He's sae ugsome we canna come near him - come near him, ===He's sae ugsome we canna come near him. Then awa' wi' your wisdom, Sir Waefu', the wise! =Keep your counsel for them that are spierin'; An', ere ye throw stour in ither folk's eyes, =Gi'e your ain, for they need it, a clearin'-a clearin', ===Gi'e your ain, for they need it, a clearin'. =======Robert L. Malony. SCOTCH SERENADE. AIR - "_The New Highland Laddie_." ====O COME to me, lassie, ====And dinna be saucy, The moon owre the hill-top is glintin fu' clearly, ====What makes ye now tarry, ====My winsome wee fairy? =O come to the laddie that lo'es ye sae dearly! ====The stars o' the heaven ====Their bright hames are leavin', To hap their wee breasts in the lake sleeping clearly; ====While owre them are leaning ====The fond clods of e'ening, =To steal a saft kiss frae the lips they lo'e dearly. ====The elves o' the fountain, ====On dew-blobs are mountin', To sport in the moonlight that flashes sae cheerly; ====The glen is a' ringing ====Wi' daffin and singing, =And a' speaks o' love but the lass I lo'e dearly. ====O lassie, believe me, ====I winna deceive thee. My heart it has lo'ed thee baith lang and sincerely; ====In dool and in gladness, ====In joy and in sadness, =It aye has been faithfu' to her I lo'e dearly. ====The lamp o' the morning ====Will sune be adorning Ilk place where we've dander'd baith latesome and early; ====Then what makes ye tarry, ====My winsome wee fairy? =O come to the laddie that lo'es ye sae dearly. =======Edward K. Sloane. I HA'E LOST MY HEART. _Set to Music by J. C. Keisser, Edinburgh._ I HA'E lost my heart, I ha'e lost my heart, =Whaur has the wand'rer flown? I'm sad and wae for the silly wee thing, =I wish it be na stown, It's awa' to the lassie blythe an' sweet. =Wi' sunlight in her e'e, And, oh! gin the wilfu' wee thing ye meet, =Gae bring it back to me. Oh! it's unco sair a lassie to lo'e, =Wha's fickle as the wind; An' it's unco sair when ye lose your heart, =Anither no to find; But, oh! it's heaven the lassie to lo'e, =Wha gi'es ye love again- Then strive ye to borrow a maiden's heart, =An' niffer't wi' your ain. =======James Ballantine. MY MOTHER, CAN I E'ER RETURN? AIR - "_Coming through the Rye_." MY mother, can I e'er return =The love I owe to you? Can I forget the smile that burst =Frae 'neath thy cloudit brow? Whan toddlin' round thy widow'd hearth, =Ilk thoughtless tottie's tongue Had music in't to charm the dool =That ower thine ingle hung. ==Then let me kiss the pearlie draps ===Frae aft that sunken e'e, ==An' press to mine thee wither'd lips ===That aft ha'e prayed for me. A wearie weird ye've had to dree, =An eirie lot was thine; A cauldrife warld was laith to gi'e, =It left thee lane to pine. Sair scrimp't aye o' fortune's gifts, =Ye've toil'd baith late and air'; And strove to lift our youthfy' hearts, =Aboon this warld o' care, ==Then let me kiss the pearlie drops, &c. The fleichin' tongue was never thine, =That laithsome falsehood wears; The warldlin' kentna what I ken, =For secret were the tears That waukrife mem'ry bade to flow =Owre love's untimely urn, That scaith'd the lentryne o' thy life, =An' left thee lane to mourn. ==Then let me kiss the pearlie draps ===Frae aff that sunken e'e, ==An' press to mine thae wither'd lips ===That aft ha'e prayed for me. =======John Crawford. LADY COCKPEN. AIR - _The laird o' that Ilk_. THE Laird o' Cockpen, fu' o' ailments and years, Was laid at the last wi' his ancient forebears, Some aucht years or sae, 'yont the threescore and ten, And a lone woman now was the Lady Cockpen. The Lady Cockpen was a widow, 'tis true, But the Lady Cockpen was as gude as when new; The sum o' her years about twenty and ten, Nor waur o' the wear was the Lady Cockpen. For man 'twas decreed he should livena his lane, But mak' flesh o' his flesh, and mak' bane o' his bane, And women are no an exception to men- Sae thocht and sae ettled the Lady Cockpen. And Captain M'Turk, hangin' lang on half-pay, Wi' little to do, but wi' muckle to say, Wi' leisure to spare, tho' wi' little to spen', He sigh'd for the lady and lands o' Cockpen! Brawnie legs and braid shouthers, red whiskers and hair, Twa yards and twa inches his stature, and mair, Wi' a strut like a turkey-the crouse tappit hen Was the game for the Captain - the Lady Cockpen. The Captain was bauld, yet the Captam was alee, The widow he wooed wi' the tear in her e'e, In the saft meltin' moments that come new and then In a lone woman's life - as wi' Lady Cockpen. New sorrow will soothe in the fulness o' time, And widows turn wives without reason or rhyme; Sae booket and buckled, the blythest o' men, Is Captain M'Turk wi' the Lady Cockpen. He married the lady for sake o' the lan', She married the Captain for sake o' the man; And the gossips ha'e got it down by our gate-en', That the howdy has hopes in late Lady Cockpen! DINNA GREET FOR ME AIR - "_John Anderson, my joe_." O GENTLY, gently raise me upon this and bed, my spouse, To look ance mair upon the wood where first we changed vows; The Spring is comin', Jeanie, for the trees begin to blaw, But ere the lear is fully blawn, a widow's tears will fa'! My heart is beatin' loud and fast, and ilka beat a pang, The dead-bell soundin' in my lug has tauld me I maun gang, And death has come to our bedside, but oh! it 's hard to dee, And part wi' a' I've loved sae weel - yet dinna greet for me. I had a waefu' dream yestreen - what gars me tell it now?- Methought I saw a stranger lad, and he wae courtin' you; But the willow-tree hung o'er you, for I watch'd its branches wave, And the wither'd bink ye sat on was a newly cover'd grave! The heavy moon was risin' on the simmer day's decline, And dead men's banes a' glimmer'd white beneath the pale moonshine. It was a sad, ungratefu' dream - for, oh! your kindly e'e Has mair than warld's wealth in its look-ye maunna greet for me! We'll meet within a happier land that opens to my view; And yet, Heav'n kens, my earthly heart wad rather stay wi' you, Wi' you and that wee bairn, that ance we thocht sae muckle bliss, Owre weak a flower to leave alane in sic a warld as this! For mony a tear her little e'e may ha'e to gather yet, And haply mony a wearie gait awaits her hameless fit; But "The Father of the fatherless" maun fend for her and thee- To doubt wad be a sin, my Jean-sae dinna greet for me! MY AULD GUIDMAN. BAR the ha' door, my dearie- =Hech, sirs! sic a din This wild winter makes wi' =His weet an' his win', Wi' hail hard as whunstanes, =Wi' think chokin' sna'- Bar the ha' door, my dearie, =Fu' crouse let him craw. When the big arm-chair near =The ingle is drawn, And my wheel birrs wi'joy ='Side my auld guidman, ===O the blink o' his e'e ===Makes a summer to me, ===Sae sunny 's the glee ====O' my auld guidman. In vain, gloomy winter, =Ye try ilka art To bend his straught back, or =To freeze his kind heart; When loud roar thy tempests, =When fierce flow thy floods, When the wind bites the bark =Frae snaw-covered woods, As he wears his sheep hame, =Frae hill or laigh lan', He laughs in your face, trowth! =My buirdly auld man. ===For the wild winds o' night ===That the feckless affright, ===Send songs o' delight ====To my auld guidman. And, losh ! how he loups frae =The ingle's blythe blink When he hears the loud roar =O' the curler's rink. His han' still is steady, =Though aften, waes me! Eild murk clouds will fa' owre =The aim o' his e'e; Yet through the hale parish =The rumour has ran, That there's nane takes the tee =Like my auld guidman. ===At ilk beef an' green feast, ===A new medal, at least, ===Hangs bright at the breast ====O' my auld guidman. I ha'e laugh'd, aye, an' laugh'd, =Till my auld sides were sair, To see him 'mang younkers =At bridal or fair- When he cracks his brown thums =I' the foursome reel, As he thinks himsel' still =A supple young chiel; When the lasses ne'er swither =To gi'e him their han', 'An swing through the reel wi' =My auld guidman. ===O! he aye looks sae cheerie, ===Ca's ilk ane "his dearie," ===Haith! the night ne'er gets eerie ====Wi' my auld guidman. My heart's grit wi' gladness, =Yet tears fill my e'e, When I think that the mate =O' my bosom maun dee; Yet bending wi' meekness =I'd bow to my fate, If we baith the same hour =Could gang the same gate; Or get but a lease o' =This life's mortal span, I could wear out a score wi' =My auld guidman. ===I'd climb the steep brae, ===And strew, as I stray, ===Glad flowers on the way ====O' my auld guidman. Nine wee anes we've christen'd- =We'll maybe name ten! Some young sprouts ha'e sprung up =To women and men. The lasses are modest, =As lasses should be- The young rogues are wild-like, =And thoughtless awee; But to scauld or to skelp them =Was never my plan, An' a word 's quite enough =Frae my auld guidman. ===Hard knocks aye gi'e place ===To sound lessons o' grace, ===Frae the saul and the face ====O' my auld guidman. Our faith has been constant, =Our love has been strang, They ha'e worn sae weel, they =Ha'e lasted sae lang. Lang, lang may they last! =But O! well-a-day! If sad fate before me should =Wede him away, I'll take the stroke kindly, =Frae Death's baney han', Whilk lays me beside him, =My auld guidman. ===But sighing and sadness ===Is even doon madness, ===When livin' in gladness ====Wi' thee, my auld man. JEANIE'S WELCOME HAME. AIR - "_Bonnie Wood o' Craigie lea_." LET wrapt musicians strike the lyre, =While plaudits shake the vaulted fane; Let warriors rush through flood and fire, =A never-dying name to gain- Let bards, on fancy's fervid wing, =Pursue some high or holy theme,- Be't mine in simple strains to sing =My darling Jeanie's welcome hame. Sweet is the morn of flow'ry May, =When incense breathes frae heath and wold, When lac'rocks hymn the matin lay, =And mountain peaks are bathed in gold, And swallows frae some foreign strand =Are wheeling o'er the winding stream,- But sweeter to extend my hand, =And bid say Jeanie welcome hame. Poor Colley, our auld-farrant dog, =Will bark wi' joy whene'er she comes, And baudrons, on the ingle rug, =Will blithely churm at "auld gray thrums;" The mavis, frae our apple tree, =Shall warble forth a joyous strain, The blackbird's mellow minstrelsy, =Shall welcome Jeanie hame again. Like dewdrops on a fading rose, =Maternal tears shall start for thee, And low-breathed blessings rise, like those =Which soothed thy slumb'ring infancy. Come to my arms, my timid dove! =I'll kiss thy beauteous brew once more- The fountain of thy father's love =Is welling all its banks out o'er. =======David Nedder. LAMENT FOR ABERCAIRNIE. A MOURNFU' gloom is owre the earth, =A' nature seems in pain, An' joins the dolefu' wailin' sang, ="Gude Abercairnie's gane." Nae children's play was in the glen =That heard his bugle's swell, And night closed on a bloody day =When Abercairnie fell. We brought him hame upon his shield, =His tartans died in gore; And tears were seen in stern auld e'en, =Whaur ne'er were tears before. His mither and his bride cam' down- =Ae shudd'ring look they cast- Ae waefu' look - it mair than tauld =Their day o' joy had pass'd. O! for ae saft an' dewy tear =Of pity, not of ire, For mine are bursting frae my e'en, =Like draps o' scorching fire; Or for a blade, whose sweep were death, =And let me face them a', The traitors wha ha'e slain my chief- =But I'll avenge his fa'. O! I could lay me down an' dee, =Sin' Abercairnie's gane; But lang for him the tears shall fa', =And deep shall be our main. Awa' thou pipe that pleased him sae, =Nae mair thy strains he'll hear- Dead now the stormy pibroch falls =On Abercairnies ear. CUDDIE WILLIE. AIR - "_The Gaberlunzie Man_." AULD Cuddie Willie gaed to the sea side, To howk for cockles at ebb o' the tide; He stappit the shore wi' a manly stride, =An' steevely he shool'd up the sand, O; He wrought an' he sung as merry an' free As wee curly waves that wimple the sea- But little guessed he o' the winsome fee =That Beauty had biding his hand, O. A genty young leddy, bloomin' an' fair, Cam' down to the shore for the fresh sea air, An' aye she gazed an' she winkit the mair, =Fu' kind on the strappin' auld man, O. Auld Cuddie Willie, he looted him low, He doffed his bonnet an' made her a bow; Quo' he, "Fair leddy, what's come o' your joe, =That ye're daunderin' here alane, O?" "Troth, carle," quo' she, "I ha'e wooers no few, But nane o' them kens, nor has wit to woo- Gin I had ane wi' the smeddum o' you, =Fu' blythely I'd gi'e him my hand, O." Bauld Willie, he passed his arm round her neck, An' ga'e her wee mou sic a stoundin' smack, Her auld faither heard the sound o' the crack =For a mile out owre the laud, O. The faither, he keek't owre his castle wa', An' grim gloom'd the carle whan his auld een saw His bonnie young lassie riding awa' =On the cuddy ahint the auld man, O. "The cockle gatherer's aff wi' my daughter- Gird every man for the chase an' the slaughter, Ride ye an' rin until back ye ha'e brought her- =An' I'll gi'e ye a gude strong can, O." Sic muntin' o' steeds, sic girdin' o' swords- 'Mang hedgers and ditchers, 'mang flunkies and lords, Her wooers are roarin' their new fangled words, =An' loudly an' fiercely they ban, O. The ploughman has munted his auld grey naig, The herd owre the foal has striddled his leg, Blin' uncle Jock carries lame aunty Meg, =An' they're aff like the whirlwin', O. Sic scuddin' and thuddin', sic swearin' an' sinnin', Sic gallopin', wallopin', rinnin', and pinnin', Ilk ane to be foremost wad gi'e a' his winnin', =An' pap his bit breekums in pawn, O. Bauld Willie, he look'd out owre his shouther, Syne cramm'd his pistols wi' pease an' pouther, "My dear," quo' he, "I'll gi'e them a scouther- =I'll strew them thick on the lan', O." The first shot he fired, the foremost fell, Riders and racers a' courin' pell-mell, Syne up an' ran hame their mischance to tell, =While the bride kissed her brave auld man, O. Wi' laughin' a' day, an' lovin' a' night, The comely pair are as canty an' light As gin she were leddy and he were knight- =They are linkit in true love's ban', O. =======James Ballantine. THE MINISTER'S DOCHTER. AIR - "_Johnny M'Gill_." O! THE minister's dochter for daffin 's a deil, There 's fire in her e'e, an' there's spunk in her heel- I kenna what ails me - I'm no very weel, =Since the minister's dochter blinked slyly on me. It's no for her beauty, it's no that she's braw, Tho' sunny her smile, an' her skin like the snaw, But I dinna ken what has come owre me ava, =Since the minister's dochter blinked slyly on me. My cronies a' jeer, for their presence I shun, They say I am douff, and ha'e tint a' my fun, An' just like a foggy day wantin' the sun, =For ance I was canty as canty could be. I look like a man that's been haul'd into law, Or puir dyvor loon, wi' his back at the wa'- I whiles try to sing, but the sound dees awa', =Since the minister's dochter blinked slyly an me. But how should I bother the company sae, 'Tis folly outright to be dowie and wae- I've nought to complain o' - what mair wad I ha'e? =For did na the lassie blink kindly on me? How lang I've been proggen my courage in vain- But birds now or eggs I'm resolved to obtain, I'm no gaun to sleep this cauld winter my lane- =Na! the minister's dochter maun cuddle wi' me. MY AIN WIFE. AIR - "_John Anderson, my jo_." I WADNA gi'e my ain wife for ony wife I see, For, O my daintie ain wife, she's aye sae dear to me; A bonnier yet I've never seen, a better canna be- I wadna gi'e my ain wife for ony wife I see. Though beauty is a fading flower, as fading as it's fair, It looks fu' weel in ony wife, an' mine has a' her share; She ance was ca'd a bonnie lass - she's bonnie aye to me; I wadna gi'e my ain wife for ony wife I see. An' couthie is my ingle cheek, an' cheerie is my Jean, I never see her angry look, nor hear her word on ane- She's gude wi a' the neebours roan', and aye gude wi' me; I wadna gi'e my ain wife for ony wife I see. An' O her looks sae kindly, they melt my heart outright, When owre the baby at her breast she hangs wi' fond delight; She looks intill its bonnie face, an' syne looks to me; I wadna gi'e my ain wife for ony wife I see. =======Alex Laing. OH THE DREIGH DAYS O' WINTER. AIR - "_Come under my Plaidie_." OH! the dreigh days o' winter are irksome to bear, When feedin' and cleedin' are baith unco dear, When the wee birdie haps frae the shelterless tree, To seek the wheen moolins our table can gi'e; When the storm-gowlin' cluds row back i' the lift, And the doors an' the winnocks are chokit wi' drift; When the snaw's fa'in' fast, and the wind's blawin' keen. I can nae langer daunder wi' Jessie at e'en. But the bleak winds o' winter, when ance they blaw by, Nae mair passin' poortith will cause me to sigh; For a weel-plenish'd biggin' I ettle to gain, And syne, my sweet Jessie, I'll ca' ye my ain; But, tho' fortune should frown, still contented I'll be, Gin I'm blest wi' the light o' your laughin' black e'e. Come, simmer, in kirtle o' gowden and green, That again I may daunder wi' Jessie at e'en. =======Alex. A. Ritchie WHEN WE WERE AT THE SCHULE. AIR - "_There's nae luck abouf the house_." THE laddies plague me for a sang, =I e'en maun play the fule, I'll sing them ane about the days =When we were at the schule. Though now the frosty pow is seen =Whaur ance wav'd gowden hair; An' mony a blythsome heart is cauld =Sin' first we sported there. ===When we were at the schule, my frien' ====When we were at the schule; ===An' O sae merry pranks we play'd ====When we were at the schule. Yet muckle Jock is to the fore, =That used our lugs to pu', An' Rob, the pest, an' Sugar Pouch, =An' canny Davie Dow. O do ye mind the maister's hat, =Sae auld, sae bare, an' brown, We carried to the burnie's side, =An' sent it soomin' down? ===When we, &c. We thocht how clever a' was plann'd, =When, whatna voice was that? A head is raised aboon the hedge,- ="I'll thank ye for my hat!" O weel I mind our hingin' lugs,- =Our het an' tinglin' paws,- O weel I mind his awfu' look, =An' weel I mind his taws! ===When we, &c. O do ye mind the countin' time, =How watchfu' he has lain, To catch us steal frae ither's slates, =An' jot it on our ain? An' how we fear'd at writin' hour =His glunches an' his glooms, How mony times a day he said, =Our fingers a' were thooms? ===When we, &c. I'll ne'er forget the day ye stood, ='Twas manfu' like, yoursel', An' took the pawmies an' the shame =To save wee Johnnie Bell; The maister found it out belyve, =He took ye on his knee, An' as he gaz'd into your face, =The tear was in his e'e. ===When we, &c. But mind ye, lad, yon afternoon =How fleet ye skipp'd awa', For ye had crack'd auld Jenny's pane =When playin' at the ba'. Nae pennies had we: Jenny grat;- =It cut us to the core; Ye took your mither's hen at nicht, =An' left it at her door. ===When we, &c. An' sic a steer as granny made, =When tale-py't Jamie Rae We dookit roarin' at the pump, =Syne row'd him down the brae. But how the very maister-leuch =When leein' saddler Wat Cam' in an' threep't that cripple Tam =Had chas'd an' kill'd his cat ===When we, &c. Ah, laddies, ye may wink awa'! =Truth maunna aye be tauld, I fear the schules o' modern days =Are just siclike's the auld, An' are na we but laddies yet, =An' get the name o' men? How sweet at ane's fireside to live =The happy days again! ===When we were at the schule, my frien', ====When we were at the schule, ===An' fling the snawba's owre again ====We flang when at the schule. =======THomas C. Latte. I'SE REDE YE TAK' TENT. AIR - "_Laird o' Cockpen_." I'SE rede ye tak' tent o' your heart, young man, I'se rede ye tak' tent o' your heart, young man, =There's a hizzy I ken, =Wha wons down in the glen, To wheedle't awa' has the airt, young man. An' O! she is pawky an' slee, young man, An' O! she is pawky an' slee, young man, =For sae sweet is her smile =That a saunt she'd beguile, Sae witchin's the blink o' her e'e, young man. She's packed wi' mischief an' fun, young man, She's packed wi' mischief an' fun, young man- =Gin ye dinna beware, =An' tak' unco guid care, She'll wile you as sure as a gun, young man. But then she's baith bonny an' gude, young man, But then she's baith bonny an' gude, young man, =Tho' a wee bit thought wild, =Yet her temper is mild, An' her kin are o' gentle blude, young man. Her faither's fu' bien, I can tell, young man, Her faither's fu' bien, I can tell, young man- =He's a keen canty carl, =Weel to do in the warl'- Losh, lad! I'm her faither mysel', young man. Gin ye wish a gude wife to earn, young man, Gin ye wish a gude wife to earn, young man, =Fast! gae get her consent, =An' yell never repent- Ye'll get a gude wife in my bairn, young man. =======Alan Fisher. GI'E MY LOVE GEAR. ==GI'E my love gear, gear, ===Gi'e my love gear an' siller; ==She'll aye be blythe, and fondly kythe, ===As lang as ye bring till her. Gin I were row'd in binge o' gowd, =Had garners stow'd wi' wealth at will, I mak' nae doubt she'd drain them out, =And speedily my coffers spill. Where comes the gear, or cheap, or dear, =She'll never speer siclike, I trow,- E'en beg or steal-gang to the deil! =Saebe't ye keep her happer fu'. ==Gi'e my love gear, gear, &c. At kirk an' fair the lads they stare, =And grudge me sair her courtesy; They little reek that sic respeck =Has cost maist feck my towmond's fee! For ilka smile, a plack she'll wile, =For ilka kiss, a crown at least; And troth I'll swear, the auld ye'll clear =Afore she'll trust you wi' the neist. ==Gi'e my love gear, gear, &c. The tither morn, wi' meikle scorn, =She bann'd me for a niggard loon, And tauld how Pate had coft to Kate =At Lammas fair a braw new gown; I'll tak' a wad, I've gi'en the jaud =O' better far a score, d'ye see; But fient may care! she'll yet ha'e mair- =Ye'll never sair her greedy e'e. ==Gi'e my love gear, gear, &c. I've maidens seen, that roose their een, =Their lips, their cheeks o' rosy hue, Say they were lair, beyond compare, =Ye had but little mair ado: To siclike phrase, sic wooster ways, =My love she pays but sma' regard- Tak' ye my word, like simple bird, =Wi' caff for corn she'll ne'er be snared. ==Gi'e my love gear, gear, &c. =======W. Ferguson. JOHNNY'S GREY PLAID. AIR - "_Johnny's grey breeks_." I'VE coft a stane o' haslock woo, =To mak' a plaid to Johnny o't; For Johnny is my only joe, =I lo'e him best o' ony yet. Gin kindness shou'd wi' kindness meet, =I'm mair in debt than mony, O; Gin freely gi'en should freely get, =I owe the plaid to Johnny, O. I'll wile awa', wi' canny skill, =The cardin' an' the spinnin' o't: I'll gi'e a tenty honest chiel' =The weavin' an' the wynnin' o't; An' syne I'll tak' a sunny day, =An' scour it clean an' bonny, O; An' o' the soncy wab o' grey =I'll mak' a plaid to Johnny, O. O, lang an' weary is the way, =An' Johnny lo'es sae dearly, that In comin' aye a-courtin' me, =The laddie's late an' early out; An' aye the early mornin's raw, =An' aft the e'enin's rainy, O, But in a bizzy week or twa =I'll ha'e a plaid to Johnny, O. My Johnny is the wale o' men, =There's nane sae leal an' canty, yet- That sic a laddie is my ain, =Indeed I'm unco vaunty o't. I'll do my best-I'll be a wife =As gude an' kind as ony, O, An' i' the stormy days o' life =I'll share the plaid wi' Johnny, O. =======Alex Laing. MY HEART'S 'MONG THE HEATHER. AIR - "_Failte na Miosg_." MY heart's 'mong the heather, where fearless and far Bounds the fleet-footed deer over moontain and scaur; Where hangs the wild goat like a shrub on the steep, Where down the deep ravines the cataracts leap; Where the strong-pinioned tempests in slumber repose, Or revel in wrath which no strength may oppose; Where far overhead the prood eagle floats free, Oh! my heart's 'mong the heather, wherever I be. They may dungeon me deep, where the day's blessed light Cometh never to gladden my soul or my sight; Where grim-bearded silence and solitude reign, But, scaithless, the spirit will burst from this chain, Away from the gloom, like a bird on the wing, O'er the heather-clad mountains I'll soar and I'll sing, Inhaling the beauty, the breeze, and the bloom; Oh! my heart's 'mong the heather, whatever my doom. My heart's 'mong the heather - O, never, O, never! Can aught from this bosom my father-land sever; Long years have gone by since I left it, a child, And years from its bosom may keep me exiled; But if ages on ages might over me roll, Its features would ne'er be erased from my soul, And the love which I bear it can never decay- Oh! my heart's 'mong the heather for ever and aye! =======W. Ferguson. OUR AULD UNCLE JOHN. AIR - "_When Autumn has laid her sickle by_." OUR auld uncle John is an odd sort o' chiel, As prim as the priest, an' as deep as the deil, He's proud o' his person, his parts, and his pelf, But sae closely encased in the mail-coat o' self, That if saving frae skaith wad but cost a bawbee, Even that for his mother he scarcely wad gi'e. Though now near the fifty-third milestane o' life, He ne'er could be tempted to think on a wife. "They're fashious," quo' John, "they're costly beside, Wi' their muffs, ruffs, and ruffles, their pinks and their pride; Na, na," quo' our uncle, "nae woman for me, The clack o' her clapper I never could dree." Our auld uncle John keeps a house by himsel', But few, very few, ever tinkle his bell, Except some poor victun to borrow or pay, And wae on the debtor wha keeps na his day. "Ye'll mind, Sir," quo' John, "that the rule is wi' me, When due, ye maun pay me down plack and bawbee." Yet auld uncle's biggin' is cosie and bein, Where a' things are polish'd like ony new preen, In ilk scouring dish ye may view your ain face, Ilk stool and ilk chair keeps its ain proper place, Gin the carpet be crumpled, or hearth-rug ajee, The moment it's noticed it righted maun be. Gin the least puff o' reek down the vent chance to come, He's up wi' the besom an' bannin' the lum; Should a flee just but light on his winnock or wa', He's up wi the dishclout to daud it awa',- "Get out o' my house, ye vile vermin," cries he, "Though I've meat for mysel', I ha'e nane for the flee." Nae poor beggar bodies e'er darken his door, The print o' their bauchels would sully his floor; The toon collies daurna snoke in as they pass, E'en baudrons maun dight her saft feet on the bass. "Ay, pussy! ye'll no quat your raking," quo' he, "But just clean your feet ere you venture to me." Our youngsters wad visit him last new-year's day,- He ne'er bade them welcome, nor wish'd them to stay, But dealt them a crust frae a hard penny brick, Saying, "Now, weans, our cheese, ye see, winna cut thick; Rin hame to your mither, and tell her frae me, I wantna your visits, - I've naething to gi'e." Our auld uncle John, when he sleeps his last sleep, What friend will lament him - what kinsman will weep? Poor pussy may miss him, but that will be a', And her he just keeps to fricht mousie awa'; Weel-e'en let him gang, never mair here to be, A tear for his lose ne'er shall moisten an e'e. =======Alex Rodger. THE WANDER'D BAIRN. THE cluds gaed hurlin' owre the lift, =The snaw in divots fell, An', like the wullcat's dreesome din, =The lum gi'ed mony a yell; An' waukrife scream'd the bieldless bird, =An' flaff't its flaket bouk, An' whirrin' thro' the leafless trees, =The frozen brake forsook; "Guid guide us aye!" quo' auld Dunrod, ="An' shield us a' frae harm, I hear a yirmin' i' the blast!- ='Let in a wander'd bairn!'" "O tak' the puir wee wand'rer in!" =Was heard frae ilka tongue, While frae the bairnie's tautit hair =The frozen crystals hung, An' cauld an' blae her gentie han's, =Her feet a' tash'd an' torn, An' duddie bare her brats o' claes, =Unlike a nicht o' storm, An' 'wilder'd row'd her watery een, =That nane the tale could learn That tauld o' schillin, scaith, an' wae, =To that wee wander'd bairn. The auld guidwife, wi' kin'ly words, =The hameless wand'rer cheer'd, An' frae the cozie ingle neuk =The grumlin' collie steer'd. Ilk sough that shook the lanely bield, =The smorin' cluds sent down, That gar'd the kin'ly wife's heart =Wi' kin'lier feelin's stoun; For artless was the sonsie face, ='Twad thow'd a heart o' airn, To see the trinklin' teardraps fa' =O' that wee wander'd bairn. But nane e'er kent the wand'rer's tale, =Tho' months an' years gaed past, Sin' first the lanely muirlan' bield =Had screen'd her frae the blast; An' wooers cam' to seek the han', =The lily han' that strove To mak' her foster-father's hame =The hame o' peace an' love; But aye the tear-drap dimm'd her e'e, =Tho' ne'er a ane could learn The saikless sorrows that oppress'd =Dunrod's wee wander'd bairn. Now simmer clad ilk bower an' brake; =An' thirlin' ower the lea, The lintie sang a lichtsome lilt =O' love an' liberty. To roam amang the snawy flachts =That spairged the speckled lift, The Iav'rock left its leesome lair, =An' bathed its head in licht; An' sweetly smiled the loved o' a', =Nae mair wi' thocht forfairn, For Lady o' Ardgowan ha' =Was now the wander'd bairn. Saft pity aft a balm has brocht =To lanely widow'd grief, An' kindred waes ha'e aften socht =In kindred tears relief. Wi' fortune's favours aft comes pride, =Wi' fortune's frowns despair, An' often has the pauchty breast =Been torn wi' grief an' care; But ne'er the kindly feelin' hearts =That could owre sorrow yearn, Had cause to rue the love they shew'd =To that wee wander'd bairn. =======John Crawford. PITY ME! WHAT I DREE. _Written for a St. Kilda air, or "Haud awa' frae me, Donald."_ ==PITY me! what I dree! ===This poor aching heart is breaking, ==Here I lie, moan and sigh, ===Lanely and forsaken. Lately I was blythe and cheery, =As the merry maukin; Now I'm dowie, dull, and dreary, =Baith asleep and waukin'. ==Pity me! &c. On the primrose bank nae mair =I'll flowery chaplets weave me, Nor deck wi' silken snood my hair, =For ane wha'd sae deceive me. ==Pity me! &c. A' my thochts are thochts o' sorrow, =A' my dreams are sadness; Not a hope to light the morrow =Wi' a gleam o' gladness. ==Pity me! &c. O! that I had never met him- =Never loved sae fondly, O! that I could now forget him =Whom I lived for only. ==Pity me! &c. A' my joys are fled for ever, =A' my peace is broken; Bear, O bear to my fause lover =This unhonoured token. ==Pity me! &c. Tell him o' a tender blossom, =Trampled down and faded, Tell him o' a stainless bosom, =Now, alas! degraded. ==Pity me! &c. Yet amid this wreck and ruin- =Not a starlet gleamin', She he wrong'd for peace is suing =To her faithless leman ==Pity me! what I dree! ===This poor aching heart is breaking, ==Here I lie, moan and sigh, ===Lanely and forsaken. =======Alex Rodger. THE AULD EMIGRANT'S FAREWEEL. AIR - "_Of a' the airts_." LAND of my fathers! night's dark gloom =Now shrouds thee from my view; Land of my birth - my hearth - my home- =A long and last adieu. Thy sparkling streams-thy plantin's green, =That ring with melodie, Thy flowery vales-thy hills and dales =Again I'll never see How aft ha'e I thy heathy hills =Climb'd in life's early day, Or pierced the dark depths of the woods, =To pu' the nit or slae; Or lain beneath the "milk-white thorn," =Hid frae the sun's bright beams, While on my raptured ear was borne =The music of thy streams. And aft, when frae the schule set free, =I've joined a merry ban', Wha's hearts were loupin' licht wi' glee, =Fresh as the morning dawn; And waunder'd, Crookston, by thy tower, =Or through thy leafy shaw, The live lang day, nor thocht o' hame, =Till nicht began to fa'. But now the lichtsomeness o' youth, =And a' its joys are gane, My children scatter'd far an' wide, =And I am left alane; For she wha was my hope and stay, =And sooth'd me when distress'd, Within the "dark and narrow house" =Has lang been laid at rest. And puirtith's clouds do me enshroud, =Sae, after a' my toil, I'm gaun to lay my puir auld clay =Within a foreign soil. Fareweel, fareweel, auld Scotland dear, =A lang fareweel to thee, Thy tinkling rills, thy heathy hills, =Nae mair, nae mair I'll see. =======Wm. Finlay. HEATON MILL. AIR - "_Awa' to bonnie Tweed side_." Wi' boundin' Step and gladsome e'e, =I'll aff for Heaton Mill, To steep the line and throw the flee =Amang the streams o' Till, My end-hook Wears a woodcock wing, =Its body dubb'd wi' green, The freckled drake will upmost swing, =A spider bob between. My taper gad sae light and fair, =A clear gleg rinnin' wheel, Wi' sparklin' gut like ony hair, =The tackle-book and creel; The lang sma' taper gad is swung =Around Wi' easy slight, Across the stream the flies are flung, =Like gossamer they light. The water-gowan's silken stem =Floats wavin' on the tide, And 'neath the fiow'rets bonnie gem, =The trooties like to hide. I'll try my hand-a lucky hit =May bide the ither throw,- My hook's just struck the very bit, =Light as three flaiks o' snow. Frae 'neath the weed a gowden gleam =Flash'd frae his burnish'd side, And at the hook a boil is seen =That scarcely stirs the tide; The bendin' gad wi' stricken'd line, =Shug-shuggin' like a wand, A' workin' on a thread sae fine, =Yet brings him safe to land. There ne'er was aught in nature seen =Whose colour could outvie The glitter o' its side sae green, =Bathed in the rainbow's dye. The olive back, the gowden fin, =The belly's silver hue, A' spread upon a pinkie skin, =That scarcely blushes through. The mottled drops that mantle far =Out owre his spangled scale, A' glist'nin' like the gorgeous star =That gems the peacock's tail. A fishing day, by dam or weir, =Could aye my feelings bind, And muckle in 't there is to cheer =A nature-loving mind. Aneath yon auld saugh tree I'll lean =Upon a mossy seat, Wi' Tiptoe braes afore my een, =Till streamin' at my feet; And list the sandy lav'rock's ca', =Lood wheeplin' out his strain, Or sweet sang o' yon water craw, =Doup doupin' on the stane. Gude e'en-the day is wearin' ben, =Far wast the sun has row'd, The trees adown steep Twizel Glen =Are steep'd in burnish'd gowd. May peace and plenty mingle there, =And sattly row the Till, For welcome kind to hamely fare =Is aye at Heaton Mill. =======Mr A. Foster. SONG OF THE WANDERING SEA-BREEZE. OH! I am the child of an eastern land, =I have roam'd o'er the waters wild, And I danced a while with a bridal band, =When the spirit of gladness smiled; 'Neath the spreading Banyan's ample shade, =Where they held their revelry, I stole a kiss from each beautiful maid, =And wing'd me out to sea. I shook the sails of a lonely bark, =Becalm'd on the glassy deep, That lay at night 'mid the shoreless dark, =Like a drooping maid asleep; And the mariner sprang from his dreamy rest, =As he heard the rippling seas, He look'd to heaven, his sins confess'd, =Then bless'd the wandering breeze. I curl'd the wave o'er a hero's grave, =Who sank 'mid the battle's storm, And I heard the shriek that his true-love gave, =As I fann'd her phantom form; When she lightly wing'd o'er the billow's crest, =With the speed of a spirit's flight, And she sank in the deep, deep ocean's breast, =Like a living beam of light. I have gather'd the sweets of the sunny isles, =Where the spirit of beauty dwells, 'Midst the evergreen bloom of fair nature's smiles, =That are woven with hidden spells; I have tuned my soft voice with the mellow notes =Of a sea-born syren's lyre, And the magic song of the mermaid floats =Round my harp's unfinger'd wire. I caught the last prayer of a drowning man, =Ere the chord of life was riven, And I soar'd to a place that the eye cannot scan, =Till I met the herald of heaven; And the guerdon I sought was the smile that beam'd =In the angel's lovelit eye, And the chorus of praise that around him stream'd, =As he bore his charge on high. Where the man-hunter lay, like a serpent coil'd, ='Mid Afric's palmy shades- I rustled the leaves, and his purpose foil'd, =For I startled the sable maids; And I bore back his curse to his blacken'd heart, =And murmur'd revenge in his ear, When a hidden hand launch'd a poison'd dart, =And his life-stream dyed the spear. I hasten'd the flight of two lovers that fled =In a light and tiny bark, For I fill'd their white sail when its folds were spread, =Like the wing of the swan in the dark; And the blossoms of bliss were around them shed, =From hope's unfading bowers, Where the spirit of love, with soundless tread, =Displays its mystic powers. Oh! I am the pilgrim of ocean deep, =And I speed to the golden west, With whisperings of hope to the hearts that weep, =And joy to the weary breast; The tints of the east are on my wing, =And they smile as I sigh along- My breath is the kiss of the rosy spring, =And my voice is the fount of song. 'TIS NAE TO HARP AIR - "_My heart and lute_." 'Tis nae to harp, to lyre, nor lute, =I ettle noo to sing- To thee alane, my lo'esome flute, =This simple strain I bring. Then let me flee, on memory's wing- =O'er twice ten winters flee; An' try, ance mair, that ae sweet spring =That young love breath'd in thee. Companion of my happy then! =Wi' smilin' friends around- In ilka "but" - in ilka "ben" =A couthie welcome found; Ere yet thy master proved the wound =That ne'er gaed skaithless bye; That gi'es to flutes their saftest sound, =To hearts-their saddest sigh. Since then, my bairns ha'e danced to thee, =To thee my Jean has sung; An' mony a nicht, wi' guileless glee, =Our hearty hallan rung. But noo wi' hardships worn and wrung, =I'll roam the world about; For her, and for our friendless young, =Come forth, my faithfu' flute! Thy artless notes may win the ear =That wadna hear me speak, An', for thy sake, that pity spare =My full heart couldna seek. An' when the winter's cranreuch bleak =Drives houseless bodies in- I'll aiblins get the ingle cheek, =A' for thy lightsome din. =======William Thom-. O! HOPE'S LIKE A MINSTREL AIR -"_Dumbarton's bonny dell._" O! HOPE'S like a little minstrel bird, =That sings by the path o' a child, Aye flittin' frae bloomy bough to bough =Wi' an air sae merry an' wild; An' maist within grasp o' his gowden wings =He lets the bairnie creep, ===Syne, aff bangs he ===To a high high tree, =An' the wee thing's left to weep. O Hope's like a maiden o' fair fifteen, =Wi' an e'e as dazzlingly bright As the dew that blinks i' the violet's cup, =When the sun has reached his height; An' she bows her bright head to your sweet waled words, =Till love turns burning pain, ===Syne, wi' sudden scorn, ===She leaves ye forlorn, =To smile on anither swain. O Hope's like a sun-burst on distant hills, =When stern and cloudy's the day, An' the wanderer thinks it a heaven-blest spot, =An' his spirit grows licht by the way; The bloomy moors seem lakes o' gowd, =An' the rocks glance like castles braw- ===But he wins na near ===The spot sae dear- =It glides aye awa' an' awa'. An' whiles Hope comes like a prophet auld, =Wi' a beard richt lang an' gray, An' he brags o' visions glitterin' an' gran', =An' speaks o' a blither day. Ne'er heed him; - he's but a hair-brained bard, =A-biggin' towers i' the air- ===A lyin' seer, ===Wha will scoff an' jeer, =Though your heart's baith cauld an' sair. =======JOSEPH GRANT. HE THAT THOLES OWRECOMES. AIR - "_Auld Langsyne._" A CANTIE sang, my auld guidman, =I'll lilt wi' lichtsome glee, We winna, shanna yaumerin' yirm, =Though fortune's freaks we dree. Sae, stamp your foot - mak' sorrow flee, =And blythely crack your thum's! We've fouchten sair, baith late an' ear'- =But he that tholes owrecomes. An' aye ye'vs muckle tboeht o' me, Tho' mony hicks an' hums, We've been thegither, man an' wife, =For forty years an' mair, An' leal we've warslet through the warld, =An' gi'en our bairnies lair. An' aye ye've muckle thocht o' me, =Tho' mony hicks an' hums, Ye've war'd owre puirtith's antrin dauds- =But he that tholes owrecomes. Sax buirdly chiel's, baith stark an' stieve, =An' bonny dochters three, As e'er drew huik owre harvest rig, =Or blest a mither's e'e, We've rear'd an' lair'd; an' weel may we =Think muckle o' our sons, For aft their kindness to us proves =That he who tholes owrecomes. Our dochters, women-muckle grown, =Wi' a' their winnin' airts, Can thow the icy tags that hing =About our wallow't hearts. They bind wi' flowers our wrinkled brows- =Eke out life's brittle thrums, An' tell us, by their smiles O' love, =That he that tholes owrecomes. Sae round about, and round about, =We'll jump an' dance an' sing; Noo, up an' till't, my auld guidman, =We'll gar the kebars ring. Sae, stamp your foot-mak' sorrow flee, =And gaily snap your thum's, A guid life make a happy death, =An' he that tholes owrecomes. =======John Crawford. LAST WEEK AS I SAT. AIR - "_Last May a braw wooer._" LAST week, as I sat wi' my wheel by the fire, =I heard our wee winnock play dirl, And said to my mother 'twas time for the byre, =For weel I kent Johnie's love-tirl, love-tirl, ==For weel I kent Johnie's love-tirl. I lifted the leglin and hied out in haste, =Bein' laith that my lover should wearie, And, swith! ere I kent he'd his arms round my waist, =And kiss'd me, and ca'd me his dearie, his dearie, ==And kiss'd me, and ca'd me his dearie. But ere we had weel gotten time for a smack, =My mother cam' out in a hurry, And wi' the grape-shank o'er his head cam' a thwack- =Losh guide's! but she was in a flurry, a flurry, ==Losh guide's! but she was in a flurry. She ca'd me a limmer, she ca'd me a slut =And vowed she would cure me o' clockin'; Said how that I neither had havens nor wit, =In my life I ne'er gat sic a yokin', a yokin', ==In my life I ne'er gat sic a yokin'. Neist she flew at my lover, wi' tongue like a sword, =Himsel' and his kindred misca'in'; While he, silly doofart, said never a word, =But aye his clower'd cantle keept clawin', keept clawin', ==But aye his clower'd cantle keept clawin'. She said, if again to our town-end he cam', =Or look'd but the gate o' her daughter, Wi' an auld hazle rung or a wheel-barrow tram, =His muckle thick skull she would flaughter, would flaughter! ==His muckle thick skull she would flaughter! Dumfounder'd at length, he snooved out o' the byre, =As I've aft seen a weel thrashen collie, And trudged his wa's hameward through dub and through mire, =I've nae doubt, lamentin' his folly, his folly, ==I've nae doubt, lamentin' his folly. And ever sin' syne, when we meet, he looks blate, =As if we had ne'er been acquainted- He ettles, it's plain, to leave me to my fate, =But, believe me! I'll no gang demented, demented, ==Believe me, I'll no gang demented. For the lover that's scared by an auld woman's tongue, =Though e'en like a dart it rin through him, Or yet by the weight o' her wrath in a rung, =Ill deserves that a lassie should lo'e him, should lo'e him, ==Ill deserves that a lassie should lo'e him. =======W. Fergulson. MADIE'S SCHULE. AIR - "_The Campbell's are comin'._" WHEN weary wi' toll, or when canker'd wi care, Remembrance takes wing like a bird of the air, And free as a thought that ye canna confine, It flees to the pleasures o' bonnie langsyne. In fancy I bound o'en the green sunny braes, And drink up the bliss o' the lang summer days, Or sit sae demure on a wee creepy stool, And con ower my lesson in auld Madie's schule. Up four timmer stairs, in a garret fu' clean, In awful authority Madie was seen; Her close-luggit mutch tower'd aloft in its pride, Her lang winsey apron flowed down by her side. The tawe on her lap like some dreaded snake lay, Aye watchin' an' ready to spring on its prey; The wheel at her foot, an' the cat on her knee,- Nae queen on her throne mair majestic than she! To use whir o' the wheel while auld baudrons wad sing, On stools, wee an' muckle, a' ranged in a ring Ilk idle bit urchin, wha glower'd aff his book, Was caught in a twinklin' by Madie's dread look. She ne'er spak' a word, but the taws she wad fling! The sad leather whang up the culprit maun bring, While his sair bluther'd face, as the palmies wad fa', Proclaim'd through the schule an example to a'. But though Madie could punish, she weel could reward, The gude and the eydant aye won her regard- A Saturday penny she freely wad gi'e, And the second best scholar got aye a bawbee. It sweeten'd the joys o' that dear afternoon, When free as the breeze in the blossoms o' June, And blythe as the lav'rock that sang ower the lea, Were the happy wee laddies frae bondage set free. And then when she washed we were sure o' the play, And Wednesday aye brought the grand washin' day, When Madie relaxed frae her sternness a wee, And announced the event wi' a smile in her e'e, The tidings were hail'd wi' a thrill o' delight- E'en drowsy auld baudrons rejoiced at the sight, While Madie, dread Madie! wad laugh in her chair, As in order we tript down the lang timmer stair. But the schule now is skailt, and will ne'er again meet- Nae mair on the timmer stair sound our wee feet; The taws an' the penny are vanish'd for aye, And gane is the charm o' the dear washin' day. Her subjects are scatter'd-some lang dead and gane- But dear to remembrance, wi' them wha remain, Are the days when they sat on a wee creepy stool, An' conn'd ower their lesson in auld Madie's schule. =======Alex Fmark. COME, BILLIES, LET'S STEER FOR OUR HAMMOCKS. AIR - "_Rattlin' roarin' Willie._" COME, billies, let's steer for our hammocks, =Consider the nicht's growing late, Fy rax us our plaids and our crummocks, =It's time we were takin' the gate; Our dawties at hame will be weary, =Wi' Waiting upon us sae lang, Then why keep them lanely and eerie =While we are enjoying our sang? It's guid to be social and canty, =It's cheering to coup aff our horn- But makin' owre free Wi' our _aunty_ =Is sure to bring trouble the morn; For _aunty_'s a dangerous kimmer, =And no to be dallied Wi' aye, She'll turn to bleak whiter our simmer, =And sprinkle our haffets wi' grey. Come now, we ha'e a' gotten ready, =Na, laird, no anither drap mair, Weel, Johnny, ye're foremost-be steady, =And mind there's a turn in the stair- Shoot out your best fit now before ye, =And cannily catch ilka step, Ae stagger, my blade, and we're owre ye, =Syne wha your fat carcase will kep? Now, since we're a' landed on Terra, =Let ilk tak' his several road, Enough we may manage to carry, =Owre meikle's a troublesome load. Guid e'en - ilka man to his dearie, =As fast as he's able to gang- To meet a wife smiling and cheery, =Is ten times mair sweet than a sang. =======Alex Rodger. THE LINTIES' WOOING. =AE day twa wee gray linties sat on a twig, An' the cock bird sang this canty strain, "I'll mak' thee my hen, in a nest o' our ain"- Then he lilted the o'ercome wi' might an' main- ="I will," quoth the merry wee grig. =Awa' then they flew by bush and by brier, Till they cam' to a bonnie shady bow'r, An' they sat there fu' cozielie mair than an hour, Till the drizzlin' drap cam' down in a show'r, =When the canty cock, cunnin' an' queer, =He lifted his wing an' he happit the hen, An' he chirpit sae cagielie, what do ye think, That he fairly bamboozl't the hen in a blink, In the conjugal mire she was willing to sink, =Nor car'd she for clerkly amen. =Fu' blythely they wrought baith stark an' stour, An' fu' neat Was the biggin'-but here ends the joke. O' their flytin', an' billin', an' cooin', the book Telleth not; but I'se warrant than wee feather'd folk ='Mang their sweets found a sprinklin' o' sour. =======James Mauson. THE LAST LOOK O' HAME. _Music by John Purdie, Esq._ BARE was our burn brae, =December's blast had blawn, The last flower was dead, =An' the brown leaf had fa'n: It was dark in the deep glen, =Hoary was our hill, An' the win' frae the cauld north =Cam' heavy an' chill, Where I said, "Fare-ye-weel," =To my kith an' my kin; My bacque, it lay a-head, =An' my cot-house ahin: I had nocht left to tine, =I'd a wide warl' to try, But my heart, it wadna lift, =An' my e'e, it wadna dry. I look'd lang at the ha' =Thro' the mist o' my tears, Where the kind lassie lived =I had ran wi' for years: E'en the glens where we sat, =Wi' their broom-cover'd knowes, Took a hank on this heart =That I ne'er can unlouse. I ha'e wander'd sin' syne =By gay temples aud towers, Where the ungather'd spice =Scents the breeze in their bowers:- O! sic scenes I could leave, =Without pain or regret, But the last look o' hame =I never can forget. =======Huw Ainslie. ILKA BLADE O' GRASS KEPS ITS AIN DRAP O' DEW. CONFIDE ye aye in Providence, for Providence is kind, And bear ye a' life's changes wi' a calm and tranquil mind Tho' press'd and hemm'd on ev'ry side, ha'e faith and ye'll win through, For ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew. Gin reft frae friends, or crost in love, as whiles nae doubt ye've been, Grief lies deep hidden in your heart, or tears flow free your een; Believe it for the best, an' trow there's gude in store for you, For ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew. In lang lang days o' Simmer, when the clear an' cludless sky Refuses ae wee drap o' rain to Nature parch'd an' dry, The genial night wi' balmy breath, gars verdure spring anew, An' ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew. So lest 'mid Fortune's sunshine we should feel owre proud an' hie, An' in our pride forget to wipe the tear frae poortith's ee; $cene wee dark clude o' sorrow come, we ken na whence or how, But ilka blade o' grass keps its ain drap o' dew. =======James Ballantine. MORTAL EAPPINESS. To sing of human happiness, when all is peace and piping, Or laugh at love and handkerchiefs, when eyelids need no wiping, Is but to mock the cruel pangs that now my heart is tearing, And smuder up the hearty groans that's rowling for a hearing: Och! if I had my paice of mind, that cruel piece of plunder, I'd let the jades die wrinkled maids, and then they'd see their blunder. 'Sure, now, an' are they not desarvin to live an' die, wid never a mouth to spake to but thir own? Och! if I had my own way on't, I'd see them rot an' die like praties in a frost, wid never a morsel of mother earth over them to purtect the blessin. My heart is batein agin the side of my body, an' roarin like the livin thunder. I'm thinkin every joinin an' corner an' turnin in my body will be in pieces, lyin lookin at aich other, and sayin, "Will ye shake hands and be fiends agin?" They're all roarin and croakin - and cryin and singin, ever like the win'does through the ropes and riggin and canvas, of the ould Molly of Ballynahinch, when she's standin up for't agin them cross-grained win's that's wantin to bate the carpenter.' The lovely craturs every one are jewels of perfection, And mighty need they have indeed of comfort and purfection; But I, who'd be their guardian through each future generation, Am trated like the blackguard scamps that roam about the nation. Oh! paice, throughout the wholesome day, and I have long been strangers, And all the night in woeful plight I dream of fearful dangers. Where'er I turn my aching eyes for paice or consolation, Some cheek, or eye, or lip, or brow, work, furder tribulation- Och murther! but it seems my fate, that some one will tormint me, Whene'er I turn me round from one, another is fornint me; The saucy flirts, if but a word I'd speak of adoration, With 'Sur?' as sharp's a sword they'd cut the thread of conversation. Now, Tennis, will ye lave off talking? your tongue will be worn as thin as a shilling, rowlin' an' roarin' agin your teeth. At once't an' for ever, tie up the four corners of your mouth wid the tail of your tongue, Tennis, and hould your breath to cool your broth wid when they are too hot for the spoon!' 'Och! Europe and the Black Sea to the bargain! - will ye make my heart go all to pieces batein' agin the bone, going agin it that one knock cannot get out'n the way ov the other? - ould Father Time could'nt, for the life on him, wish it faster-at the rate of twenty hunner knocks in a minute - at least two days in the hour. I'm thinkin' it will lape out an' spake to you for itself. Och! you'll not repate thim cruel words agin. Look now! an' have they not broken the skin of them lIps, like rose laves, my darlint? Och, now! let them just close sweetly and softly and quietly, like them laves I am spaking off when thir going to thir bed for the night, and spake a kind word wid the corner of your eye!' No wonder that the married wives are happy and contented, Sure of her vows no dacent spouse has ever yet repented; Whate'er they want their husbands grant, that's fitting for their station, While nought they do, 'tween me and you, but raising botheration. Then let the female sex now learn to know what most they're needing, Nor screw their pretty mouths to No! - when Yes! would show their breeding. =======John Graeme. THE TROUTIN' DAY. I'LL mount the creel upon my back, and aff wi' merry glee, And hae a gallant troutin' day wi' minnie or wi' flee: I ken ilk stream and wimplin' pool - ilk plaintain, brae, and mead, By Beaumont fair, the sleepy Till, or the majestic Tweed. Your swivel mount, the minnie spin, the water's porter brown, And try the cast aboon the Cauld, below sweet Coldstream town. The wind is saft, the sky is grey, the colour o' the tide Proclaims the spate frae Slittrick brae, or Yarrow's mountain side. The laverock's chirlin' in the sky, far, far aboon our ken; The blackbird's notes are ringin' high, frae out the quarry glen; The brairdin' bear sae sweet to smell, a' wat wi' dewy spray, Mak' high our bounding spirits swell, on sic a troutin' day. The saft winds through the trees, the gowans at my fit, The big trouts boilin' at the flees, as owre the stream they flit; The salmon ware upon the ford, just new run frae the sea; The swallows swarming owre the tide, - a' please the fisher's ee. Fling owre to whaur the eddies boil, aboon their rocky bed: I hae him fast, the greedy gowl, - he struck it like a ged; The tackle's stout - the haud is fast - for landing, famous ground; I've work'd him down - he's out at last - his weight aboon a pound. Anither and anither still - they're rising by the score; Like draps that tail a summer shower, far spreads ilk wimpling bore. But night is closing in at last - my pouches heavy feel- I scarce can get the lid made fast, wi' sic a stockit creel. I'll hame, on Sandy Foster ca' - o' fishers he's the sire- And wi' the lave we's hae a blaw, around his kitchen fire; The warm cheerer, circling bright - the weary turning gay, A' listening to the hard-won fight that crowns a troutin' day. The fish upon the table spread in ashets bright and clean, The larger spread aboon the fry to glamour anxious een; The cantle laugh o' harmless glee, the royal lots o' fun Wi' auld Tam Smith, blythe Uncle John, or cannie Willie Dun. O Coldetream fair! there's ane, at least, that bears a love for thee-- A fervent, deep, and stirring love, that time will ne'er let dee! I'd sooner swing at Coldstream Cross, or to a stake be boun', Than die an honest fair strae death in ony ither toon? WATTY, THE POACHER. Wi' a lang rusty gun that looks nae worth a groat, A horn fu' o' pouther, a pouch fu' o' shot, An' a black cutty pipe in his cheek reeking hot, =You'll meet auld cunnin' Watty, the poacher. E'er the grey o' the moon he lea's his theek'd house, Creeps up the lee side o' the hedge like a mouse; Though cunnin' an' pawky's the wiles o' puir puss, =She's nae match for slee Watty, the poacher. Ilk slap that he thinks maukin shoudna gae throu', He puffs his tobacco reek a' roun' the mou Whan they push for the ane whaur his girn's, I trow, =Hangs them dead for auld Watty, the poacher. When the snell, snawy blast, or the wild drivin' sleet Gars the paitricks a' croodle thegither for heat, A shot frae his gun maks them turn up their feet, =The hale covey for Watty, the poacher. Or whan winter's white coat lies fu' deep on the grun And smoor'd maukin's breath maks a hole like a lum, Tho' snug 'neath the snaw, yet without dog or gun, =He's the spoil o' slee Watty, the poacher. The squire and his keeper, a ne'er-do-weel chiel Try a' kin' o' traps to lay Wat by the heel; The farmers they bribe, but they a' like owre weel =Their frien', cunnin' Watty, the poacher. Wat wishes the gentry a' roun' at the deil; He thinks a' the birds an' beasts o' the fiel' Belang by fair nature to ilk honest chiel =That can kill them like Watty, the poacher. The cadgers aye ca' as they pass to the town; He fills their box fu' for a white siller crown, Or barters for beef, wi' a drap to wash down =A' their bargains wi' Watty, the poacher. Wit's aye gold to the puir-aft a farl o' cake, Wi' the leg o' a pheasant or cutty they get; An' aftimes this benison's left at his gate- =O' lang life to bauld Watty, the poacher. =======R Marshall. THE DRYGATE BRIG. LAST Monday night, at sax o'clock, =To Mirran Gibb's I went, man, To snuff, an' crack, an' toom the cap, =It was my hale intent, man So down I sat an' pried, the yill, Syne luggit out my sneeshin' mill, An' took a pinch wi' right good will, O' beggar'S brown, (the best in town,) Then sent it roun' about the room, =To gie ilk ane a scent, man. The sneeshin' mill, the cap gaed round, =The joke, the crack an' a', man, 'Bout markets, trade, and daily news, =To wear the time awa' man; Ye never saw a blither set, O' queer auld-fashion'd bodies met, For fient a grain o' pride nor pet, Nor eating care got footing there, But friendship rare, aye found sincere, =An' hearts without a flaw, man. To cringing courtiers, kings may blaw, =How rich they are an' great, man, But kings could match na us at a', =Wi' a' their regal state, man; For Mirran's swats, sae brisk and fell, An' Turner's snuff, sae sharp an' snell, Made ilk ane quite forget himsel', Made young the auld, inflamed the cauld, And fired the saul wi' projects bauld, =That daur'd the power o' fate, man. But what are a' sic mighty schemes, =When ance the spell is broke, man? A set o maut-inspired whims, =That end in perfect smoke, man. An' what like some disaster keen, Can chase the glamour frae our een, An' bring us to oursel's again? As was the fate o' my auld pate, When that night late, I took the gate =As crouce as ony cock, man. For, sad misluck! without my hat, =I doiting cam' awa', man, An' when I down the Drygate cam', =The win' began to blaw, man. When I cam' to the Drygate Brig, The win' blew aff my guid brown wig, That whirled like ony whirligig, As up it flew, out o' my view, While I stood glow'rlng, waefu' blue, =Wi' wide extended jaw, man. When I began to grape for't syne, =Thrang poutrin' wi' my staff, man, I coupet owre a meikle stane, =An' skailed my pickle snuff, man; My staff out o' my hand did jump, An' hit my snout a dreadfu' thump, Whilk raised a most confounded lump, But whar it flew, I never knew, Yet sair I rue this mark sae blue, =It looks sae fleesome waff, man. O had you seen my waefu' plight, =Your mirth had been but sma', man, An' yet, a queerer antic sight, =I trow ye never saw, man. I've lived thir fifty years an' mair, But solemnly I here declare, I ne'er before met loss sae sair; My wig flew aff, I tint my staff, I skail'd my snuff, I peel'd my loof, =An' brak my snout an' a', man. Now wad you profit by my loss? =Then tak' advice frae me, man, An' ne'er let common sense tak' wing, =On fumes o' barley bree, man; For drink can heeze a man sae high As mak' his head 'maist touch the sky, But down he tumbles by-an'-by, Wi' sic a thud, 'mang stanes an' mud, That aft it's guid, if dirt and bluid, =Be a' he has to dree, man. =======Alex Rodger. WHEN I BENEATH THE COLD RED EARTH AM SLEEPING. WHEN I beneath the cold red earth am sleeping, ===Life's fever o'er, Will there for me be any bright eye weeping ===That I'm no more? Will there be any heart still memory keeping ===Of heretofore? When the great winds through leafless forests rushing ===Like full hearts break, When the swollen streams, o'er crag and gully gushing ===Sad music make; Will there be one whose heart despair is crushing ===Mourn for my sake? When the bright sun upon that spot is shining ===With purest ray, And the small flowers their buds and blossoms twining ===Burst through that clay; Will there be one still on that spot repining ===Lost hopes all day? When the Night shadows, with the ample sweeping ===Of her dark pall The world and all its manifold creation sleeping, ===The great and small- Will there be one, even at that dread hour, weeping ===For me-for all? When no star twinkles with its eye of glory, ===On that low mound; And wintry storms have with their ruins hoary ===Its loneness crowned; Will there be then one versed in misery's story ===Pacing it round? It may be so, - but this is selfish sorrow ===To ask such meed,- A weakness and a wickedness to borrow ===From hearts that bleed, The wailings of to-day, for what to-morrow ===Shall never need. Lay me then gently in my narrow dwelling, ===Thou gentle heart; And though thy bosom should with grief be swelling, ===Let no tear start; It were in vain, - for Time hath long been knelling- ===Sad one, depart! =======William Motherwell. CAULD WINTER IS COME. CAULD Winter is come, wi' his mantle o' snaw, =To spread over moorland and lea: The daisy-deck'd web o' green velvet's awa, =An' the last leaf has fa'n frae the tree. Oh! sad is the sough o' the cauld norlan blast, =As it sweeps round the hamestead at e'en: It speaks to the heart, like the voice o' the past, That comes with its shadows the soul to o'ercast =As it wails for the things that ha'e been. Sage grey-beard may tell us 'tis vain to repine! =And reason forbids us to mourn- But the heart maun has vent when it dreams o' langsyne, =And the joys that will never return. And there's something that touches its innermost springs, =When Summer's last looks disappear; O'er the spirit a mantle o' sadness it flings- A' the past, wi' its joys and its sorrows, it brings =At this cauld dowie fa' o' the year. By the warm ingle side, when the night closes in, =Such musings will come, when alane, (But sadness is selfish, and selfishness sin,) =Let us feel for the poor that ha'e nane,- That ha'e nae ingle side! nor a house! nor a hame! =In a' the wide warl, - nor a frien'! But maun bear the cauld blast on a hunger-bit frame, Life's manifold waes that ha'e never a name, =An' the buffets o' misery keen. The fox has a home in the deep hollow dell, =And the hare has a form on the lea; There's a beild for the creatures in forest and fell, =But there's none, human outcast! for thee, And now that the desolate vesture is thrown =Wide, wide over valley and hill, Let humanity's balm-pouring spirit be shown, Let us feel for the woes of the nature we own, =And our being's best purpose fulfil. =======Robt. L. Malone. THE WEE, WEE MAN. A WEE, wee man, wi' an unco din, =Cam' to our beild yestreen, An' siccan a rippet the bodie raised =As seldom was heard or seen;- He wantit claes, he wantit shoon, =And something to weet his mou'; While aye he spurr'd wi' his tiny feet, =And blink'd wi his een o' blue. His face, which nane had seen before, =Thrill'd strangely through ilk min', Wi' gowden dreams frae mem'ry's store =Of loved anes lost langsyne. A faither's brow, a mither's een, =A brither's dimpled chin, Were mingled a' on that sweet face, =Fresh sent frae a Hand abune. Oh, soon ilk heart grew grit wi' love, =And draps o' joy were seen To trinkle fast ower channel'd cheeks, =Where streams o' wae had been. A welcome blythe we gied the chiel =To share our lowly ha'; And we row'd him warm in fleecy duds, =Wi' linen like Januar snaw. Our gudeman has a way o' his ain, =His word maun aye be law- Frae Candlemas to blythe Yule e'en =He rules baith grit an' sma; But the howdie reign'd last nlcht, I trow, =And swagger'd baith but and ben- Even the big arm-chair was push'd ajee =Frae the cosie chimley en'. The gudeman snooved about the house =Aye rinnin' in some ane's way, Yet aft he glanced at the wee thing's face =On the auld wife's lap that lay; His breist grew grit wi' love and pride =While the bairn was hush'd asleep, And a gush of blessings frae his heart =Came welling warm and deep. I canna boast o' gowd, quoth he- =My wealth a willing arm; Yet health and strength and wark be mine, =And wha shall bode thee harm? To fill thy wee bit caup and cog, =And gie thee claes and lair, Wi' joy I'll strive, and sweet content =Through poortith, toil, and care. There's joy within the simmer woods =When wee birds chip the shell, When firstling roses tint wi' bloom =The lip of sunlit dell; But sweeter than the nestling bird, =Or rosebud on the lea, Is yon wee smiling gift of love =Unto a parent's ee. =======Hugh MacDonald. THE MILLER OF DEANHAUGH. O KEN ye the auld mill o' bonnie Deanhaugh, Whaur the wheel tears in tatters the wud waterfa'; Ye mauna rin by it, but pap in and ca', For blythe is the miller o' bonnie Deanhaugh. He maun hae his mouter, he maun hae his maut, He taks muckle gowpins, but wha can find faut? What he skims aff the fou dish, the toom get awa', The poor bless the miller o' bonnie Deanhaugh. His hand is aye open to help poortith's woes, Poor folk may want brogues, but they never want brose; And gin stern Oppression owre them shakes his paw, He's felled by the miller o' bonnie Deanhaugh. It's gude to be muckle, it's gude to be kind, It's gude when a weak chield can boast a stout mind; Gin strength succoured weakness, how blest were we a', Heaven bless the stout miller o' bonnie Deanhaugh. =======James Ballantine. BONNIE NELLY RICHARDSON. ==BONNIE Nelly Richardson, ==Bonnie Nelly Richardson, ==Fairest lass in a' the toun! ==Bonnie Nelly Richardson. Frae the gowden yetts on hie, Spring peeps out wi' laughing ee, To wile thee to the flow'ry lea, =My bonnie Nelly Richardson. Winter now has fled awa', Sweetly blooms the birken shaw, Saft the dews o' e'ening fa', =My bonnie Nelly Richardson. Streams are dancing thro' the wuds, Birds are singing in the cluds, Bees are sipping hinny buds, =My bonnie Nelly Richardson. Roses sweet for thee I'll pu'- Wat wi' blobs o' siller dew- To wreath aroun' thy pearly brow, =My bonnie Nelly Richardson. In some flow'ry scented glen- Far awa' frae din o' men- Hours o' transport there we'll spen', =My bonnie Nelly Richardson. ==Bonnie Nelly Richardson, ==Bonnie Nelly Richardson, ==Fairest lass in a' the toun! ===Bonnie Nelly Richardson. =======Edward K. Sloane. THE FLOWER OF BANCHORY. _To a Melody by_ ALEXANDER MACKENZIE. YOUNG Spring, with opening flowers, =Was bright'ning vale and lea; While Love, 'mid budding bowers, =Woke sweet melody: When by Dee's noble river =I strayed in happy glee, And left my heart for ever =In fair Banchory. ==O Banchory! fair Banchory! ==How dear that happy day to me, ==I wandered by the banks o' Dee, ==And won the flower o' Banchory! How was't that I, a rover =So reckless and so free, Became a constant lover =By flowing Dee? Because, like Spring, my charmer, =When fondly, kindly press'd, Became like Summer warmer, =And Love's power confess'd. ===O Banchory! &c. The streamlet onward flowing, =Still gathers as it flows; The breast with true love glowing, =Still warmer glows. And my fond heart grows fonder, =More firm my constancy, For dearer still and kinder =Is my Love to me. ==O Banchory! fair Banchory! ==How dear that happy day to me, ==I wandered by the banks o' Dee, ==And won the flower o' Banchory! =======James Ballantine. OULD MURPHY THE PIPER. AIR - '_The Boys of Kilkenny._' OULD Murphy the Piper lay on his death-bed, To his only son, Tim, the last words he said: 'My eyes they grow dim, and my bosom grows could, But ye'll get all I have, Tim, when I slip my hould, ==Ye'll get all I have, boy, when I slip my hould. 'There'e three cows and three pigs and three acres of land, And this house shall be yours, Tim, as long as 'twill stand; All my fortune is threescore bright guineas of gould, And ye'll get all I have, Tim, when I slip my hould, ==Ye'll get all I have, Tim, when I slip my hould. 'Go fetch me my pipes, Tim, till I play my last tune, For Death is a-coming, he'll be here very soon; Those pipes that I've played on, ne'er let them be sould, If you sell all I have, Tim, when I slip my hould, ==If you sell all I have, Tim, when I slip my hould.' Then ould Murphy the Piper, wid the last breath be drew, He played on his pipes like an Irishman true; He played up the anthem of green Erin so bould- Then calmly he lay down, and so slipt his hould! ==Then gently he lay down, and slipt his last hould! A SCOTTISH WELCOME TO HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. AS SUNG AT THE BANQUET GIVEN UER IN EDINBURGH, ON WEDNESDAY, 2OTH APRIL, 1853. AIR, - '_Carle, an' the King come._' COME, Scotland, tune your stock and horn,' And hail with song this joyous morn, When on Love's eagle pinions borne, =Harriet Beecher Stowe's come. ==Freedom's angel now's come, ==Mercy's sister now's come: ==Grim Oppression drees his doom: ===Harriet Beecher Stowe's come. Through hostile ranks our sires of yore, Fair Freedom's flag unsullied bore, And still she fills our bosom's core: =Harriet Beecher Stowe's come. ===_Chorus_. A woman's arm Truth's falchion bears, A sweet low voice stern Conscience fears, And stony hearts dissolve in tears: =Harriet Beecher Stowe's come. ===_Chorus_. And far as rolls the ocean wave, Is heard that voice now raised to save, Alike the slaver and the slave: =Harriet Beecher Stowe's come. ===_Chorus_. And tyrants scared the writing scan, O'er-arching heaven with rainbow span, MAN HATH NO PROPERTY IN MAN: =Harriet Beecher Stowe's come. ===_Chorus_. Then welcome be that honoured name, So dear to freedom and to fame; Come, rend the welkin with acclaim: =Harriet Beecher Stowe's come. ===_Chorus_. =======James Ballantine. MARY'S FLITTIN'. THE term o' Martimas cam' roun', =When Mary had to flit; She sich'd an sabb'd wi' dowie soun', =Her heart was sair and grit. She faulded up her workin' claes, =Her kist-lid stood ajee- Look'd roun' wi' sair bewilder'd gaze, =Syne cried out. 'O waes me!' 'When fell disease spread owre the muir, =Heaven took my parents twain- I was left pennyless an' bare, =An' lost my couthie hame! You acted then a faither's part, =An' dried my tearfu' ee- Syne brought me here in your ain cart, =But noo, alas, waes me!' 'You hired me then to tent your weans, =At ae set penny-fee- Your kin'ness fley'd awa' my pains, =You've a' been guid to me. You treat me as I'd been your bairn, =My heart lap licht wi' glee; But noo a heavy weight, like airn, =Lies on my breast, waes me! 'O dool's the day an' dool's the hour, =When frae the tryst ye came! Ye look'd as ye ne'er look'd afore, =And surly cried, "Gae hame! Nae idlers here! Na, na, forsooth!" =You said, while flash'd your ee; My puir young heart lap to my mouth, =I was sair fley'd, waes me! 'I ken't na then 'twas losses there, =That changed to me your face- I thocht ye wish'd I was elsewhere, =An' sae gae up my place! Neist day when ye was like yersel', =An' kin'ly spak to me, I rued far mair than tongue can tell =What I had done, waes me! 'For five lang years I've faithfu' sair'd, =Sae happy in this house, While a' the bairnies sweet hae shar'd =My joy wi' daffin' crouse. An' maun I lea' them a' e'en now, =An' them sae fond o' me? 'Twill surely be my death, I trow,' =And aye she sabb'd, 'waes me!' The colly kin'ly lick'd her han', =Grey baudrons rubb'd her feet, An' e'en the weanles cudna stan', =They a' began to greet. She hugg'd them to her beatin' breast, =She kiss'd ilk wat'ry ee- While sichin' deep, an' sair distress'd, =She cried out, 'O waes me!' The auld gudeman sweet Mary blees'd =Wi' a tear-blinded ee- The gudewife op'd her muckle kist, =What lay her naperie. Aff claith, sax Flemish ells she tare, =An' laid on Mary's knee; Puir thing, she only grat the mair, =An' sabb'd out, 'O waes me!' 'I'll sair you freely a' my days, =Without ae penny-fee- I'll no seek mony duds o' claes, =If you will just keep me.' Wi' tears ilk cheek was weet a' roun', ='Twas unco sair to see- An' hearts gae aye the tither stoun =As she cried, 'O waes me!' But manly up, wi' mickle grace, =Spak Rab, their auldest son- 'Let orphan Mary keep her place, =What ill has she e'er done? Leal love our hearts has bound in ane, =To us your blessings gie- 'Twad melt the hardest heart o' stane =To hear her cry, waes me!' Her little kist's taen aff the cart, =Ilk tear is wip'd awa', Joy fills ilk bairn an' parent's heart, =An' smiles gae roun' the ha': An' in sax short weeks after this, =Rab's bride she is to be; Wi' frien's surrounded wi' sic bliss, =She'll nae mair cry, waes me! =======R. P. M. AS THE AULD COCK CRAWS. As the auld cock craws, sae the young cock learns, Aye tak ye care what ye do afore bairns; =Their heads are muckle, though their limbs are wee, =An' O! the wee totts are gleg in the ee: Then dinna fricht your laddie wi' the 'black boo' man, But let him douk his lugs in his wee parritch pan; =Lay ye his rosy cheek upon your mou' a wee, =How the rogue will laugh when his minny's in his ee. As the auld cock craws, sae the young cock learns, Aye tak ye care what ye do afore bairns; =Though vice may be muckle, and virtue may be wee, =Yet a sma' speck o' light will woo the dullest ee: Then dinna fright us a' wi' the muckle black deil, Show us mercy's bonnie face, an' teach us to feel; =Tbough we think like men, we should feel like bairns.- =As the auld cock crows, sae the young cock learns. =======James Ballantine. LAY OF THE BROKEN HEART. THE rude and the reckless wind, ===ruthlessly strips The leaf that last lingered on ===old forest tree; The widowed branch wails for ===the love it has lost; The parted leaf pines for ===its glories foregone. Now sereing, in sadness, and ===quite broken-hearted, It mutters mild music, and ===swan-like on-fleeteth A burden of melody, ===musing of death, To some desert spot where, ===unknown and unnoted. Its woes and its wanderings may ===both find a tomb, Far far from the land where ===it grew in its gladness, And hung from its brave branch, ===freshly and green, Bathed in blythe dews and ===soft shimmering in sunshine, From morn until even-tide, ===a beautiful joy! =======W. Motherwell. THE OTTER-HOUND. WHEN the grey morning mist in the glen lies at rest, And the bright summer sun in full splendour is dress'd; While each far mountain top in his ray seems to be An island of gold on a silvery sea. Hark! the hunters already are down from the hill, With their otter-dogs tracking each streamlet and rill; And the voice of each echo replies to the sound Of the musical bay of the bold Otter-hound. 'Tis the sport of the brave, it has spirit to cheer When the hound's in the stream and the hand on the spear; To the light-balanced shaft well the hunter must look, For a stroke at the game or a bound o'er the brook. As swift down the stream sweeps the quarry they chase, Yet sure are the hounds, tho' far slower in pace; While freshens the scent at each hillock or mound, And loud rings the bay of the Water-train'd hound. The vents grow more frequent, the music more deep, And scarce from the surface the otter can keep; While gallant and staunch the whole pack make a rush, As his form from the pool stirs the wild willow-bush. The battle now rages, the game brought to bay, The wounded dogs yelling and limping away; But the point of a spear pins him fast to the ground, And his blood is the spoil of the Water-bred hound! The hound of the Border which hunted the Tweed, Were a cross from the Yetholm and Rothbury breed; StrongIy cast in their limbs, muzzles drooping and full, With a haunch like a race-horse, a breast like a bull- Broad pendulous ears hanging over each jaw, Feet webb'd like a duck to the root of each claw- Deep, mellow, and strong, like a bugle in sound, Is the call from the voice of the true Otter-hound. 8till like spells of romance o'er my spirit is cast, The sports that I loved and the scenes that are past- When with hound at my heel, or my angle in hand, I wandered the wilds of my own border land; And shared my repast at the streamlet or spring, With stalwart Will Faa, the brave old Gipsy King; And heard him recite to the sportsmen around, The feats of his youth with the brave Water-hound. I loved the old man for his love of the chace, Like a ruin he stands now the last of his race; For the tide of Improvement, the strength of the law, Have ruined the subjects and sway of Will Faa: Still the fire from his eye as those stories he told, Took the chill from a heart once so free and so bold; Tho' lonely he lived, still companion he found In Beaumont, his faithful old Water-trained hound. =======Mr A. Foster. ARNISTON. A HEART SONG. O ARNISTON! sweet Arniston! =Dear, dear art thou to me; For wandering 'mang thy leafy woods, =My wife and bairnies three Hae gathered rose-bloom on their cheeks, =Now dimpled high wi' glee, That lately sad and dowie dwined, =In death's dark hame wi' me. O Arniston! fair Arniston! =By burn and flowery brae, By upland lawn and craggy glens, =How sweet at eve to stray! While round us a' our blooming pets =Their joyous pranks resume, An' romp like fays amang thy braes, =Thick strewn wi' gowden broom. O Arniston! dear Arniston! =My first, my greatest grief, Mid thy lone woods, in tears of joy, =Felt genial kind relief. The cushet loes thy forest glades, =The lark thy verdant lea; But by dim memory's grateful ties =Thou'rt knit to mine and me. =======James Ballantine. THE HAPPY MOTHER. AIR, - '_The Hills o' Glenorchy._' AN' O! may I never live single again- I wish I may never live single again; I hae a gudeman, an' a hame o' my ain, An' O! may I never live single again. I've twa bonnie bairns the fairest of a', They cheer up my heart when their daddie's awa'? I've ane at my foot, an' I've ane on my knee, An' fondly they look, an' say, 'Mammy' to me. At gloamin' their daddie comes in frae the plough The blink in his ee, an' the smile on his brow, Says, 'How are ye lassie, O! how are ye a', An' how's the wee bodies sin' I gade awa'?' He sings i' the e'enin' fu' cheerie an' gay - He tells o' the toil an' the news o' the day; The twa bonnie lammies he taks on his knee, An' blinks o'er the ingle fu' couthie to me. O! happy's the father that's happy at hame, An' blythe is the mither that's blythe o' the name; The frown o' the warld they hae na to dree - The warld is naething to Johnny an' me. Tho' crosses will mingle wi' mitherly cares, Awa', bonnie lasses - awa' wi' your fears; Gin ye get a laddie that's loving an' fain, Ye'll wish ye may never live single again. =======Alex Laing. NO-COME NOT, MY LIFE. No-come not, my life! till the gay sun is waking =The slumbering flowers of a distant land; Till the pensive moon on the still heaven breaking, =Greets, like a mother, her starry band. As the planet of love leaves, silent and lonely, =The coral caves of a waveless sea; So come to the bower, where thou art the only =One that will ever be met by me. Thy voice is the music of Memory, swelling, =Through clefts, a grief-stricken heart hath known, Like the autumn winds through some tenantless dwelling =Making, by fits, a desolate moan. And pleasant it is, in the moments of sorrow, =To have thy spirit to meet with mine, That its dream may be blessed, and its dark mood borrow =A beam from the holier light of thine. Then come all alone, when the happy lie sleeping, =When night-dews sparkle on flower and tree; One tear from thine eye, while our sad watch we're keeping, =More than dew to the flower will be to me. Let the icy of soul, or the hopeful-hearted, =Sport in the blaze of the regal sun; 'Tis meet, love, that we, from whom joy hath departed, =Should wait and weep when his course is run. =======Will. Kennedy. HE COURTED ME IN PARLOUR. He courted me in parlour, and he courted me in ha', He courted me by Bothwell banks, amang the flowers sae sma', He courted me wi' pearlins, wi' ribbons, and wi' rings, He courted me wi' laces, and wi' mony mair braw things; But O! he courted best o' a' wi' his black blythesome ee, Whilk wi' a gleam o' witcherie cuist glaumour over me. We hied thegither to the Fair - I rade ahint my joe, I fand his heart leap up and doun, while mine beat faint and low; He turn'd his rosy cheek about, and then, ere I could trow The widdifu' o' wickedness took arles o' my mou! Syne, when I feigned to be sair fleyed, sae pawkily as he Bann'd the auld mare for missing fit, and thrawin him ajee. And aye he waled the loanings lang, till we drew near the town, When I could hear the kimmers say - 'There rides a comelie loun!' I turned wi' pride and keeked at him, but no as to be seen, And thought how dowie I wad feel gin he made love to Jean! But soon the manly chiel, aff-hand, thus frankly said to me, 'Meg! either tak me to yoursel, or set me fairly free!' To Glasgow Green I linkd wi' him, to see the ferlies there, He birled his penny wi' the best - what noble could do mair? But ere an fit he'd tak me hame, he cries - 'Meg, tell me noo: Gin ye will hae me, there's my loof, I'll aye be leal an' true.' On sic an honest, loving heart how could I draw a bar? What could I do but tak Rab's hand, for better or for waur? =======William Motherwell. AE GUDE TURN DESERVES ANITHER. YE maunna be proud, although ye be great, =The poorest bodie is still your brither; The king he may come in the cadger's gate, An' ae gude turn aye deserves anither. The hale o' us spring frae the same cauld clay =An hour we bloom, in an hour we wither; Then let us help ither to climb the brae, =As ae gude turn aye deserves anither. Tho highest amang us are unco wee, =Frae Heaven we get a' our gifts thegither; Then let us divide what we get so free, =As ae gude turn aye deserves anither. O! life is a weary journey alane, =But blythe's the road when we wend wi' ither; And mutual gie'ing is mutual gain, =When ae guda turn aye deserves anither. =======James Ballantine. THE SEASON OF LOVE. THE spirit of Beauty's abroad o'er the land, Mother Earth dons her robes at the touch of his wand, And the daisy comes forth, and the blossoms expand, =And the fair face o' Nature looks gaily. There's music, sweet music, in woodland and hill, There's a song in the breeze, there's a tune in the rill, And the merie and the mavis are singing their fill, =Till echo rings down in the valley. And Summer, his beautiful Queen, with her train, Comes strewing her roses wide over the plain; And the lark in the cloud sings her welcome again, =As she trips it along so airy. The carpet they tread is the brightest of green, Enamel'd with flowers of the loveliest sheen, And the traces are left of their gambols yestreen, =In the haunts of the fay and the fairy. 'Tis the season of gladness, of joy, and of love, Within us, around us - below, and above; On the earth, in the air, and the stream and the grove, =All Nature is striving to please us. Then how happy to rove in a season like this, Wi' a sweet bonnie lassie wha'll no tak' amiss, Wi' an arm roun' her waist, tho' we steal a bit kiss, =In the gloamin' when naebody sees us! Oh! love it will last while the world can go round, In spite o' the icicle tribe, I'll be bound- Whase cauld frozen blood still at zero is found, =Or but thaws in the height of a fever. Love-love's been supreme sin' the warld it began, It's the tocher o' woman! the birthright of man! An' nane worth the name, but hae join'd in the plan, =An' will be its votaries for ever. =======Robt. L. Malone. O SAY NOT PURE AFFECTIONS CHANGE! O SAY not pure affections change =When fixed they once have been, Or that between two noble hearts =Hate e'er can intervene! Though coldness for a while may freeze =The love-springs of the soul, Though angry pride its sympathies =May for a time control, Yet such estrangement cannot last- =A tone, a touch, a look, Dissolves at once the icyness =That crisp'd affection's brook; Again they feel the genial glow =Within the bosom burn, And all their pent-up tenderness =With tenfold force return! =======W. Motherwell. THE NAMELESS LASSIE. _Music by_ ALEXANDER MACKENZIE, Esq. THERE'S nane may ever guess or trow my bonnie lassie's name; There's nane may ken the humble cot my lassie ca's her hame; Yet tho' my lassie's nameless, an' her kin o' low degree, Her heart is warm, her thoughts are pure, an' O! she's dear to me; Her heart is warm, her thoughts are pure, an' O! she's dear to me. She's gentle as she's bonnie, an' she's modest as she's fair; Her virtues, like her beauties a', are varied as they're rare; While she is light an' merry as the lammie on the lea, For happiness an' innocence thegither aye maun be! When she unveils her blooming face the flowers may cease to blaw; An' when she ope's her hinnied lips, the air is music a'; But when wi' ither's sorrows touched, the tear starts to her ee, Oh! that's the gem in beauty's crown, the priceless pearl to me. Within my soul her form's enshrined, her heart is a' my ain; An' richer prize, or purer bliss, nae mortal e'er can gain; The darkest paths o' life I tread wi steps o' bounding glee, Cheered onward by the love that lights my nameless lassie's ee! =======James Ballantine. THE RAVEN. AIR - '_Row weel, my boatie, row weel._' SING low, pretty linnet, sing low, =The raven comes down from his nest; The castle-wood rings With the flap of his wings, =Sing low till the spoiler is past.' The dear little linnet sung low, =Till past flew the fierce bird of prey, And then, O! how clear On echo's glad ear, =The linnet renew'd her sweet lay. Had I, like the linnet, sung low, =As warn'd like her I had been; Or thought of the blight That follow'd his flight- =The spoiler had pass'd me unseen. But vain of my voice and my song, =And proud of his praise and his vow, I fell-hapless hour- And ah! never more =Will sing as the linnet sings now! =======Alex Laing. THE PEARLY BROW. AIR - '_The Shepherd's Wife._' Arranged as a Duet, and sung by Miss ISSACS and Mr HAIGH in the Operetta of 'The Provost's Daughter.' 'OH! whaur gat ye that pearly brow, An' whaur gat ye that rosy mou, An' whaur gat ye thae een sae blue, =That play sic pranks on mine, joe?' 'The ne'er a pearl there's on my brow, The ne'er a rose blaws on my mou, My een ye canna ken they're blue, =They ne'er were raised to thine, joe.' 'Ae glance, ae sparkling glance was mine, An' hope has dwalt wi' me sinsyne; Then let these stars in mercy shine =On him wha worships thee, joe.' 'Seek stars in heaven, for there they shine, Gae worship at some holy shrine, Pay homage to some saint divine, =Ye maunna worship me, joe.' 'But I maun love, and loving seek Like love frae thee, sae pure and meek; Then dinna that fair bosom steek ='Gainst ane wha loves but thee, joe.' The lassie blushed, she couldna speak, Deep crimson roses flushed her check, While wi' a silent sidelang keek, =She shower'd love's light on me, joe. =======James Ballantine. BAITH SIDES O' THE PICTURE. AIR, - '_Willie was a Wanton Wag._' GIN ye hae pence, ye will hae sense, =Gin ye hae nought, ye will hae nane, When I had cash, I was thought gash, =And my advice by a' was taen; The rich and poor then thrang'd my door, =The very dog cam' for his bane, My purse, my ha', were tree to a', =And I was roosed by ilka ane. Guid freens, and true, I had enow, =Wha to oblige me aye were fain, Gin I but said, 'I want your aid,' =I didna need to say't again. Whene'er I spak, and tald my crack, =Loud plaudits I was sure to gain; For like word, howe'er absurd, =Was for undoubted wisdom taen. At catch or glee, I bore the gree, =For music's powers were a' my ain; And when I sang, the hale house rang, =Wi' rapturous encores again. At pun or jest I shone the best, =For nane had sic a fertile brain; My jibes and jokes, my satire strokes, =Were-like my wine-a' kindly taen. But when I brak', and gaed to wrack, =Ilk gowden prospect fairly gane, My judgment wi' my wealth did flee, =And a' my sense was frae me taen; Nor rich, nor poor, cam' near my door =My freens a' vanished ane by ane; Nor word, nor crack, was worth a plack, =For I was listened to by nane. My jests and wit, they wadna hit, =My singing met wi' cauld disdain, The distant look, or dry rebuke, =Was a' that e'er I could obtain. But, thatns to Gude, I've fortitude, =Adversity's sour cup to drain, And ae true freen, as e'er was seen, =And that's the Dog that shares my bane. =======Alex Rodger. BONNIE BONALY. _Music by_ ALEX. MACKENZIE, Esq. BONNIE Bonaly's wee fairy led stream, Murmurs and sobs like a child in a dream; Falling where silver light gleams on its breast, GLiding through nooks where the dark shadows rest, Flooding with music its own tiny valley, Dances in gladness the stream o' Bonaly. Proudly Bonaly's grey-browed Castle towers, Bounded by mountains, and bedded in flowers- Here hangs the blue bell, and there waves the broom; Nurtured by art, rarest garden sweets bloo,. Heather and thyme scent the breezes that dally, Playing amid the green knolls o' Bonaly. Pentland's high hills raise their heather-crowned crest, Peerless Edina expands her white breast, Beauty and grandeur are blent in the scene, Bonnie Bonaly lies smiling between. Nature and art, like fair twins, wander gaily; Friendship and Love dwell in Bonnie Bonaly. =======James Ballantine. THE HUNTER'S WELL. LIFE of this wilderness, =Pure gushing stream, Dear to the Summer =Is thy murmuring! Note of the song bird, =Warbling on high, Ne'er with my spirit made =Such harmony As do thy deep waters, =O'er rock, leaf, and flower Bubbling and babbling =The long sunny hour! Tongue of this desert spot, =Spelling sweet tones, To the mute listeners- =Old mossy stones; Who ranged these stones near =Thy silver rim. Guarding the temple =Where rises thy hymn? Some thirst-stricken Hunter- =Swarth priest of the wood, Around thee hath strewn them, =In fond gratitude. Orb of the green waste, =Open and clear, Friend of the Hunter, =Loved of the deer; Brilliantly breaking =Beneath the blue sky, Gladdening the leaflets =That tremulous sigh; Star of my wandering, =Symbol of love, Lead me to dream of =The Fountain above! =======William Motherwell. A BONNIE BRIDE IS EASY BUSKIT. _To a Melody by_ Mr ALEX MACKENZIE. 'COME Mary, dinna say me nay, But fix at ance our bridal day; Let love dispel your doubts for aye, =And dinna let your brow be duskit. Although I canna cleed ye braw, And tho' my house and mailen's sma', Your angel form will hallow a'- =A bonnie bride is easy buskit.' 'O dinna press our bridal now, But rest content ye hae my vow, My father's frozen breast will thowe, =So let the spring-fed burnie gather, He says my weal is a' his care, He bends, I streak his siller hair, He weeps, I breathe a silent prayer- =I daurna leave my dear auld father.' 'Alack I your father's fond o' gear, At my poor suit again he'll sneer, And I maun lose thee, Mary dear, =Unless his angry ban ye risk it. But gin our humble cot he'll share, He'll welcome be, ye'll nurse him there; I seek yoursel, I ask nae mair- =A bonnie bride is easy buskit.' Unseen the carie stands listening by, Wi' smiling mou md glistening eye; He hears his Mary heave a sigh, =And out he bawls in tones sae huskit: 'Here tak her, Rab, my blessing hae, Your kindly heart has won the day; And be your bridal when it may, =Your bride shall be fu' brawly buskit.' =======James Ballantine. IF TO THY HEART I WERE AS NEAR. IF to thy heart I were as near =As thou art near to mine, I'd hardly care though a' the year Nae sun on earth suld shine, my dear, =Nae sun on earth suld shine? Twin starnies are thy glancin' een- =A warld they'd licht and mair- And gin that ye be my Christine, Ae blink to me ye'll spare, my dear, =Ae blink to me ye'll spare! My leesome May I've wooed too lang- =Aneath the trystin' tree, I've sung till a' the plantins rang, Wi' lays o' love for thee, my dear, =Wi' lays o' love for thee. The dew-draps glisten on the green, =The laverocks lilt on high, We'll forth and doun the loan, Christine, And kiss when nane is nigh, my dear, =And kiss when nane is nigh! =======W. Motherwell. WEE ANNIE O' AUCHINEDEN. A GOWDEN dream thou art to me, From shades of earth and evil free; An angel form of love and glee, =Wee Annie o' Auchineden. Thy mither's cheek was wet and pale, While aft in sighs her words wad fail, As in mine ear she breathed thy tale. =Wee Annie o' Auchineden. That low sweet voice through many a year, If life is mine, shall haunt my ear, Which pictured thee with smile and tear, =Wee Annie o' Auchineden. Lone was thy hame upon the moor, 'Mang dark brown heaths and mountains hoar; Thou wert a sunbeam at the door, =Wee Annie o' Auchineden. A winsome beild was thine, I ween, Far peeping o'er its belt o' green, Wi' curls o' reek in summer's sheen, =Wee Annie o' Auchineden. Sweet-scented nurslings o' sun and dew, In bosky faulds o' the burn that grew, Were the only mates thy bairnhood knew, =Wee Annie o' Auchineden. But the swallow biggit aneath the caves, And the bonnie cock-shilfa 'mang the leaves Aft lilted to thee in the silent eves, =Wee Annie o' Auchineden. Ilk fairy blossom ye kent by name, And birds to thy side all fearless came, Thy winning tongue could the wildest tame, =Wee Annie o' Auchineden. There's a deep, deep lore in hearts o' love, And kindness has charms a' charms above; 'Twas thine the cauldest breast to move, =Wee Annie o' Auchineden. But the auld folk shook their heads to see Sic wisdom lent to a bairn like thee; And they sighed, 'Lang here ye wadna be, =Wee Annie o' Auchineden. And thou wert ta'en frae this world o' tears Unstained by the sorrow or sin of years; Thy voice is now in the angels' ears, =Wee Annie o' Auchineden. Thy mither's ee has been dimmed with wae- The licht o' her smile has past away; But a better home is thine for aye, =Wee Annie o' Auchineden. There's an eerie blank at yon fireside, And sorrow has crush'd the hearts of pride; For sair in thy loss their faith was tried, =Wee Annie o' Auchineden. The primrose glints on the Spring's return, The merle sings blythe to the dancin' burn; But there's ae sweet flower we aye shall mourn =Wee Annie o' Auchineden. Life's waning day wears fast awa'- The mirk, murk gloamin' soon shall fa'; To death's dark porch we journey a', =Wee Annie o' Auchineden. When the weary wark o' the world is dune, And the streams o' the heart hae ceased to rin May we meet wi' thee in thy hame abune, =Wee Annie o' Auchineden. =======Hugh MacDonald. THE MERMAIDEN. THE nicht is mirk, and the wind blaws schill, =And the white faem weets my bree, And my mind misgi'es me, gay maiden, =That the land we sall never see!' Then up and spak' the mermaiden, =And she spak' blythe and free, 'I never said to my bonnie bridegroom, =That on land we sud weddit be. 'Oh! I never said that ane erthlie priest =Our bridal blessing should gi'e, And I never said that a landwart bouir =Should hauld my love and me.' 'And whare is that priest, my bonnie maiden, =If ane erthlie wicht is na he?' 'Oh! the wind will sough, and the sea will rair, =When weddit we twa sall be.' 'And whare is that bouir, my bonnie maiden, =If on land it sud na be?' 'Oh! my blythe bouir is low,' said the mermaiden ='In the bonnie green howes of the sea: My gay bouir is biggit o' the gude ships' keels, =And the banes o' the drowned at sea; The fish are the deer that fill my parks, =And the water waste my dourie. 'And my bouir is sklaitit wi' the big blue waves, =And paved wi' the yellow sand, And in my chaumers grow bonnie white flowers =That never grew on land. And have ye e'er seen, my bonnie bridegroom, =A leman on earth that wud gi'e Aiker for aiker a' the red plough'd land, =As I'll gi'e to thee o' the sea? The mune will rise in half ane hour, =And the wee bright starns will shine; Then we'll sink to my bouir, 'neath the wan water =Full fifty fathom and nine!' A wild, wild skreich gi'ed the fey bridegroom, =And a loud, loud lauch, the bride; For the mune raise up, and the twa sank down =Under the silver'd tide. =======W. Motherwell. THE CHILDLESS WIDOW. _Published to a Melody by_ PETER M'LEOD. O WHAUR gat ye that manly bairn? =I ance had ane his marrow, Who shone out like a heavenly starn, =Amid my nicht o' sorrow. Nae ferlie that I lo'e your wean, =An' o' his sweets envy ye, For my poor heart, sae sad and lane, =Grows glad when I am nigh ye. My boy was fair, my boy was brave =Wi' yellow ringlets flowing; But now he sleeps in yon cauld grave, =Sweet flowerets o'er him growing. When his dear father joined the blest, =I fain wad hae gane wi' him; But that sweet child clung to my breast, =I couldna gang an' lea' him. My boy he grew, he better grew, =Nae marrow had he growin', Till ae snell blast that on us blew, =Set my sweet bud a dowin.' But aye as dowed the outward rind, =The core it grew the dearer, And aye as his frail body dwined, =His mind it shone the clearer. O bright, bright shone his sparklin ee- =His cheek the pillow pressing; He cast his last sad glance on me- ='Sweet mother, hae my blessing.' Then oh! the childless heart forgie, =That canna but envy ye; For still that ee seems fixed on me, =While thus I linger by ye. =======James Ballantine. SONG OF THE SHIP. ==WHEN surly winds and gruesome clouds ===Are tilting in the sky, ==And every little star's abed, ===That glimmered cheerily- ==O then 'tis meet for mariners ===To steer right carefully! ==For mermaids sing the shipman's dirge, ===Where ocean weds the sky- A blessing on our gude ship as lustily she sails, O what can match our gude ship when blest with favouring gales! ==Blythely to the tall top-mast, ===Up springs the sailor boy- ==Could he but hail a distant port, ===How he would leap with joy! ==By bending yard and rope he swings- ===A fair-haired child of glee- ==But oh! a cruel saucy wave ===Hath swept him in the sea! There's sadness in the gude ship that breasts the waters wild, Though safe ourselves we'll think with tears of our poor ocean-child! ==Our main-mast now is clean cut down, ===The tackle torn away- ==And thundering o'er the stout ship's side, ===The seas make fearful play! ==Yet cheerily, cheerily on we go, ===Though fierce the tempest raves, ==We know the Hand unseen that guides ===The ship o'er stormy waves! We'll all still stand by the old ship as should a trusty crew, For He who rules the wasting waves may some port bring to view! ==Our good ship is a shapely ship- ===A shapely and a strong- ==Our hearts sang to our noble ship, ===As she careered along! ==And fear ye not, my sturdy mates, ===Though sails and masts be riven- ==We know, while drifting o'er the deep, ===Above there's still a haven! Though sorely we're benighted upon the weltering foam The sun may rise upon the morn and guide us to a home! =======W. Motherwell. THE BARD OF ARMAGH. AIR, - '_The Exile of Erin._' OH! list to the lay of a poor Irish Harper, =Though wayward and fitful his old withered hand; Remember his touch once was bolder and sharper, =When raising the strains of his dear native land. Long before the shamrock, our isle's lovely emblem, =Was crush'd in its bloom 'neath the Saxon lion's paw, I was called by the coleens around me assembling, =Their bold Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh! Oh! how I love to muse on the days of my boyhood, =Tho' fourscore and three years have flitted since then! Still it gives sweet reflection, as ev'ry first joy should, =For free-hearted boys make the best of ould men. At the fair or the wake I could twirl my shillelah, =Or trip through the jig in my brogues bound wi' straw Faith, all the pretty girls in the village and the valley, =Loved bould Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh! Now tho' I have wander'd this wide world over, =Still Ireland's my home and a parent to me; Then O! let the turf that my bosom shall cover, =Be cut from the ground that is trod by the free! And when in his cold arms Death shall embrace me, =Och! lull me asleep wid sweet Erin go Bragh! By the side of my Kathlin, my first love, O! place me; =She loved Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh! I PLUCK'D THE BERRY. I PLUCK'D the berry from the bush, the brown nut from the tree, But heart of happy little bird ne'er broken was by me: I saw them in their curious nests close couched, and slyly peer, With their wild eyes like glittering beads, to note if harm were near: I passed them by, and blessed them all; I felt that it was good To leave unharmed God's creatures small, whose home is in the wood. And here, even now, above my head, a lusty rogue doth sing; He pecks his swelling breast and neck, and trims his little wing: He will not fly; he knows full well, while chirping on that spray, I would not harm him for a world, or interrupt his lay. Sing on, sing on, blythe bird! and fill my heart with summer gladness: It has been aching many a day with measures full of sadness. =======William Motherwell. MY WILLIE AN' ME. MY minny is pawky, my minny is slee, She keeps me aye close 'neath the kep o' her ee; She bids me gae nurse my young billie awee, But wots nae how sleely my Willie woos me. What ails my auld minny at Willie an' me? How e'er can my minny wyte Willie an' me, When nought but the wean an' the wee butterflee Can see the stoun kiss o' my Willie an' me? My grandfather suns himsel' on the door-stane, And dreams o' my grandmother lang dead and gane, He gazes on heaven wi' his lustreless ee,- They surely ance loved like my Willie an' me? I ken Willie's true, and I ken he's my ain, He courts nae for gear, an' he comes nae for gain; He leaves a' his flocks far outoure on yon lea, What true heart wad sinder my Willie an' me? Then what ails my minny at Willie an' me? She shouldna be sair on my Willie an' me; Her black ribboned snood brings the tear to my ee, But weel my dear father lo'ed Willie an' me. =======James Ballantine. HEIGH! HO! TELL me, Maiden, tell me truly, =Hast thou lost thy heart or no? In the charming month of July =Hearts will go a-wandering so; ====Is it so, ====Ay or no? =Hearts will go-with a-heigh! ho! Dew bespangles mead and mountain, =Sunbeams kiss, and flowerets blow; By the shady fell and fountain =Lovers will a-wooing go; ====Is it so, ====Ay or no? =Hearts will go-with a-heigh! ho! Ope thins eyes, and spare thy roses, =Thus outblushing Nature so; Love is still, and ne'er discloses =What the July gloamings know; ====Is it so, ====Ay or no? =Hearts will go-with a-heigh! ho! =======James Ballantine. 'DINNA FORGET.' AIR - '_When Adam at first was created._' COME, put on thy finger this ring, love; =And, when thou art far o'er the sea, Perhaps to thy mind it will bring, love, =Some thought-some remembrance-of me Our moments of rapture and bliss, love, =The haunts where so oft we have met, These tears, and this last parting kiss, love, =It tells thee-O 'dinna forget!' We might look on yonder fair moon, love, =Oft gazed on by us with delight, And think of each other alone, love, =At one sacred hour every night: But, ah! ere she'd rise to thy view, love, =To me, she long, long would be set; Then look to this token more true, love, =On thy finger-and 'dinna forget!' Thou mayest meet faces more fair, love, =And charms more attractive than mine; Be moved by a more winning air, love, =Or struck by a figure more fine: But, shouldst thou a brighter eye see, love, =Or ringlets of more glossy jet, Let this still thy talisman be, love, =Look on it, and 'dinna forget!' And, oh! when thou writest to me, love, =The sealing impress with this ring; And that a sweet earnest wiil be, love, =To which, with fond hope, I will cling; That thou to thy vows wilt he true, love; =That happiness waiteth us yet; One parting embrace-now adieu, love- =This moment I'll never forget! =======Alex. Rodger. AWAY, WHILE YET THY DAYS ARE FEW. AWAY, while yet thy days are few, forsake thy quiet home, And in a bark of buoyant hope on Life's wide waters roam: With Passion at the rudder, boy! steer bold for every shore Which to thy ardent fancy seems with sunshine glistening o'er, And gladden thee and madden thee with all the earth can give, Nor let thy bosom feel repose till thou hast learned to live. O'er many a glancing summer wave thou'lt find an island fair, A paradise of living flowers most beautitul and rare' Its beacon-fires are numberless, all lighted up by Love, And brighter than the brightest stars that grace the heavens above; And free to thee its flowers shall be,-the choicest thou may'st wear, If thou wilt stay thy morning course, and take thy haven there. If onward still thy bark must go-then onward lies a strand Whose towers and domes, of burning gold, proclaim a royal land.- Ambition holds a gallant sway o'er that imperial soil, And, loftily, will he repay thy danger and thy toil: His power can frame, from out thy name, a spell of joy, or pain, To make or mar, a nation's lot, if thou wilt bear his chain. But if, in Besuty's fairy isle, from blossoms fondly pressed- Though of all hues the sky hath known-thy soul should rise unblessed- And if, in the gigantic halls that zone Ambition's state, Thy heart beneath a diamond's blaze, feel cold and desolate, And if thy will incline thee still for other shores to steer, Yet no spot like the fancied one, to welcome thee appear; Then-I implore thee, by the name thy father gave to thee, And by the dust of her who bore thy weakness on her knee, That thou wilt not, however late, persuade thyself to stay, In recklessness, where joy, or peace afford no lasting ray; But, though estranged, and something changed, haste to thy quiet home, And spend thy days, as they were spent, ere thou hadst loarned to roam. =======Will. Kennedy. WHO'LL GO WITH ME? _Music by_ PETER M'LEOD, Esq. WHO'LL go with me over the sea, =Breasting the billows merrily? With a tight little ship, and a bright can of flip, =What heart but braves it cheerily? ==Winds may blow, ==High or low, =Steady, ready, merry, cheery, Jack's the go. The star of love that beams above, =Shines down all pure and holily; We'll brave the breeze, we'll sweep the seas, =With bosoms besting jollily: ==Winds may blow, ==High or low, =Steady, ready, merry, cheery, Jack's the go. Then, while we're afloat in our island boat, =Let's reef and steer her warily; And if our foes dare come to blows, =We'll meet them taut and yarily: ==Winds may blow, ==High or low, =Steady, ready, merry, cheery, Jack's the go. =======James Ballantine. TIME'S CHANGES. _To a Melody by_ KIESER. O DAYS long forgotten, why rise ye again, When all your remembrance brings sorrow and pain? =When she wha's fair picture was 'graved in your heart, =Appears shrunk an' faded, nae ferlie ye start. When he wha has taught ye, a bairn at the school, Wha's wise pow aye made ye a poor donner't fool, =Comes seekin' your aid, wi' his head hingin' low, =Oh! sair is the shock, aye, an' hard is the blow. The whiteheaded elder, whom lang syne ye mind, Was aye to your puir widowed mother sae kind; =When stricken wi' poortith, an' laden wi' years, =Ye help him, ye bless him, ye gie him your tears. The wee cockin' bailie ye liket sae weel, Wha aye was sae mensefu' wi' maut an' wi meal, =When fastin' has come, and when feastin's awa, =Ye mourn for his fate, an' ye feel for his fa'. Yon mansion sae hoary, ye mind a laird's ha', Now lane an' deserted, is crumbling awa'; =Ye think on the days the auld biggin' has seen, =An' thoughts of the past bring the tears to your een. Thus Time shows us a' what maun soon come to pass, We're backward to keek in his truth-telling glass; =New buds may sprout out frae the auld hoary tree, =But e'en these young buds soon maun wither an' dee. Yet, though your frail body maun mingle wi' clay, Sweet Virtue bears flowers that can never decay; =An' Oh! gin ye've grafted ae bud on her tree, =You'll see your ain flower blooming brightly on hie. =======James Ballantine. THE MASSACRE OF THE MACPHERSON (_From the Gaelic_) FHAIRSHON swore a feud =Against the clan M'Tavish, Marched into their land =To murder and to rafish; For he did resolve =To extirpate the vipers, With four-and-twenty men =And five-and-thirty piper; But when he had gone =Half-way down Strath Canaan, Of his fighting tail =Just three were remainin'. They were all he had, =To back him in ta battle; All the rest had gone =Off, to drive ta cattle. "Fery coot!" cried Fhairshon, ="So my clan disgraced is; Lads, we'll need to fight, =Before we touch the peasties. Here's Mhic-Mac-Methusaleh =Coming wi' his fassals, Gillies seventy-three, =And sixty Dhuinewassails!" "Coot tay to you, sir; =Are you not ta Fhairshon? Was you coming here =To fisit any person? You are a plackguard, sir! =It is now six hundred Coot long years, and more, =Since my glen was plundered." "Fat is tat you say? =Dare you cock your peaver? I will teach you, sir, =Fat is coot pehaviour! You shall not exist =For another day more; I will shoot you, sir, =Or stap you with my claymore!" "I am fery glad, =To learn what you mention, Since I can prevent =Any such intention." So Mhic-Mac-Methusaleh =Gave some warlike howls, Trew his skhian-dhu, =An' stuck it in his powels In this fery way =Tied ta failiant Fhairshon, Who was always thought =A superior person. Fhairshon had a son, =Who married Noah's daughter; And nearly spoiled ta Flood, =By trinking up ta water: Which he would have done, =I at least pelieve it, Had ta mixture peen =Only half Glenlivet. This is all my tale: =Sirs, I hope 'tis new t'ye! Here's your fery good healths, =And tamn ta whusky duty! =======Professor Aytoum. THE TABLE OF FEES. AIR - "_The Laird o' Cockpen._" O, How oft hae I heard =That our whole stock-in-trade Is a desk for a yaird, =And a pen for a spade; While it maun be agreed =There's a world's guid in these, Yet nor best pock of seed =Is the table o' fees. For the desk and the stule, =Wi' a sigh let me say, May be props for a fule =At the end of the day. But like manna and snaw, =Or a peek o' white peas, For the doves o' the law =Is the table o' fees. Let the merchantman boast =O' his fine speculations, And the clergyman hoast =O'er his teinds' allocations, For a steady on-cost, =Banking up the bawbees, Like a warm dreepin' roast =Is the table o' fees. Man! it gangs wi' a clack! =Like a mill makin' flour; Three-and-fourpence a crack! =Six-and-eightpence an hour; Half-a-crown for a wink, =And a shillin' a sneeze, Come like stour o' sma' ink =Frae the table o' fees. I could hand ye my stule, =Ruler, ink-horn, and dask, I could hand ye my quill, =Or whate'er ye micht ask; And could yet wi' my tongue- =Whilk nae man can appease- Fill a cask to the bung =Frae the table o' fees. =======Robert Bird. WHERE GADIE RINS. OH, an' I were where Gadie rins, Where Gadie rins, where Gadie rins, Oh, an' I were where Gadle rins, =At the back o' Benochie. I wish I were where Gadie rins, 'Mang fragrant heath and yellow whins, Or, brawlin' doun the bosky linns, =At the back o' Benochie; To hear ance mair the blackbird's sang, To wander birks and brass amang, Wi' frien's and fav'rites, left sae lang, =At the back o' Benochie. How mony a day, in blythe spring-time, How mony a day, in summer's prime, I wiled awa' my careless time =On the heights o' Benochie. Ah, Fortune's flowers wi' thorns are rife, And waith is won wi' grief and strife- Ae day gi'e me o' youthfu' life =At the back o' Benochie. Oh, Mary! there on ilka nicht, When baith our hearts were young and licht, We've wandered, when the moon was bricht, =Wi' speeches fond and free. O! ance, ance mair, where Gadie rins, Where Gadie rins, where Gadie rins- Oh! micht I dee where Gadie rins =At the back o' Benochie. =======JOHN PARK, D.D. THE ANNUITY. AIR - "_Duncan Davidson._" I GAED to spend a week in Fife- An unco week it proved to be- For there I met a waesome wife =Lamentin' her viduity. Her grief brak out sae fierce and fell, I thought her heart wad burst the shell; And - I was sae left tae mysel'- =I sell't her an annuity. The bargain lookit fair eneugh- She just was turned o' saxty-three; I couldna guessed she'd prove sae teugh, =By human ingenuity. But years have come, and years have gane, And there she's yet as stieve's a stane- The limmer's growin' young again, =Since she get her annuity. She's crined awa' to bane and skin, But that it seems is nought to me; She's likc to live-although she's in =The last stage o' tenuity. She munches wi' her wizened gums, An' stomps about on legs o' thrums, But comes-as sure as Christmas comes- =To ca' for her annuity. She jokes her joke, an' cracks her crack, As spunkie as a grewin' flea- An' there she sits upon my back, =A livin' perpetuity. She hurkles by her logic side, An' toasts an' tans her wrunkled bide- Lord kens how lang she yet may bide =To ca' for her annuity! I read the tables drawn wi' care For an Insurance Company; Her chance o' life was stated there, =Wi' perfect perspicuity. But tables here or tables there, She's lived ten years beyond her share, An's like to live a dizzen mair, =To ca' for her annuity. I gat the loon that drew the deed- We spelled it o'er right carefully;- In vain he yerked his souple head, =To find an ambiguity: It's dated-tested-a' complete- The proper stamp-nae word delete- And diligence, as on decreet, =May pass for her annuity. Last Yule she had a fearfu' hoast- I thought a kink might set me free; I led her out, 'mang snaw and frost, =Wi' constant assiduity. But Diel ma' care-the blast gaed by, And missed the auld anatomy; It just cost me a tooth, forbye =Discharging her annuity. I thought that grief might gar her quit- Her only son was lost at sea- But aff her wits behuved to flit, =An' leave her in fatuity! She threeps, an' threeps, he's livin' yet, For a' the tellin' she can get; But catch the doited runt forget =To ca' for her annuity! If there's a sough o' cholera Or typhus-wha sae gleg as she? She buys up baths, an' drugs, an' a', =In siccan superfluity! She doesna need-she's fever proof- The pest gaed ower her very roof; She tauld me sae-an' then her loof =Held out for her annuity. Ae day she fell-her arm she brak,- A compound fracture as could be; Nae Leech the cure wad undertak, =Whate'er was the gratuity. It's cured! She handles't like a flail- It does as weel in bits as hale; But I'm a broken man mysel' =Wi' her and her annuity. Her broozled flesh and broken banes, Are weel as flesh an' banes can be, She beats the taeds that live in stanes, =An' fatten in vacuity! They die when they're exposed to air- They canna thole the atmosphere, But her! expose her onywhere- =She lives for her annuity. If mortal means could nick her thread, Sma' crime it wad appear to me; Ca't murder-or ca't homicide- =I'd justify't-an' do it tae. But how to fell a withered wife That's carved out o' the tree o' life- The timmer limmer daurs the knife =To settle her annuity. I'd try a shot. - But whar's the mark?- Her vital parts are hid frae me; Her back-bane wanders through her sark =In an unkenn'd corkscrewity. She's palsifled-an' shakes her head Sae fast about, ye scarce can see't; It's past the power o' steel or lead =To settle her annuity. She might be drowned; - but go she'll not Within a mile o' loch or sea;- Or hanged-if cord could grip a throat =O' siccan exiguity. It's fitter far to hang the rope- It draws out like a telescope; 'Twad tak a dreadfu' length o' drop =To settle her annuity. Will puzion do 't? - It has been tried; But, be't in hash or fricassee, That's just the dish she can't abide, =Whatever kind o' _gout_ it hae. It's needless to assail her doubts,- She gangs by instinct-like the brutes- An' only eats an' drinks what suits =Hersel' an' her annuity. The Bible says the age o' man Threescore an' ten perchance may be; She's ninety-four; - let them wha can =Explain the incongruity. She should has lived afore the Flood- She's come o' Patriarchal blood- She's some auld Pagan, mummified =Alive for her annuity. She's been embalmed inside and out- She's sauted to the last degree- There's pickle in her very snout =Sae caper-like an' cruety; Lot's wife was flesh compared to her; They've Kyanised the useless knir- She canna decompose-nae mair =Than her accursed annuity. The water-drap wears out the rock As this eternal jaud wears me; I could withstand the single shock, =But no the continuity. It's pay me here-an' pay me there- An' pay me, pay me, evermair; I'll gang demented wi' despair- =I'm _charged_ for her annuity! =======GEORGE OUTRAM. THE LIFEBOAT. Ho! build the Lifeboat, heart and hand; Quick! take the many-voiced command! The black-wing'd tempest downward dips, Like death on night-bewilder'd ships. Let wrinkled age and valiant youth Close rib it as with ribs of truth; Send home each trusty bolt, for love Of man below and God above. Lo! where it stands, fine-moulded, sleek, A thing of truth from stern to beak; No lie in it - but worthy Thee, O Pilot of Lake Galilee! So, bless it, eager lips and leal, Each plank and bolt, from prow to heel! And dash, O maid, the bold bright wine, And send it on its course divine! Ho! man the Lifeboat, while the North Whistles the bristling tempest forth: Bravely! and God will guide the keel, Ye hearts of oak, and hands of steel! Now launch it, launch it! fling it free, Into the boundless-bosom'd sea: Pause not, though death pursue amain- Death is no end, but endless gain? =======WILLIAM FREELAND. THE SPINNING MAIDEN. O THE sweet sound! I know it well; It draws me like a heavenly spell: My lady spins, and with her wheel My soul is charmed, my senses reel: And all the world doth change its hue; The very blossoms bloom anew. =I pause, I listen, I adore: =O maiden, spin for evermore! Ah, still she spins-my lady spins, And vanished are my fears and sins; For now she sings a wondrous song, Whose music, sweet, and pure, and strong, Seems drawn by some diviner art From the new heaven within my heart: =I pause, I listen, I adore: =O maiden, sing for evermore! See what a light is in her eye, Where beauty dwells with chastity! And see how truth has crowned her brow, Unwrinkled by a broken vow! And hear how, from her rosy mouth, Warble the song birds of the south! =I pause, I listen, I adore: =O maiden, bloom for evermore? My lady spins, and sings, and blooms For me, - yet all the world illumes. She listens, dreamlike,-can she guess That I behold her loveliness? Some vision charms her,-can it be Our honeymoon beyond the sea? =With very love my heart is sore: =O maiden, maiden, spin no mere! =======WILLIAM FREELAND. BIRD SONG. BLACKBIRD, O Blackbird, =What makes you sing sae clear? "I sing, for aye my heart sings =In springtime o' the year: I sing to please my dearie, =At hame in yonder tree, Within our nest sae cosie, =Sae dear to her and me." Laverock, O Laverock. =What makes you sing sae sweet? "I sing, for aye my heart sings =In sunshine or in weet: I sing to please my dearie, =At hame on yonder lea, A heaven o' wings and daisies, =Sae dear to her and me." Ploughman, O Ploughman, =What makes you sing sae bold? "I sing, for aye my heart sings =In cloud or sun or cold: I sing to please my dearie, =The flower o' yonder farm; Her lips are opening roses, =Her e'en a heavenly charm." Milkmaid, O Milkmaid, =What makes you lilt sae fine? "I lilt, for aye my heart lilts =In shadow or in shine: I lilt to please my dearie, =The Ploughman brave and free; He lo'es me, and I lo'e him, =My gudeman soon to be." =======WILLIAM FREELAND. THE WAGGIN' O' OUR DOG'S TAIL. AIR - "_The barrin' o' the door._" WE hae a dog that wags his tail =(He's a bit o' a wag himsel', O!) Every day he gangs down the town, =At night his news to tell, O! ==The waggin' o' our dog's tail, bow-wow! ==The waggin' o' our dog's tail! He saw the provost o' the town =Parading down the street, O! Quo' he, "Ye're no like me, my lord, =For ye canna see your feet, O!" ==The waggin', &c. He saw a man grown unco' poor, =And looking sad and sick, O! Quo' he, "Cheer up. for ilka dog =Has aye a bane to pick, O!" ==The waggin', &c. He saw a man wi' mony a smile, =Wi'out a grain o' sowl, O! Quo' he, "I've noticed mony a dog =Could bite and never growl, O!" ==The waggin', &c. He saw a man look gruff and cross, =Wi'out a grain o' spite, O! Quo' he, "He's like a hantle dogs =Whose bark is waur than their bite, O!" ==The waggin', &c. He saw an M.P. unco' proud, =Because o' power and pay, O! Quo' he, "Yer tail is cocket heigh, =But ilka dog has his day, O!" ==The waggin', &c. He saw some ministers fighting hard, =And a' frae a bit o' pride, O! "It's a pity," quo' he, "when dogs fa' out =Aboot their ain fireside, O!" ==The waggin', &c. He saw a man gaun staggerin' hame, =His face baith black and blue, O! Quo' he, "I'm ashamed o' the stupid brute, =For never a dog gets fou, O!" ==The waggin', &c. He saw a man wi' a hairy face, =Wi' beard and big moustache, O! Quo' he, "We baith are towsy dogs, =But ye hae claes and cash, O!" ==The waggin', &c. He saw a crowd in a bonny park, =Where dogs were not allowed, O! Quo' he, "The rats in Kirk and State, =If we were there, might rue't, O!" ==The waggin', &c. He saw a man that fleeched a lord, =And flatterin' lees did tell, O! Quo' he, "A dog's owre proud for that, =He'll only claw himsel', O!" ==The waggin', &c. He saw a doctor drivin' about, =And ringing every bell, O! Quo' he, "I've been as sick's a dog, =But I aye could cure mysel', O!" ==The waggin', &c. He heard a lad and leddle braw =Singin' a grand duet, O! Quo' he, "I've heard a cat and dog =Could yowl as weel as that, O!" ==The waggin', &c. He saw a laddie swaggerin' big, =From tap to tae sae trims O! Quo' he, "It's no for a dog to laugh =That ance was a pup like him, O!" ==The waggin', &c. Our doggie he cam' hame at e'en, =And scarted baith his lugs, O! Quo' he, "If folk had only tails, =They'd be maist so gude as dogs, O!" ==The waggin', &c. =======NORMAN MACLEOD, D.D. THE OLD SOLDIER. _Sung to the French air of "Ta Souviens-tu? disait un Capstaine."_ DOST thou remember, soldier, old and hoary, =The days we fought and conquered side by side, On fields of battle famous now in story, =Where Britons triumphed, and where Britons died? Dost thou remember all our old campaigning, =O'er many a field in Portugal and Spain? Of our old comrades few are now remaining- =How many sleep upon the bloody plain! ===Of our old comrades, &c. Dost thou remember all those marches weary, =From gathering foes, to reach Corunna's shore? Who can forget that midnight, sad and dreary, =When in his grave we laid the noble Moore! But ere he died our General heard us cheering, =And saw us charge with vict'ry's flag unfurled; And then he slept, without his ever fearing =For British soldiers conquering o'er the world. ===And then he slept, &c. Rememb'rest thou the bloody Albuera! =The deadly breach in Badajos' walls! Vittoria! Salamanca! Talavera! =Till Roncesvalles echoed to our balls! Ha! how we drove the Frenchmen all before us, =As foam is driven before the stormy breeze! We fought right on, with conquering banners o'er us, =From Torres Vedras to the Pyrenees. ===We fought right on, &c. Dost thou remember to the war returning- =Long will our enemies remember too!- We fought again, our hearts for glory burning, =At Quatre Bras and awful Waterloo! We thought of home upon that Sabbath morning =When Cameron's pibroch roused our Highland corps, Then proudly marched, the mighty Emperor scorning, =And vowed to die or conquer as of yore! ===Then proudly marched, &c. Rememb'rest thou the old familiar faces =Of warriors nursed in many a stormy fight, Whose lonely graves, which now the stranger traces, =Mark every spot they held from morn till night? In vain did Cuirassiers in clouds surround them, =With cannon thundering as the tempest raves; They left our squares, oh! just as they had found them, =Firm as the rocks amidst the ocean's waves! ===They left our squares, &c. Those days are past, my soldier, old and hoary, =But still the scars are on thy manly brow; We both have shared the danger and the glory, =Come, let us share the peace and comfort now; Come to my home, for thou hast not another, =And dry those tears, for thou shalt beg no more; There, take this hand, and let us march together, =Down to the grave, where life's campaign is o'er! ===There, take this hand, &c. =======NORMAN MACLEOD, D.D. THE CAMERON'S FAREWELL. THE bugle is sounding the "Bonnets o' blue," =An' that is the Cameron'e ca', lassie; Ilk hero maun sune to that land bid adieu, =Sae dear to the hearts o' us a', lassie. The field ie before us whaur mony may fa', =Your lover, perchance, 'mang the rest, lassie; But dinna gi'e way, for the Ruler o' a' =Has planted strang hopes in my breist, lassie. Tho' tears o' affection may yet dim my e'e =For some wha in battle may fa', lassie, My thochts mauna reet on the sorrows I'll see, =But cherish fond hopes when awa', lassie. To ken that thou lo'est me will lichten the heart, =An' bear me through ilk trying scsne, lassie; Thy love to my bosom will pleasures impart, =An' happy I'll be as I've been, lassie. Ae kiss, my dear Annie, syne fareweel awhile, =An' trust i' the heart that is thine, lassie; Through ilk changing scene, this I pledge wi' a smile, =I'll lo'e thee while life shall be mine, lassie. On fields that are blood-stain'd thy lover may tread, =Whaur thousands may fa' but to dee, lassie, Still safe through ilk danger 'midst dying an' dead, =I'll come back to Scotland an' thee, lassie. =======James Currie. THE WATER WAGTAIL. BONNIE water wagtail, =Flitting o'er a stone, When will you be at rest, =And let your tail alone? You're just like a coquette, =With a crinoline, You flit there so sprucely, =And wag your tail so fine. Many pretty birds I've seen, =With red tails and blue- Yellow birds and blackbirds, =But not a bird like you. You flit and you chatter, =You chatter and you flit, And wag your tail so wisely =As if you were a wit. Clever water wagtail, =_Do_ you ever rest? Do you sleep upon a twig, =Or croodle in a nest? Or is 't your fate to hop and chat =Beside the flowing river, And wag, wag, wag your tail =For ever and for ever? Dainty water wagtail, =What is your station? Are you lord or commoner =In the feather nation? Or are you king's jester, =So merry and so jolly, Jerking truth and wisdom out =In syllables of folly? Punctual water wagtail, =I know what you do, You're the smart time-keeper =Of the feather'd crew; Your tail is a pendulum, =Your neb is a ticker; You wag and tick the ages out =Quicker still and quicker. =======WILLIAM FREELAND. THE MESSAGE. SING, Birdie, sing, and tell me true, =What notes of cheer you bring to me From that sweet Isle amid the blue, =The dreamlike humming sea? Sing, Birdie-did he sigh or smile, My pilgrim, in his Indian Isle? Sing, Birdie! Did he kiss your wings, =And bid you bear the kiss to me? And did he murmur tender things =Unto the tender sea? O Birdie, did he moan or sing, My beautiful, my brave sea-king? Blithe Birdie, lilt, and lilt again, =I know that still he loveth me: Thy voice is his, so sweet the pain =That thrills me like the sea- And gives me wings to find afar, The rapture of the morning star. Fly, Birdie, fly, and bear to him =This kiss, this swelling heart, from me: And fill thy throat until it brim =Like high tide on the sea; Then sing as if my love were thine- Earth's only soul, and that divine! =======WILLIAM FREELAND. BELL SIN' Bell cam' to bide in oor toon, =The warl' has a' gaen ajee; She has turned a' the heads o' the men, =And the women wi' envy will dee. ==O, but Bell's bonnie! ===Dink as a daisy is she; ==Her e'en are as bricht as the starnies ===That shine i' the lift sae hie. Bell, she gaed ance to the kirk, =Wi' pearlins fu' grand in her hair; The minister glower'd dumfoundert, =And stack i' the midst o' the prayer. ==O, but Bell's bonnie! ===Jimp as a lily is she; ==Her breath's like the scent o' the brier, ===That June win's blaw ower the lea. The miller was smitten wi' Bell- =He left baith his happer and wheel- And noo a' the folk i' the parish =Are deein' for want o' meal. ==O, but Bell's bonnie! ===Blythe as a lintie is she; ==Her hair's like the wing o' the raven ===That croaks on the aul' aik tree. The doctor, clean dazed wi' her beauty, =Gangs dannerin' hame, but his fee; E'en tbe lawyer - ill-deedie auld body- =Has forgotten the way to lee! ==O, but Bell's bonnie! ===Sweet as the summer is she; ==Her smile's like the sheen o' the sunbeams ===That fa' on a dimpled sea. The laird wi' his gear thocht to win her- =Na, na, ye fule body, gae 'wa'; The lass that is bocht wi' vile siller =Is worth jist naething ava! ==O, but Bell's bonnie! ===Earth hauds nane fairer than she; ==A king weel micht pairt wi' his crown ===For ae kind blink o' her e'e! Bell cam' oot i' the gloamin', =An' kisses sae sweet gaed to me; Come quickly, ye snell days o' winter, =When Bell my ain wifie shall be! ==O, but Bell's bonnie! ===An' kind as bonnie is she; ==Come quickly, ye lang nichts o' winter, ===When Bell's to be buckled to me! =======JOHN W. FRASER. AMANG THE STOOKS. SOME folks sing o' the summer wi' its blythesome, kythesome days, An some sing o' the winter when the snaw is on the braes, But for me I sing o' hairst-time, wi' the cawing o' the rooks, As I dauner ower the stubble in amang the gowden stooks. I like to see the sun shine as he gilds the turnip shaws, And I like to see his gowden rays adorn the ruddy haws; But better far to see his face as ower the brae he looks, As I dauner in the e'enin' oot an' in amang the stooks. There is a calm and quietness at the wa'-gaun o' the year We dinna feel in summer whan the corn is in the ear, And the songsters o' the woodland and the babbling o' the brooks Canna draw me frae a dauner not an' in amang the stooks. I like to feel the restfulness that hovers a' aroun', I like to see the russet hues, the yellow and the broun, I like to see the reapers a' gaun hame wi' shinin' hooks, As I loiter in the e'enin' thro' amang the gowden stooks. The spring time gars us warsle on wi' quicker, firmer tread, The time when Nature comes to life mak's ilka ane's heart gled, But hairst-time aye I lo'e the best wi' harvest mune that looks Sae kindly like as oot an' in I dauner 'mang the stooks. Abune a' seasons o' the year the hairst-time's dear to me, When Nature yields her full increase on ilka field an' tree, At gloaming then I love to stray 'mang Nature's shady nooks, Syne hameward wi' a thankfu' heart amang the gowden stooks. It fills the heart wi' peacefulness and quietness a' its ain, It lifts the thoughts in gratitude to Him wha fills the plain, We see His haun in leaf and blade while reading Nature's books, And maist o' a' His bounteous care amang the gowden stooks. =======JOSEPH WRIGHT. SILLER. IN this weary warld, wi' a' its attractions, Sae closely entwined wi' our dearest affections, There's ae thing that gi'es a keen zest to our actions, ==An' that is a likin' for siller. It's common to a', frae the wee raggit laddie, Whase breeks are a' torn, an' whase jacket is duddy, To the hoary auld villain that's cheatit the widdie, ==They a' hae a likin' for siller. "Oh, wae on the siller, it is sae prevailin'," Sae sang Robbie Burns, the power o't bewailin'; An' Robin was richt, for in health or in ailin', ==It's a reel powerfu' article siller. Hoo mony fine schemes i' the bud hae been checkit, Great plans left unfinished that hae been projeckit; I've even kent cases whaur kirks hae been stickit- ==An' a' for the want o' the siller. Ah, siller is noble, en' siller's transcendent, It mak's ye sae clever an' real independent, That amaist a' the evils on mortals attendant ==Will vanish at sicht o' the siller. If you'd wish to rise frae some humble station, An' mix wi' the great anes o' this generation, Your talents will be little recommendation ==Withoot ye hae plenty o' siller. A man without siller is seldom respeckit, He may do his best, but he's sair, sair negleckit; For what i' this world cud ere be expeckit, ==Frae a bodie withoot ony siller? I've beard an auld sang about "Naebody kens ye," That says siller "breaks ye, an' mak's ye, an' men's ye," Sae 'mid a' the blessings kind Providence sen's ye, ==Ye aye should be thankfu' for siller. For though ye be doited, half-daft, or clean crazy, Though yer auld pow be bauld, or as white as a daisy, Ye'll hae plenty o' frien's that'll study to please ye- ==Provided ye've plenty o' siller. But wait ye awee, should misfortunes o'ertake ye, Ten chances to ane but your frien's will forsake ye; An' they'll care nae a snuff though grim poverty shake ye, ==If he's shaken ye clear o' your siller. An' it's no muckle wonder that friendships are broken, The love o' the siller's sae strong, mair by token, The clergy themsel's, "wi' reverence be't spoken," ==Are blamed for bein' fond o' the siller. Then try and get siller, ye're no' richt withoot it, It's handy to hae, that's a fact undisputit; An' it's no guid to get-that's the warst thing aboot it- ==What mair need be said aboot siller? =======WILLIAM WALKER. LAST LONGINGS. "OH! bring me a deep cauld draught," he said, ="O' the water I used to drink, Frae the well at the foot o' Ewieside, =Wi' the butter-cups round its brink; And there grew the sweet-spotted orchis =Amang the rushes green, And the bonnie blue-e'ed speedwell, =And the scented meadow-queen." They held a cup to his pale parched lips, =But he turned his head away, And yearned on still for a "deep cauld draught" =Frae the well in the howe o' the brae. On memory's wings his thochts had flown =Away from the close, dark room, To the sunny hillside where he used to play, ='Mang the feathery fern, and the broom. Upon his ear there fell ance mair =The sang o' the Herriot burn, As it rippled alang 'neath the alder boughs =Wi' mony a curve and turn; And he heard again the bees' blythe hum =Amang the heather bells; And the waefu' wail o' the new-spained lambs =High up on the grassy fells. And ane by ane before his e'e =Rose pictures sweet and fair O' the dear auld hame sae far away, =That he wad ne'er see mair. But fairer than a' were the sichts he saw, =Lang ere the end o' the day, In the blessed land where they thirst nae mair, =And a' tears are wiped away. =======MARY INGLIS.