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Corn rigs, an' barley rigs,
An' corn rigs are bonnie: I'll ne'er forget that happy night,
Amang the rigs wi' Annie.
COMPOSED IN THE MONTH OF AUGUST.
NOW WESTLIN WINDS, &c.
AIR.-" I HAD A HORSE, &c.”
Bring autumn's pleasant weather ;
Amang the blooming heather :
farmer ; And the moon shines bright, when I rove at night,
To muse upon my charmer.
The plover loves the mountains ;
The woodcock haunts the lonely dells ;
The soaring hern the fountains :
The path of man to shun it;
The spreading thorn the linnet.
The savage and the tender ;
Some solitary wander : Avaunt, away ! the cruel sway,
Tyrannic man's dominion; The sportsman's joy, the murd’ring cry,
The flutt'ring, gory pinion!
Thick flies the skimming swallow ;
All fading-green and yellow : Come let us stray our gladsome way,
And view the charms of nature; The rustling corn, the fruited thorn,
And ev'ry happy creature.
Till the silent moon shine clearly
Swear how I love thee dearly; Not vernal show'rs to budding flow'rs,
Not autumn to the farmer, So dear can be as thou to me,
My fair, my lovely charmer.
BEHIND YON HILLS, &c.
AIR.— MY NANIE, 0.”
hills where Stinchar flows, 'Mang moors an' mosses many, 0, The wintry sun the day has clos’d,
And I'll awa to Nanie, O.
II. The westlin wind blaws loud and shill
; The night's baith mirk and rainy, 0; But I'll get my plaid an' out I'll steal,
An' owre the hills to Nanie, O.