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LADIE MARY ANN.

U LADY MARY ANN looks o'er the castle wa',
She saw three honnie boys playing at the ba',
The youngest he was the flower amang them a';
My bonnie laddie's young, but he's growin'
yet.

“O father, O father, an' ye think it fit,
We'll send him a year to the college yet;
We'll sew a green ribbon round about his hat,
And that will let them ken he's to marry yet."

Lady Mary Ann was a flower in the dew,
Sweet was its smell, and bonnie was its hue,
And the langer it blossomed, the sweeter it grew;
For the lily in the bud will be bonnier yet.

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Sir Evan Du, and his men true,

Came linking up the brink, man;
The Hogan Dutch they feared such,
They bred a horrid stink, then.
The true Maclean, and his fierce men,
Came in amang them a', man;
Nane durst withstand his heavy hand,
All fled and ran awa' then.

Oh' on a ri, oh' on a ri,

Why should she lose king Shames, man?
Oh' rig in di, oh' rig in di,

grow-With furichinish, an' stay a while,
And speak a word or twa, man,
She's gi' a straike, out o'er the neck,
Before ye win awa' then.

She shall break a' her banes then ;

THE battle of Killycranky was the last stand made by the Clans for James, after his abdication. Here Dundee fell in the moment of victory, and with him fell the hopes of the party. -General Mackay, when he found the Highlanders did not pursue his flying army, said, "Dundee must be killed, or he never would have overlooked this advantage.”—A great stone marks the spot where Dundee fell.-BURNS.

CLAVERS and his highland-men,
Came down upo' the raw, man,
Who being stout, gave mony a clout,
The lads began to claw, then.
With sword and terge into their hand,
Wi' which they were nae slaw, man,
Wi' mony a fearful heavy sigh,

The lads began to claw, then.

O'er bush, o'er bank, o'er ditch, o'er stank,
She flang amang them a', man;
The butter-box got mony knocks,
Their riggings paid for a' then;
They got their paiks, wi' sudden straiks,
Which to their grief they saw, man;
Wi' clinkum clankum o'er their crowns,
The lads began to fa' then.

Hur skipt about, hur leapt about,

And flang amang them a', man;

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THEEZ were two old songs to this tune; one of them contained some striking lines, the other entered into the sweets of wooing rather too freely for modern poetry.-It began,

"Ae simmer night on Logan braes,

I helped a bonnie lassie on wi' her claes, First wi' her stockins, an' syne wi' her shoon, But she gied me the glaiks when a' was done."

ANOTHER SET.

LOGAN WATER,

BY JOHN MAYNE.

By Logan's streams that rin sae deep,
Fu' aft', wi' glee, I've herded sheep,
I've herded sheep, or gather'd slaes,
Wi' my dear lad, on Logan Braes:
But, wae's my heart, thae days are gane,
And, fu' o' grief, I herd my lane;
While my dear lad maun face his faes,
Far, far frae me and Logan Braes!

Nae mair at Logan Kirk will he,
Atween the preachings, meet wi' me-
Meet wi' me, or, when it's mirk,
Convoy me hame frae Logan Kirk!
I weil may sing, thae days are gane-
Frae Kirk and Fair I come my lane,
While my dear lad maun face his faes,
Far, far frae me and Logan Braes!

O'ER THE MOOR AMANG THE HEATHER.

THIS song is the composition of a Jean Glover, a girl who was not only a w-e, but also a thief; and in one or other character has visited most of the Correction Houses in the West.-She was born, I believe, in Kilmarnock :-I took the song down from her singing as she was strolling through the country, with a slight-ofhand blackguard.-BURNS,

COMIN' thro' the Craigs o' Kyle,
Amang the bonnie blooming heather,
There I met a bonnie lassie,
Keeping a' her yowes thegither.

O'er the moor amang the heather,
O'er the moor amang the heather,
There I met a bonnie lassie,
Keeping a' her yowes thegither.

Says I, my dearie, where is thy hame,
In moor or dale, pray tell me whether?
She says, I tent the fleecy flocks
That feed amang the blooming heather,
O'er the moor, &c.

We laid us down upon a bank, The other seems older, but it is not so charac-She left her flocks at large to rove Sae warm and sunny was the weather, teristic of Scottish courtship.

"Logan Water's wide and deep,

An' laith am I to weet my feet;
But gif ye'll consent to gang wi' me,
I'll hire a horse to carry thee."
BURNS.

Amang the bonnie blooming heather. O'er the moor, &c.

While thus we lay she sang a sang,
Till echo rang a mile and farther,
And ay the burden o' the sang
Was-o'er the moor amang the heather.
O'er the mor. S

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