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How blythely wad I hide the stoure,

I left the lines and tented field, A weary slave frae sun to sun,

Where lang I'd been a lodger, Could I the rich reward secure,

My humble knapsack a' my wealth

, The lovely Mary Morison.

A poor but honest sodger. Yestreen when to the trembling string, A leal, light heart was in my breast, The dance gaed thro' the lighted ha',

My hand unstain'd wi' plunder: To thee my fancy took its wing,

And for fair Scotia, hame again,
I sat, but neither heard nor saw.

I cheery on did wander.
Tho' this was fair, and that was braw, I thought upon the banks o' Coil,
And yon the toast of a' the town,

I thought upon my Nancy ;
I sigh’d, and said amang them a'

I thought upon the witching smile Ye are na Mary Morison.”

That caught my youthful fancy. Oh Mary, canst thou wreck his peace, At length I reach'd the bonnie glen Wha for thy sake wad gladly die ?

Where early life I sported; Or canst thou break that heart of his, I pass'd the mill, and trysting thorn, Whase only faut is loving thee?

Where Nancy aft I courted : If love for love thou wilt na gie,

Wha spied I but my ain dear maid At least be pity to me shown;

Down by her mother's dwelling! A thought ungentle canna be

And turn'd me round to hide the flood The thought o'Mary Morison.

That in my een was swelling.
Wi' alter'd voice, quoth I, “Sweet lass,

Sweet as yon hawthorn's blossom,

Oh! happy, happy may he be,
Wandrring Willie.

That's dearest to thy bosom!

My purse is light, I've far to gang, HERE awa, there awa, wandering Willie, And fain would be thy lodger ; Here awa, there awa, haud awa hame; I've served my king and country langCome to my bosom, my ain only dearie, Take pity on a sodger!” Tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same.

Sae wistfully she gaz'd on me, Winter-winds blew loud and cauld at our And lovelier was than ever ; parting,

Quo' she," A sodger ance I loe'. Fears for my Willie brought tears in my ee; Forget him shall I never : Welcome now simmer and welcome my Our humble cot and hamely fare Willie,

Ye freely shall partake o't; The simmer to nature, my Willie to me. That gallant badge, the dear cockade,

Ye're welcome for the sake o't. Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave of your slumbers,

She gaz'd--she redden'd like a rose How your dread howling a lover alarms! Syne pale like ony lily; Wauken, ye breezes! row gently, ye billows ! She sank within my arms, and cried, And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my “Art thou my ain dear Willie ?" arms!

By Him who made yon sun and sky, But oh, if he's faithless, and minds na his I am the man; and thus may still

By whom true love's regarded,

True lovers be rewarded.
Flow still between us thou wide-roaring main!
May I never see it, may I never trow it, The wars are o'er, and I'm come hame,
But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain! And find thee still true-hearted !

Tho'poor in gear, we're rich in love,

And mair we're ne'er be parted."
Quo' she, “My grandsire left me gowd,

A mailen plenish'd fairly;
The Soldier's Refirn. (360)

And come, my faithfu' sodger lad,
AIR-The mill, mill O.

Thou’rt welcome to it dearly."
WHEN wild war's deadly blast was blawn, For gold the merchant ploughs the main,
And gentle peace returning,

The farmer ploughs the manor; Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless,

But glory is the sodger's prize, And mouy a widow mourning :

The sodger's wealth is honour.

The brave poor sodger ne'er despise,

Nor count him as a stranger : Remember he's his country's stay

In day and hour of danger.

How can your flinty hearts enjoy
The widow's tear, the orphan's cry

? But soon may peace bring happy days, And Willie hame to Logan braes !

Blythe har I brrn an nan Bill.

TUNE-Liggeram Cosh. BLYTHE hae I been on yon hill,

As the lambs before me; Careless ilka thought and free,

As the breeze flew o'er me: Now nae luger sport and play,

Mirth or sang can please me; Lesley is sae fair and coy,

Care and anguish seize me. Heavy, heavy is the task,

Hopeless love declaring: Trembling, I dow nocht but glow'r,

Sighing, dumb, despairing! If she winna ease the thraws

In my bosom swelling, Underneath the grass-green sod,

Soon maun be my dwelling.

Oh, gin my Love were qan Red Rose! (362)

AIR--Hughie Graham. On, gin my love were yon red rose

That grows upon the castle wa'; And I mysel a drap o' dew,

Into her bonnie breast to fa'! On there, beyond expression blest,

I'd feast on beauty a' the night! Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,

Till fley'd awa by Phoebus' light. Oh, were my love yon lilach fair,

Wi' purple blossoms to the spring, And I, a bird to shelter there;

When wearied on my little wingHow I wad mourn, when it was torn

By autumn wild, and winter rude! But I wad sing on wanton wing,

When youthfu' May its bloom renewid.

Bonnie Jean. (363) THERE was a lass, and she was fair,

At kirk and market to be seen; When a' the fairest maids were met,

The fairest maid was bonnie Jean.

Logan Brars. (361)

TUNE-Logan Water. Oh Logan, sweetly didst thou glide That day I was my Willie's bride; And years sinsyne hae o'er us run, Like Logan to the simmer sun. But now thy flow'ry banks appear Like drumlie winter, dark and drear, While my dear lad maun face his faes, Far, far frae me and Logan braes. Again the merry month o' May Has made our hills and vallies gay; The birds rejoice in leafy bowers, The bees hum round the breathing flowers : Blythe morning lifts his rosy eye, And evening's tears are tears of joy: My soul, delightless, a'surveys, While Willie's far frae Logan braes. Within yon milk-white hawthorn bush, Amang her nestlings sits the thrush; Her faithfu' mate will share her toil, Or wi' his songs her cares beguile: But I wi' my sweet nurslings here, Nae mate to help, nae mate to cheer, Pass widow'd nights and joyless days, While Willie's far frae Logan braes. Oh, wae upon you, men o'state, That brethren rouse to deadly hate! As ye make many a fond heart mourn, Sae may it on your heads return !

And aye she wrought her mammie's wark, And aye ghe

sang sae merrilie: The blythest bird upon the bush

Had ne'er a lighter heart than she, But hawks will rob the tender joys

That bless the little lintwhite's nest; And frost will blight the fairest flowers;

And love will break the soundest rest.

Young Robie was the brawest lad,

The flower and pride of a' the glen; And he had owsen, sheep, and kye,

And wanton naigies nine or ten. He gaed wi' Jeanie to the tryste,

He danc'd wi Jeanie on the down; And lang ere witless Jeanie wist,

Her heart was tint, her peace was stown, As in the bosom of the stream

The moonbeam dwells at dewy e'en ; So trembling, pure, was tender love

Within the breast o' bonnie Jean.





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And now she works her mammie's wark, Cauld is the blast upon my pale cheek,
aye she sighs wi' care and pain;

But caulder thy love for me, oh;
Yet wist na what her ail might be,

The frost that freezes the life at my heart, Or what wad mak her weel again,

Is nought to my pains frae thee, oh! But did na Jeanie's heart loup light,

The wan moon is setting behind the white And did na joy blink in her ee,

wave, As Robie tauld a tale o' love

And time is setting with me, oh! Ae e'enin on the lily lea?

False friends, false love; farewell! for mair The sun was sinking in the west,

I'll ne'er trouble them, nor thee, oh !” The birds sang sweet in ilka grove;

She has open'd the door, she has open'd it His cheek to hers he fondly prest, And whisper'd thus his tale o' love:

She sees his pale corse on the plain, oh! “Oh Jeanie fair, I loe thee dear ;

"My true love !" she cried, and sank down Oh, canst thou think to fancy me;

by his side, Or wilt thou leave thy mammie's cot,

Never to rise again, oh!
And learn to tent the farms wi' me ?
At barn or byre thou shalt na drudge,
Or naething else to trouble thee;

Young Sessie.
But stray amang the heather-bells,
And tent the waving corn wi' me."

TUNE-Bonnie Dundes.
Now what could artless Jeanie do?

TRUE hearted was he, the sad swain o' the She had nae will to say him na;

[the Ayr, At length she blush'd a sweet consent,

And fair are the maids on the banks of And love was aye between them twa. But by the sweet side o' the Nith's winding


Are lovers as faithful, and maidens as fair Mrg rt the Mill.

To equal young Jessie seek Scotland all over;

To equal young Jessie you seek it in vain : AIR-Oh Bonnie Lass will you lieina Barrack? Grace, beauty, and elegance fetter her lover, Oh ken

And maidenly modesty fixes the chain. wha Meg o'the Mill has gotten ?

ye And ken ye what Meg' o' the Mill has Oh, fresh is the rose in the gay dewy gotten ?

morning, She has gotten a coof wi' a claut o'siller, And sweet is the lily at evening close'; And broken the heart o'the barley Miller. But in the fair presence of lovely young The Miller was strappin', the Miller was

Jessie ruddy;

Unseen is the lily, unheeded the rose. A heart like a lord, and a hue like a lady:

Lore sits in her smile, a wizard ensnaring: The Laird was a widdiefu', bleerit knurl;- Enthron'd in her een he delivers his law; She's left the guidfellow and taen the churl. And still to her charms she alone is a

strangerThe Miller he hecht her a heart leal and

Her modest demeanour's the jewel of a'! loving;

[moving, The Laird did address her wi' matter more A fine pacing horse wi' a clear chained bridle, A whip by her side, and a bonnie side-saddle. down minding Flitly I did Wander. Oh wae on the siller, it is sae prevailing!

TUNE--The Mucking o' Geordie's Byre. And wae on the love that is fixed on a mailen! A tocher's nae word in a true lover's parle, ADOWN winding Nith I did wander, But gie me my love, and a tig for the warl! To mark the sweet flowers as they spring

Adown winding Nith I did wander,

Of Phillis to muse and to sing.
Oprn the Door to Me, oh!

CHORUS "Oh! open the door, some pity to show, Awa wi' your belles and your beauties,

Oh! open the door to me, oh! (true, They never wi' her can compare; Tho' thou hast been false, I'll ever prove

Whaever has met wi' my Phillis, Oh! open the door to me, oh!

Has met wi' the queen o' the fair..

The daisy amus'd my fond fancy,

So artless, so simple, so wild;
Thou emblem, said I, o' my Phillis,

For she is simplicity's child.
The rose-bud's the blush o' my charmer,

Her sweet balmy lip when ’tis prest:
How fair and how pure is the lily,

But fairer and purer her breast.
Yon knot of gay flowers in the arbour,

They ne'er wi' my Phillis can vie :
Her breath is the breath o' the woodbine,

It's dew-drop o' diamond her eye.
Her voice is the song of the morning,

That wakes thro'the green-spreading grove, When Phoebus peeps over the mountains,

On music, and pleasure, and love.
But, beauty, how frail and how fleeting-

The bloom of a fine summer's day!
While worth in the mind o' my Phillis

Will flourish without a decay.

In each bird's careless song,

Glad did I share; While yon wild flowers among,

Chance led me there; Sweet to the opening day, Rosebuds bent the dewy spray; Such thy bloom ! did I say,

Phillis the fair.
Down in a shady walk,

Doves cooing were;
I mark'd the cruel hawk

Caught in a snare;
So kind may fortune be,
Such make his destiny,
He who would injure thee,

Phillis the fair.

By Allan stream 3 chanr'd to Rune.

TUNE-Allan Water.

Dal I a Caur. (364)

TUNE-Robin Adair.

HAD I a cave on some wild distant shore,
Where the winds howl to the waves' dashing

There would I weep my woes,
There seek


lost repose,
Till grief my eyes should close,

Ne'er to wake more !

By Allan stream I chanc'd to rove,

While Phæbus sank beyond Benleddi; (366) The winds were whispering thro' the grove,

The yellow corn was waving ready: I listen'd to a lover's sang,

And thought on youthfu' pleasures mony; And aye

the wild-wood echoes rangOh, dearly do I love thee, Annie! Oh, happy be the woodbine bower,

Nae nightly bogle make it eerie; Nor ever sorrow stain the hour,

The place and time I met my dearie! Her head upon my throbbing breast,

She, sinking, said, “I'm thine for ever!" While mony a kiss the seal imprest,

The sacred vow, we ne'er should sever. The haunt o' spring's the primrose brae,

The simmer joys the flocks to follow; How cheery thro' her shortening day,

Is autumn in her weeds o' yellow ! But can they melt the glowing heart,

Or chain the soul in speechless pleasure ? Or thro' each nerve the rapture dart,

Like meeting her, our bosom's treasure?

Falsest of womankind, canst thou declare,
All thy fond-plighted vows-fleeting as air !

To thy new lover hie,
Laugh o'er tly perjury;
Then in thy bosom try

What peace is there!

Phillis the Fair. (365)

TUNE- Robin Adair.

Come let me take Thre fa my Breast.

AIR-Cauld Kail.

WHILE larks with the wing,

Fann'd the pure air, Tasting the breathing spring,

Forth I did fare; Gay the sun's golden eye, Peep'd o'er the mountains high; Such thy morn! did I cry,

Phillis the fair.

COME, let me take thee to my breast,

And pledge we ne'er shall sunder; And I shall spurn as vilest dust

The warld's wealth and grandeur : And do I hear my Jeanie own

That equal transports move her ? I ask for dearest life alone

That I may live to love her.

Thus in my arms, wi' all thy charms,

I clasp my countless treasure ; I'll seek nae mair o' heaven to share,

Than sic a moment's pleasure: And by thy een sae bonnie blue,

I swear I'm thine for ever! And on thy lips I seal my vow,

And break it shall I never!

When day, expiring in the west, The curtain draws o nature's rest, I flee to his arnis I loe best,

And that's my ain dear Davie.

Brace's Address. (368)

TUNE-Hey Tuttie Taittie. SCOTS, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led; Welcome to your gory bed,

Or to victorie!

Whistle and I'll Come to you, my Tah.
TUNE-Whistle and I'll come to you, my lad.
Oh whistle and I'll come to you, my lad,
Oh whistle and I'll come to you, my lad;
Tho' father and mither and a should
Oh whistle and I'll come to you, my

But warily tent, when ye come to court me,
And come na unless the back-yett be a-jee;
Syne up the back-stile, and let naebody see,
And come as ye were na comin' to me.

And come, &c.

gae mad,

Now's the day, and now's the hour;
See the front o' battle lour;
See approach proud Edward's power-

Chains and slavery!

Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave ? Wha sae base as be a slave?

Let him turn and flee!


Wha for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or Freeman fa',

Let him follow me!

At kirk, or at market, whene'er ye meet me, Gang by me as tho' that ye car'd nae a flie; But steal me a blink o'your bonnie black ee, Yet look as ye were na lookin' at me.

Yet look, &c. Aye vow and protest that ye care na for me, And whiles ye may lightly my beauty a wee; But court nae anither, tho' jokin' ye be, For fear that she wile your fancy frae me.

For fear, &c.

By oppression's woes and pains ! By your sons in servile chains ! We will drain our dearest veins,

But they shall be free! Lay the proud usurpers low! Tyrants fall in every foe! Liberty's in every blow!

Let us do, or die !

Drljald the Tanr. (309)

TUNE-Oran Gaoil.


Dainty Davie. (367)

TUNE-Dainty Davie.
Now rosy May comes in wi' flowers,
To deck her gay, green spreading bowers;
And now come in my happy hours,
To wander wi' my Davie.

Meet me on the warlock knowe,

Dainty Davie, dainty Davie ,
There I'll spend the day wi' you,

My ain dear dainty Davie.
The crystal waters round us fa',
The merry birds are lovers a',
The scented breezes round us blaw.

A-wandering wi' my Davie.
When purple morning starts the hare,
To steal upon her early fare,
Then thro' the dews I will repair,

To meet my faithfu' Davie.

BEHOLD the hour, the boat arrive;

Thou goest, thou darling of my heart! Sever'd from thee, can I survive ?

But fate has will'd, and we must part. I'll often greet this surging swell,

Yon distant isle will often hail : *E'en here I took the last farewell;

There latest mark'd her vanish'd sail."

Along the solitary shore,

While flitting sea-fowl round me cry, Across the rolling, dashing roar,

I'll westward turn my wistful eye; Happy thou Indian grove, I'll say,

Where now my Nancy's path may be! While thro' thy sweets she loves to stray,

Oh, tell me, does she muse on me!

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