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But oft, as twilight stole o'er the steep,

And the woods of his native vale, Would the minstrel wake his harp to weep,

And sigh to the mountain gale.



AIR. -"Ye banks and braes," &c.

O fare thee weel, fair Cartha's side,

For ever, ever fare thee weel ! Upon thy banks I've oft enjoy'd

What virtuous love alone can feel. With Anna as I fondly stray'd,

And mark'd the gowan's hamely mien, The vi'let blue, the primrose gay,

Enrich'd the joyful fairy scene.

The sun had set, the western clouds

Began to lose their radiance bright, The mavis' tuneful note was hush’d,

And all proclaim'd approaching night ;

Then was the time I fondly pour’d

In Anna's ear my ardent tale,
She blush'd, and oft I fondly thought

That love like mine would soon prevail.

She spoke, she look'd as if she lov'd,

Yet, ah ! how false was Anna's heart! Tho' heavenly fair her angel form

How fraught with guile, how full of art! Now far from Anna, far from home,

By Lugar's stream I sadly mourn ; I think on scenes I still must love,

On scenes that never can return.

O fare ye weel, fair Cartha's banks,

And Anna-0!-a long fareweel! Nor ever may that pang be thine, Which my

sad heart so soft doth feel; But happy, happy may'st thou be,

By fairy scenes on Cartha's side, And may a better far than me,

Thro’ life be thy true love and guide.



Let high Benledi rear its tap,
Crown'd wi' a diadem o' snaw;
Or, at its feet, let hazels drap
Their diamonds in the leafy shaw ;
Let storms owre wild Benlomond blaw,
And chill the lambs on glen and brae,
The storm blaws sweetly, far awa',
Amang the braes of Oransay.

When tempests lash the foaming waves,
And a’ around is wild and drear,
And the wee petterel trembling braves
The howling blast, while death is near ;
A stranger will I be to fear,
Tho' Corryvekans* round me play,
I'll drap the last, the loneliest tear
For the sweet Maid of Oransay.

O Oransay's a lovely isle,
It is a paradise to me,
For there the wildest beauties smile,
To warm the soul or glad the e'e ;

* A famous whirlpool not far from Oransay.

Pure is the rapture yet to be,
When Peggy gilds my darkening day,
And mony a bonny sun I'll see,
Glint owre the bents of Oransay.

The dark Atlantic wave may roar
Around my Isle in noisy pride-
The mountain surge may sweep the shore,
And send its thunders far and wide-
But when I'm nestled by the side
Of her whom a' my thoughts obey,
I'll smile at storms, and clasp my bride,
The lovely Maid of Oransay.



O Tibby, I hae seen the day,
Ye would na been sae shy;
For laik o'gear ye lightly me,
But, trowth, I care na by.

Yestreen I met ye on the moor,
Ye spak na, but gaed by like stoure ;
Ye geck at me because I'm poor,
But fient a hair care I!

O Tibby, I hae, &c.

I doubt na, lass, but ye may think, Because ye hae the name o'clink, That ye can please me at a wink, Whene'er


like to try. O Tibby, I hae, &c.

But sorrow tak him that's sae mean,
Altho' his pouch o'coin were clean,
Wha follows ony saucy quean
That looks sae proud and high.

O Tibby, I hae, &c.

Altho' a lad were e'er sae smart,
If that he want the yellow dirt,
Ye'll cast your head anither airt,
And answer him fu' dry.

0 Tibby, I hae, &c.

But if he hae the name o' gear,
Ye'll fasten to him like a brier,
Tho' hardly he for sense or lear
Be better than the kye.

O Tibby, I hae, dc.

But, Tibby, lass, tak my advice:
Your daddy's gear maks you sae nice,
The de'il a ane wad speir your price,
Were ye as poor as I.

0 Tibby, I hae, &c.

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