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MEG O' THE GLEN. Meg o' the glen set aff to the fair, Wir ruffles and ribbons, and meikle prepare, Her heart it was heavy, her head it was licht, For a' the lang way for a wooer she sicht; She spak’ to the lads, but the lads slippet by, She spak' to the lassies, the lassies were shy, She thought she might do, but she didna weel ken, For nane seemed to care for poor Meg o' the glen.

NOW MARION DRY YOUR TEARFU' E'E.
Now Marion dry your tearfu' e'e,

Gae break your rock in twa.
For soon your gallant sons ye'll see,

Returned in safety a'.
O wow, gudeman, my heart is fain!
And shall I see my bairns again ?
A' seated round our ain hearthstane,

Nae mair to gang awa ?

DAVIE TULLOCH'S BONNIE KATY.
Davie Tulloch's bonnie Katy,

Davie's bonnie blythsome Katy,
Tam the laird cam' down yestreen,

He socht her love, but gat her pity.
Wi' trembling grip he squeez'd her hand,

While his auld heart gae'd pitty-patty,
Aye he thought his gear and land

Wad win the love o' bonnie Katy ;
Davie Tulloch's bonnie Katy,

Davie's bonnie blythsome Katy,
Aye she smild as Davie wild,

Her smile was scorn, yet mixt wi' pity.

KISSED YESTREEN.
The lassies a' leugh, and the carlin flate,
But Maggie was sitten fu' owrie and blate,
The auld

silly gawky, she couldna contain How brawly she was kiss'd yestreen,

Kiss'd yestreen, kiss'd yestreen,
How brawly she was kiss'd yestreen,
She blether'd it round to her fae and her friend,
How brawly she was kiss'd yestreen.

HEY DONALD, HOW DONALD.
Tho'simmer smiles on bank and brae,
And nature bids the heart be gay,
Yet a' the joys o' flow'ry May,

Wi' pleasure ne'er can move me.
Hey Donald, how Donald !
Think upon your vow, Donald-
Mind the heather knowe, Donald,

Whare ye vow'd to love me.

KITTY O'CARROL.
Ye may boast of your charms, and be proud to be sure,
As if there was never such beauty before,
But, ere I got wedded to old Thady More,
I had dozens of wooers each night at my door,
With their, Och dear ! O will you marry me,
Kitty O'Carrol, the joy of my soul !

MY DAYS HAE FLOWN WI' GLEESOME SPEED.

My days hae flown wi' gleesome speed,

Grief ne'er sat heavy on my mind,
Sae happy in my rural reed,

I lilted every care behind ;
I've whiles been vext, and sair perplext,

When friends prov'd false, or beauty shy,
But, like gude John O'Badenyon,

I crun'd my lilt, and car'd na by.

THE BANKS OF SPEY. Scenes of my childhood, your wanderer hails you, Wing'd with rude storms, tho' the winter assails you, Bleak and dreary as ye are, ye yet hae charms to cheer me, For here amidst my native hills, my bonnie lassie's near me; 'Tis sad to see the withered lea, the drumly flooded fountain, The angry storm in awful form, that sweeps the moor and mountain; But frae the surly swelling blast, dear lassie, I'll defend her, And frae the bonnie banks of Spey I never more shall wander.

THE

Tarp of Benfrewshire,

I.

GLEN-ORRA.

THE gale is high, the bark is light,

Swiftly it glides the dark sea over,
Why bear, ye waves, so base a freight,

Why waft, ye winds, a vagrant lover.
Wake, artless maid, thy dream is o'er,

No bright'ning hope can gild the morrow,
Thy lover hails a distant shore,

Nor thinks of thee far in Glen-Orra.

The moon is up, the maiden's gone,

Where flower and tree the night dews cover, To weep by mountain streamlet lone,

O’er perjur'd vows of faithless lover.

K

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