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It's fare ye weel, my servants all,

And you, my bonnie children three,
God grant your father grace to be kind
Till I see you safe in my ain countrie.
But wae be to you, fause Blackwood,
Aye, and ill death may you die;
Ye are the first, and I hope the last,

That put strife between my good lord and

me.

When I came in through Edinburgh town,
My loving father came to meet me,
With trumpets sounding on every side;
But it was no comfort at all to me,
For no mirth nor music sounds in my ear,
Since the Earl of Mar has forsaken me.

"Hold your tongue, my daughter dear,
And of your weeping, pray let be;
For I'll send to him a bill of divorce,
And I'll get as good a lord to thee."
"Hold your tongue, my father dear,
And of your scoffing, pray let be;
I would rather hae a kiss o' my ain lord's
mouth

Than all the lords in the north countrie."

When she came to her father's land,
The tenants a' cam out to see;
Never a word she could speak to them,
But the buttons aff her clothes did flee.

"The linnet is a bonnie bird,

And aften flees far frae its nest; So all the world may plainly see They're far awa that I love best!"

N

She looked out at her father's window,
To take a view of the countrie;
Wha did she see but Jamie Douglas,
And along with him her children
three.

There came a soldier to the gate,
And he did knock right hastilie:
"If Lady Douglas be within,

Bid her come down and speak to me.

"O come away, my lady fair,

Come away, now, alang with me;
For I have hanged fause Blackwood
At the very place where he told the
lie."

WALY, WALY, UP THE BANK.

This ballad is founded upon, and mainly extracted from the preceding. It bears upon it the marks of a masterhand in popular poetry, and first appeared in Allan Ramsay's "Tea-Table Miscellany" with the signature of "Z,” shewing that it was of an antiquity unknown to the Editor.

O, WALY, waly up the bank,

And waly, waly down the brae,
And waly, waly yon burnside,
Where I and my love wont to gae.
I leaned my back unto an aik,
An' thocht it was a trusty tree,
But first it bowed, and syne it brak,
Sae my true love did lichtly me.

O waly, waly, but love is bonnie
A little time while it is new,
But when it's auld it waxes cauld,
And fades away like morning dew.
O wherefore should I busk my head,
Or wherefore should I kame my hair,
For my true love has me forsook,

And

says he 'll never love me mair.

Now Arthur's Seat shall be my bed,
The sheets shall ne'er be pressed by

me,

St Anton's well shall be my drink,

Since my true love has forsaken me.
Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw,
And shake the green leaves off the tree!
O gentle Death, when wilt thou come,
For of my life I am wearie!

'Tis not the frost that freezes fell,

Nor blawing snaw's inclemencie,
'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry,
But my love's heart's grown cauld to

me.

When we came in by Glasgow toun

We were a comely sicht to see;
My love was clad in the black velvet,
And I mysel in cramasie.

* Arthur's Seat, the picturesque and romantic hill that overlooks Edinburgh, and forms part of the chase or park which surrounds the ancient palace of Holyrood. St Anthony's well is a small spring on the side of the hill, which takes its name from a hermitage that it formerly supplied with water.

"Pressed:" filed or defiled in the original.

But had I wist before I kist

That love had been sae ill to win,
I'd locked my heart in a case of gold,
And pinned it wi' a siller pin.
Oh, oh! if my young babe were born,
And set upon the nurse's knee,
And I myself were dead and gane,
And the green grass growing over me!*

LADY MARY ANN.

"I have extracted these beautiful stanzas from Johnson's 'Poetical Museum.' They are worthy of being better known-a circumstance which may lead to a discovery of the persons whom they celebrate."-Scottish Historical and Romantic Ballads, vol. i. Edin. 1808. The stanza are certainly beautiful, and it is probable they may refer to some of the Dundonald family. The thrifty habits of one lady of that noble house, at least, have already been commemorated in some wretched stuff, still preserved by tradition in Paisley :

"My lady Dundonald sits singing and spinning,
Drawing a thread frae her tow rock;

And it weel sets me for to wear a gude cloak,
And I span ilka thread o't mysel, so I did."
-MOTHERWELL.

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

* "For a maid again I'll never be: "

is the reading in Allan Ramsay's version; but one less pathetic, less beautiful, and less delicate than the line as amended from the recitation of an "old nurse," and which is now most commonly, and very properly, adopted.

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.

Young Charlie Cochran was the sprout of an aik, Bonnie and blooming and straight was its make, The sun took delight to shine for its sake;

And it will be the brag o' the forest yet.

The summer is gane when the leaves they were green,

And the days are awa' that we hae seen,

But far better days I trust will come again; For my bonnie laddie's young, but he 's growin' yet.

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