But now thy flowery 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 valleys gay; The birds rejoice in leafy bowers, The bees hum round the breathing flowers: Blithe morning lifts his rosy eye, And evening's tears are tears of joy: Within yon milk-white hawthorn bush, O wae upon you, men o' state, BONNIE JEAN. 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. And aye she wrought her mammie's wark, The blithest bird upon the bush 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 Robic was the brawest lad, The flower and pride o' a' the glen; And he had owsen, sheep, and kye, And wanton naigies nine or ten. He gaed wi' Jeanie to the tryste, He danced wi' Jeanie on the down; And lang ere witless Jeanie wist, Her heart was tint, her peace was stown As in the bosom o' the stream., The moonbeam dwells at dewy e'en; And now she works her mammie's wark, But did na Jeanie's heart loup light, The sun was sinking in the west, And whisper'd thus his tale o' love: O Jeanie fair, I lo'e thee dear; AULD LANG SYNE. SHOULD auld acquaintance be forgot, CHORUS. For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne. We twa hae ran about the braes, For auld, &c. We twa hae paidl't i' the burn, But seas between us braid hae roar'd, For auld, &c. And here's a hand, my trusty fier, And gie's a hand o' thine; And we'll tak a right guid willie waught, For auld lang syne. For auld, &c. And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp, And surely I'll be mine; And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, BANNOCKBURN. ROBERT BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY. Now's the day and now's the hour; Traitor! coward! turn and flee! Wha for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or freeman fa', Caledonian on wi' me! By oppression's woes and pains! Lay the proud usurpers low! FOR A' THAT, AND A' THAT. Is there, for honest poverty, That hangs his head, and a' that; The coward slave, we pass him by, We dare be poor for a' that! For a' that, and a' that, Our toil's obscure and a' that, The rank is but the guinea stamp, The man's the gowd for a' that. What though on hamely fare we dine, Wear hoddin gray, and a' that; Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, A man's a man for a' that; For a' that, and a' that, Their tinsel show, and a' that; The honest man, though e'er sae poor, Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord, Wha struts, and stares, and a' that; His riband, star, and a' that, Their dignities, and a' that, Then let us pray that come it may, That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, For a' that, and a' that, It's coming yet, for a' that, That man to man, the warld o'er, Shall brothers be for a' that. SCOTTISH BALLAD. TUNE-"The Lothian Lassie." LAST May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen, I said there was nothing I hated like men; He spak o' the darts in my bonnie black e'en, I said he might die when he liked, for Jean; A weel-stocked mailen, himsel for the laird, I never loot on that I kenn'd it, or cared, But what wad ye think? in a fortnight or less, Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her. I spier'd for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet, And how her new shoon fit her auld shachl't feet, He begg'd, for Gudesake! I wad be his wife, I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow, SONG. TUNE-"Here's a health to them that's awa, hiney." CHORUS. Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear, ALTHOUGH thou maun never be mine, 'Tis sweeter for thee despairing, I mourn through the gay, gaudy day, I guess by the dear angel smile, I guess by the love-rolling e'e; But why urge the tender confession 'Gainst fortune's fell, cruel decree-Jessy! Here's a health, &c. THE BIRKS OF ABERFELDY. Bonnic lassie, will ye go, will ye go, will ye go, Now simmer blinks on flowery braes, Bonnie lassie, &c. While o'er their heads the hazels hing, The braes ascend like lofty wa's, Bonnie lassie, &c. The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi' flowers, Bonnie fassie, &c. Let fortune's gifts at random flee, 1 LOVE MY JEAN. TUNE-" Miss Admiral Gordon's Strathspey." Or a' the airts the wind can blaw, I dearly like the west, For there the bonnie lassie lives, The lassie I lo'e best: There wild woods grow, and rivers row, And mony a hill between ; But day and night my fancy's flight Is ever wi' my Jean. I see her in the dewy flowers, I see her sweet and fair: I hear her in the tunefu' birds, I hear her charm the air: There's not a bonnie flower that springs, But now your brow is beld, John, Your locks are like the snaw; But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson my jo. John Anderson my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither; And mony a canty day, John, We've had wi' ane anither: Now we maun totter down, John, But hand and hand we'll go, And sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson my jo. THE POSIE. O LUVE will venture in, where it daur na weel be seen, O luve will venture in, where wisdom ance has been; But I will down yon river rove, amang the wood sae green, And a' to pu' a posie to my ain dear May. The primrose I will pu', the firstling o' the year, And I will pu' the pink, the emblem o' my dear, For she's the pink o' womankind, and blooms without a peer; And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. I'll pu' the budding rose when Phoebus peeps in view, For it's like a baumy kiss o' her sweet bonnie mou; The hyacinth's for constancy wi' its unchanging blue, And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. The lily it is pure, and the lily it is fair, And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. The woodbine I will pu' when the e'ening star is near, And the diamond draps o' dew shall be her e'en sae clear: The violet's for modesty which weel she fa's to wear, And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May. I'll tie the posie round wi' the silken band of luve, And I'll place it in her breast, and I'll swear by a' above, That to my latest draught o' life the band shall ne'er remuve, And this will be a posie to my ain dear May. JOHN ANDERSON MY JO. JOIN ANDERSON my jo, John, When we were first acquent; Your locks were like the raven, Your bonnie brow was brent; THE BANKS O' DOON. YE banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair; How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae weary, fu' o' care! Thou'lt break my heart, thou warbling bird, That wantons through the flowering thorn: Thou minds me o' departed joys, Departed never to return. Oft hae I rov'd by bonnie Doon, To see the rose and woodbine twine; And ilka bird sang o' its luve, And fondly sae did I o' mine. SONG. TUNE-"Catharine Ogie." YE flowery banks o' bonnie Doon, Thou'l break my heart, thou bonnie bird That sings upon the bough; Thou minds me o' the happy days When my fause luve was true. Thou'l break my heart, thou bonnie bird Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon, And sae did I o' mine. Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, And my fause luver staw the rose, SIC A WIFE AS WILLIE HAD. WILLIE WASTLE dwalt on Tweed, Cou'd stown a clue wi' ony bodie; Sic a wife as Willie had, She has an e'e, she has but ane, The cat has twa the very colour; Five rusty teeth, forbye a stump, A clapper tongue wad deave a miller; A whisken beard about her mou, Her nose and chin they threaten ither; She's bow-hough'd, she's hein-shinn❜d, Auld baudrans by the ingle sits, An' wi' her loof her face a-washin; But Willie's wife is nae sae trig, She dights her grunzie wi' a hushion; Her walie nieves like midden-crcels, Her face wad fyle the Logan-Water: Sic a wife as Willie had, I wad na gie a button for her. WILT THOU BE MY DEARIE ? WILT thou be my dearie? When sorrow wrings thy gentle heart, Only thou, I swear and vow, Lassie, say thou lo'es me; Or if thou wilt na be my ain, Lassie, let me quickly die, FOR THE SAKE OF SOMEBODY. I could wake a winter night I could range the world around, Ye powers that smile on virtuous lore, Oh-hey! for somebody! I wad do what wad I not? A RED, RED ROSE. O MY luve's like a red, red rose, I will luve thee still, my dear, |