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O whare gat ye that hauver-meal bannock,

O silly blind bodie, O dinna ye see!
I got it frae a sodger laddie,

Between Saint Johnstone and bonnie Dundee.
O gin I saw the laddie that gae me't!

Aft has he doudl'd me on his knee:
May heav'n protect my bonnie Scotch laddie,

And sen' him safe hame to his babie and me!

• This song was accompanied by the following laconic epistle.

« Dear Cleghorn,

“ You will see by the above that I have added a stanza to • Bonnie Dundee: If you think it will do, you may set it agoing

Upon a ten-string instrument
• And on the Psaltery-

R, B.

“ Mr. Cleghorn,

« FarmerGod bless the trade.”

May blessins light on thy sweet, wee lippie!

May blessins light on thy bonnie ee-bree!
Thou smiles sae like my sodger laddie,

Thou's dearer, dearer ay to me!
But I'll big a bow'r on yon bonnie banks,

Whare Tay rins wimplan by sae clear ;
An' I'll cleed thee in the tartan fine,

An' mak thee a man like thy daddie dear!

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(To its own Tune.)

Near Edinburgh was a young son born,

Hey lilelu an'a how low lan',
An' his name it was called young Hynhorn,
An' its hey down down deedle airo.

Seven long years he served the king,

Hey, &c. An' it's a' for the sake of his daughter Jean.

An' it's hey, &c.

The king an angry man was he,
He send young Hynhorn to the sea.


An' on his finger she put a ring.


When your ring turns pale and wan,
Then I'm in love wi' another man.


Upon a day he look'd at his ring,
It was as pale as any thing.

He's left the sea, an' he's come to the lan',
An' there he met an auld beggar man.

What news, what news, my auld beggar man,
What news, what news by sea or by lau'.

Nae news, nae news, the auld beggar said,
But the king's dochter Jean is going to be wed.

Cast aff, cast aff thy auld beggar-weed,
An' I'll gie thee my gude gray steed.

When he cam to our guid king's yet,
He sought a glass o' wine for young Hynhorn's sake.

He drank out the wine an' he put in the ring,
An' he bade them carry't to the king's dochter Jean.

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O gat ye’t by sea, or gat ye’t by lan',
Or gat ye't aff a dead man's han' ?

I gat na't by sea, I gat na't by lan',
But I gat it out of your owu han’.

Go take away my bridal gown,
An' I'll follow him frae town to town.

Ye need na leave


gown, For I'll make ye ladie o' mony' a town.

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