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My seven braw sons for Jamie drew sword,

And now I greet round their green beds in the yerd;
It brak the sweet heart o' my faithfu' auld dame-
There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame.

Now life is a burden that bows me down,
Sin' I tint my bairns, and he tint his crown;
But till my last moment my words are the same-
There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame.

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FAREWEEL TO A' OUR SCOTTISH FAME.

FAREWEEL to a' our Scottish fame,
Fareweel our ancient glory!
Fareweel even to the Scottish name,
Sae fam'd in martial story!

Now Sark rins o'er the Solway sands,
And Tweed rins to the ocean,

To mark where England's province stands;
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!

What guile or force could not subdue,
Through many warlike ages,

Is wrought now by a coward few,
For hireling traitors' wages.
The English steel we could disdain,
Secure in valour's station,

But English gold has been our bane;
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!

O would, ere I had seen the day
That treason thus could sell us,
My auld grey head had lien in clay,
Wi' Bruce and loyal Wallace!
But pith and power, till my last hour
I'll mak this declaration,

We're bought and sold for English gold:
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!

IO

20

WILL YE GO TO THE INDIES, MY MARY.

WILL ye go to the Indies, my Mary,

And leave auld Scotia's shore?
Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary,
Across the Atlantic's roar?

O sweet grows the lime and the orange,
And the apple on the pine;

But a' the charms o' the Indies

Can never equal thine.

I hae sworn by the Heavens to my Mary,
I hae sworn by the Heavens to be true;
And sae may the Heavens forget me,
When I forget my vow!

O plight me your faith, my Mary,
And plight me your lily-white hand;
O plight me your faith, my Mary,
Before I leave Scotia's strand.

We hae plighted our troth, my Mary,
In mutual affection to join ;

And curst be the cause that shall part us!
The hour, and the moment o' time!

THE BONNIE LAD THAT'S FAR AWA'.

O How can I be blithe and glad,
Or how can I gang brisk and braw,
When the bonnie lad that I lo'e best
Is o'er the hills and far awa?

It's no the frosty winter wind,

It's no the driving drift and snaw;
But aye the tear comes in my ee,
To think on him that's far awa.

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20

My father pat me frae his door,

My friends they hae disown'd me a': But I hae ane will tak my part,

The bonnie lad that 's far awa.

A pair o' gloves he bought to me,
And silken snoods he gae me twa;
And I will wear them for his sake,
The bonnie lad that's far awa.

O weary winter soon will pass,

And spring will cleed the birken shaw: And my young babie will be born,

And he'll be hame that's far awa.

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20

YESTREEN I HAD A PINT O' WINE.

YESTREEN I had a pint o' wine,

A place where body saw na';
Yestreen lay on this breast o' mine
The gowden locks of Anna.
The hungry Jew in wilderness

Rejoicing o'er his manna,

Was naething to my hinny bliss
Upon the lips of Anna.

Ye monarchs, tak the east and west,
Frae Indus to Savannah !

Gie me within my straining grasp
The melting form of Anna.
There I'll despise imperial charms,
An Empress or Sultana,
While dying raptures in her arms
I give and take with Anna!

Awa, thou flaunting god o' day!
Awa, thou pale Diana!

Ilk star, gae hide thy twinkling ray
When I'm to meet my Anna.

ΙΟ

20

Come, in thy raven plumage, night!
Sun, moon, and stars withdrawn a';
And bring an angel pen to write
My transports wi' my Anna !

(Postscript.)

The kirk and state may join, and tell
To do such things I mauna :
The kirk and state may gae to hell,
And I'll gae to my Anna.

She is the sunshine o' my ee,
To live but her I canna;

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Had I on earth but wishes three,
The first should be my Anna.

MY TOCHER'S THE JEWEL.

O MEIKLE thinks my luve o' my beauty,
And meikle thinks my luve o' my kin;
But little thinks my luve I ken brawlie

My tocher's the jewel has charms for him.
It's a' for the apple he'll nourish the tree ;
It's a' for the hiney he'll cherish the bee;
My laddie's sae meikle in love wi' the siller,
He canna hae luve to spare for me.

Your proffer o' luve's an airle-penny,
My tocher's the bargain ye wad buy;
But an ye be crafty, I am cunnin',

Sae ye wi' anither your fortune may try.
Ye're like to the timmer o' yon rotten wood;
Ye're like to the bark o' yon rotten tree;
Ye'll slip frae me like a knotless thread,
And ye'll crack your credit wi' mae nor me.

10

What can a young Lassie do wi' an auld Man? 375

WHAT CAN A YOUNG LASSIE DO WI' AN
AULD MAN?

WHAT can a young lassie, what shall a young lassie,
What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man?
Bad luck on the penny that tempted my minnie
To sell her poor Jenny for siller an' lan'!

He's always compleenin' frae mornin to e'enin',
He hosts and he hirples the weary day lang :
He's doylt and he's dozin, his bluid it is frozen,
O, dreary's the night wi' a crazy auld man !

He hums and he hankers, he frets and he cankers,
I never can please him do a' that I can;
He's peevish, and jealous of a' the young fellows:
O, dool on the day I met wi' an auld man!

My auld auntie Katie upon me takes pity,

I'll do my endeavour to follow her plan;

I'll cross him and rack him, until I heart-break him, And then his auld brass will buy me a new pan.

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BLYTHE AND MERRY.

BLYTHE, blythe and merry was she,
Blythe was she but and ben:
Blythe by the banks of Earn,

And blythe in Glenturit glen.

By Ochtertyre there grows the aik,
On Yarrow banks the birken shaw;
But Phemie was a bonnier lass

Than braes o' Yarrow ever saw.

Her looks were like a flower in May,

Her smile was like a simmer morn;

She tripped by the banks of Earn
As light's a bird upon a thorn.

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