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Our thrissles flourish'd fresh and fair,
And bonnie bloom'd our roses;
But Whigs cam' like a frost in June,
And wither'd a' our posies.

Our ancient crown's fa'en in the dust-
Deil blin' them wi' the stoure o't;
And write their names in his black beuk,
Wha gae the Whigs the power o't.

Our sad decay in Church and State
Surpasses my descriving;
The Whigs came o'er us for a curse,
And we hae done with thriving.

Grim vengeance lang has ta’en a nap,
But we may see him wauken;

Gude help the day when royal heads
Are hunted like a maukin!

Awa, Whigs, awa!
Awa, Whigs, awa!

Ye're but a pack o' traitor louns,
Ye'll do nae gude at a'.

IO

20

PEG-A-RAMSEY.

CAULD is the e'enin' blast
O' Boreas o'er the pool,
And dawin' it is dreary

When birks are bare at Yule.

O bitter blaws the e'enin' blast
When bitter bites the frost,
And in the mirk and dreary drift
The hills and glens are lost.

R

Ne'er sae murky blew the night
That drifted o'er the hill,
But bonnie Peg-a-Ramsey
Gat grist to her mill.

COME BOAT ME O'ER TO CHARLIE.

COME boat me o'er, come row me o'er,
Come boat me o'er to Charlie;
I'll gie John Ross another bawbee,
To boat me o'er to Charlie.

We'll o'er the water and o'er the sea,
We'll o'er the water to Charlie;

Come weal, come woe, we'll gather and go,
And live or die wi' Charlie.

I lo'e weel my Charlie's name,
Tho' some there be abhor him:
But O, to see auld Nick gaun hame,
And Charlie's faes before him!

I swear and vow by moon and stars,
And sun that shines so clearly,

If I had twenty thousand lives,
I'd die as aft for Charlie.

We'll o'er the water and o'er the sea,
We'll o'er the water to Charlie;

Come weal, come woe, we'll gather and go,
And live or die with Charlie!

IO

ΙΟ

20

SAE FAIR HER HAIR.

BRAW, braw lads of Gala Water!
O braw lads of Gala Water!
I'll kilt my coats aboon my knee,
And follow my love through the water.

Sae fair her hair, sae brent her brow,
Sae bonnie blue her een, my dearie;
Sae white her teeth, sae sweet her mou',
The mair I kiss she's aye my dearie.

O'er yon bank and o'er yon brae,
O'er yon moss amang the heather;

I'll kilt my coats aboon my knee,

And follow my love through the water.

Down amang the broom, the broom,
Down amang the broom, my dearie,

The lassie lost a silken snood,

That cost her mony a blirt and blear ee.

Braw, braw lads of Gala Water!

O braw lads of Gala Water:

I'll kilt my coats aboon my knee,

And follow my love through the water.

JO

20

COMING THROUGH THE RYE.

COMING through the rye, poor body,
Coming through the rye,

She draiglet a' her petticoatie,
Coming through the rye.

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O haud your tongue now, Luckie Laing,
O haud your tongue and jauner;

I held the gate till you I met,

Syne I began to wander:

I tint my whistle and my sang,
I tint my peace and pleasure;

But your green graff, now, Luckie Laing,
Wad airt me to my treasure.

ΤΟ

THE SLAVE'S LAMENT.

Ir was in sweet Senegal that my foes did me enthral, For the lands of Virginia O;

Torn from that lovely shore, I must never see it more, And alas I am weary, weary O!

All on that charming coast is no bitter snow or frost, Like the lands of Virginia 0;

There streams for ever flow, and there flowers for ever blow, And alas I am weary, weary O!

The burden I must bear, while the cruel scourge I fear, In the lands of Virginia O;

ΙΟ

And I think on friends most dear, with the bitter, bitter

tear,

And alas I am weary, weary O!

HAD I THE WYTE.

HAD I the wyte, had I the wyte,
Had I the wyte? she bade me!
She watch'd me by the hie-gate side,
And up the loan she shaw'd me;
And when I wadna venture in,

A coward loon she ca'd me:

Had kirk and state been in the gate,
I lighted when she bade me.

Sae craftilie she took me ben,

And bade me make nae clatter;
'For our ramgunshoch glum gudeman
Is out and owre the water: '
Whae'er shall say I wanted grace,
When I did kiss and daut her,
Let him be planted in my place,
Syne say I was the fautor.

ΙΟ

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