For while life's dearest blood is warm,
Ae thought frae her shall ne'er depart,
And she as fairest is her form,

She has the truest, kindest heart.

LIX.

I'LL AYE CA' IN BY YON TOWN.

I'LL aye ca' in by yon town,

And by yon garden green again;

I'll ay ca' in by yon town,

And see my bonnie Jean again.

There's nane sall ken, there's nane sall guess,

What brings me back the gate again,

But she, my fairest faithfu' lass,

And stownlins we sall meet again,

She'll wander by the aiken tree,
When trystin-time draws near again;
And when her lovely form I see,
O haith, she's doubly dear again!

LX.

TUNE-Moray.

O WHA is she that lo'es me,
And has my heart a-keeping?
O sweet is she that lo'es me,
As dews o' simmer weeping,
In tears the rose-buds steeping,

CHORUS.

O that's the lassie o'

my heart,
My lassie ever dearer;

O that's the queen o' womankind,
And ne'er a ane to peer her.

If thou shalt meet a lassie,
In grace and beauty charming,
That e'en thy chosen lassie,

Ere while thy breast sae warming,
Had ne'er sic powers alarming;
O that's, &c.

If thou hadst heard her talking,
And thy attentions plighted,
That ilka body talking,

But her by thee is slighted,
And thou art all delighted;

O that's, &c.

If thou hast met this fair one;
When frae her thou hast parted,

If every other fair one,

But her, thou hast deserted,

And thou art broken-hearted ;

O that's, &c.

LXI.

WHISTLE, AND I'LL COME TO YOU, MY LAD!

O WHISTLE, and I'll come to you, my lad!
O whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad!
Tho' father and mither and a' should gae mad,
O`whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad !

But warily tent, when ye come to court me,
And comena unless the back-yett be a-jee;
Syne up the back-stile, and let naebody see,
And come as ye werena comin to me.
And come, &c.

O whistle, &c.

At kirk, or at market, whene'er ye meet me, Gang by me as tho' that ye caredna a flie: But steal me a blink o' your bonnie black ee, Yet look as ye werena lookin at me.

Yet look, &c.

O whistle, &c.

Aye vow and protest that ye carena for me,
And whiles ye may lightly my beauty a wee;
But courtna anither, tho' jokin ye be,

For fear that she wyle your fancy frae me.
For fear, &c.

O whistle, &c.

LXII.

WILLIE BREW'D A PECK O' MAUT.

O, WILLIE brew'd a peck o' maut,
And Rob and Allan came to see;
Three blither hearts, that lee-lang night,
Ye wadna find in Christendie.

CHORUS.

We arena fou, we're no that fou,
But just a drappie in our ee;
The cock may craw, the day may daw,
And aye we'll taste the barley bree,

Here are we met, three merry boys,
Three merry boys I trow are we;
And mony a night we've merry been,
And mony mae we hope to be!

We arena fou, &c.

It is the moon, I ken her horn,
That's blinkin in the lift sae hie;
She shines sae bright to wyle us hame,
But by my sooth she'll wait a wee!
We arena fou, &c.

Wha first shall rise to gang awa,
A cuckold, coward loun is he !
Wha last beside his chair shall fa',
He is the king amang us three!
We arena fou, &c.

LXIII.

I LOVE MY JEAN.

TUNE-Miss Admiral Gordon's Strathspey.

OF 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
By fountain, shaw, or green;
There's not a bonnie bird that sings,
But minds me o' my Jean.

LXIV..

OPEN THE DOOR TO ME, O!

WITH ALTERATIONS.

O, OPEN the door, some pity to show,
O, open the door to me, O !

Tho' thou hast been false, I'll ever prove true :
O, open the door to me, O!

Cauld is the blast upon my pale cheek,

But caulder thy love for me, O!

The frost that freezes the life at my heart,
Is naught to my pains frae thee, O !

The wan moon is setting behind the white wave,
And time is setting with me, O !

False friends, false love, farewell! for mair
I'll ne'er trouble them, nor thee, O!

She has open'd the door, she has open'd it wide;
She sees his pale corse on the plain, O!

My true love, she cried, and sank down by his side, Never to rise again, O!