The lily it is pure, and the lily it is fair,
And in her lovely bosom I'll place the lily there;
The daisy's for simplicity and unaffected air,
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.

The hawthorn I will pu', wi' its locks o' siller grey,
Where, like an aged man, it stands at break o' day,
But the songster's nest within the bush I winna
tak away;

And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.

near,

The woodbine I will pu' when the e'ening star is [clear: And the diamond drops o' dew shall be her een sae The violets for modesty which weel she fa's to wear, And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.

a' above,

I'll tie the posie round wi' the silken band o'luve, And I'll place it in her breast, and I'll swear by [remuve, That to my latest draught o' life the band shall ne'er And this will be a posie to my ain dear May.

THE BANKS O' DOON.

TUNE-The Caledonian Hunt's Delight.

YE banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,
bloom sae fresh and fair!

How can ye

How can ye chant, ye little birds,

And I sae weary, fu' o' care!

Thou'lt break my heart, thou warbling bird,
That wantons thro' the flowering thorn:

Thou minds me o' departed joys,

Departed-never to return.

SIC A WIFE AS WILLIE HAD.

Aft 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. Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree; And my fause luver stole my rose,

But ah! he left the thorn wi' me.

SIC A WIFE AS WILLIE HAD.
TUNE-Tibbie Fowler in the Glen.

WILLIE Wastle dwalt on Tweed,
The spot they ca'd it Linkumdoddie,
Willie was a wabster guid,

Cou'd stown a clue wi' ony bodie;
He had a wife was dour and din,
O, Tinkler Madgie was her mither;
Sic a wife as Willie had,

I wadna gie a button for her.
She has an ee, 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 whiskin beard about her mou,

Her nose and chin they threaten ither;
Sic a wife, &c.

She's bow-hough'd, she's hein shinn'd,
Ae limpin leg a hand-breed shorter;
She's twisted right, she's twisted left,
To balance fair in ilka quarter:
She has a hump upon her breast,
The twin o' that upon her shouther;
Sic a wife, &c.

VOL. II.

L

117

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-creels,
Her face wad fyle the Logan-water;
Sic a wife as Willie had,
I wadna gie a button for her.

GLOOMY DECEMBER.

ANCE mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December!
Ance mair I hail thee wi' sorrow and care;
Sad was the parting thou makes me remember,
Parting wi' Nancy, oh! ne'er to meet mair.
Fond lovers' parting is sweet painful pleasure,
Hope beaming mild on the soft parting hour;
But the dire feeling, O, farewell for ever
Is anguish unmingl'd and agony pure.

Wild as the winter now tearing the forest,
Till the last leaf o' the summer is flown,
Such is the tempest has taken my bosom,
Since my last hope and my comfort is gone;
Still as I hail thee, thou gloomy December,
Still shall I hail thee wi' sorrow and care;
For sad was the parting thou makes me remember,
Parting wi' Nancy, oh! ne'er to meet mair.

BEHOLD THE HOUR.

TUNE-Oran-gaoil.

BEHOLD the hour, the boat arrive;
Thou goest, thou darling of my heart!
Sever'd from thee can I survive?

But fate has will'd, and we must part. I'll often greet this surging swell,

Yon distant isle will often hail:

'E'en here I took the last farewell; There latest mark'd her vanish'd sail.'

Along the solitary shore,

While flitting sea-fowl round me cry, Across the rolling, dashing roar I'll westward turn my wistful eye : Happy, thou Indian grove, I'll say, Where now my Nancy's path may While thro' thy sweets she loves to stray, O, tell me, does she muse on me?

be!

SHE'S FAIR AND FAUSE.

SHE'S fair and fause that causes my smart,
I lo'ed her meikle and lang:
She's broken her vow, she's broken my heart,
And I may e'en gae hang.

A coof cam in wi' rowth o' gear,
And I hae tint my dearest dear,
But woman is but warld's gear,
Sae let the bonnie lass gang.