Go, find an honest fellow;
Good claret set before thee;
Hold on till thou art mellow,
And then to bed in glory.
TUN "The Quaker's Wife."
THINE am I, my faithful fair,
Thine, my lovely Nancy;
Every pulse along my veins,
Every roving fancy.
To thy bosom lay my heart,
There to throb and languish :
Though despair had wrung its core,
That would heal its anguish.
Take away these rosy lips,
Rich with balmy treasure:
Turn away thine eyes of love,
Lest I die with pleasure.
What is life when wanting love?
Night without a morning :
Love's the cloudless summer sun,
Nature gay adorning.
TUNE"Saw ye my Father?"
WHERE are the joys I have met in the morning,
That danced to the lark's early song?
Where is the peace that awaited my wand'ring,
At evening the wild woods among ?
No more a-winding the course of yon river,
And marking sweet flow'rets so fair;
No more I taste the light footsteps of pleasure,
But sorrow and sad sighing care,
Is it that summer's forsaken our valleys,
And grim, surly winter is near?
No, no, the bees humming round the gay roses
Proclaim it the pride of the year.
Fain would I hide what I fear to discover,
Yet long, long too well have I known;
All that has caused this wreck in my bosom,
Is Jenny, fair Jenny alone,
Time cannot aid me, my griefs are immortal,
Nor hope dare a comfort bestow :
Come then, enamour'd and fond of my anguish,
Enjoyment I'll seek in my woe.
WILT THOU BE MY DEARIE.
TUNE "The Sutor's dochter."
WILT thou be my dearie?
When sorrow wrings thy gentle heart,
Wilt thou let me cheer thee?
By the treasure of my soul,
That's the love I bear thee!
I swear and vow that only thou
Shall ever be my dearie;
Only thou, I swear and vow,
Shall ever be my dearie.
Lassie, say thou lo’es me;
Or, if thou wiltna be my ain,
Sayna thou't refuse me:
If it winna, canna be,
Thou for thine may choose me,
Let me, lassie, quickly die,
Trusting that thou lo'es me.
Lassie, let me quickly die,
Trusting that thou lo'es me
TUNE" Hey, tuttie, tattie."
SCOTS, wha hate wi' Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Bruce has often led,
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to glorious victorie!
Now's the day and now's the hour.
See the front o' battle lour;
See approach proud Edward's power-
Edward! chains and slaverie !
Wha will be a traitor knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a slave !
Traitor! coward! turn and flee!
Wha for Scotland's king and law
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Free-man stand, or free-man fa',
Caledonians! on wi' me!
By oppression's woes and pains!
By our sons in servile chains!
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall be-shall be free.
Lay the proud usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe
Liberty's in every blow!
Forward! let us do, or die!
HUSBAND, HUSBAND, CEASE YOUR STRIFE.
HUSBAND, husband, cease your strife,
No longer idly rave, Sir;
Though I am your wedded wife,
Yet I am not your slave, Sir.
"One of two must still obey,
Nancy, Nancy;
Is it man or woman, say,
My spouse, Nancy?"
If 'tis still the lordly word,
Service and obedience;
I'll desert my sov'reign lord,
And so, good b'ye allegiance!
"Sad will I be, so bereft,
Nancy, Nancy,
Yet I'll try to make a shift,
My spouse, Nancy."
My poor heart then break it must,
My last hour I'm near it :
When you lay me in the dust,
Think, think how you will bear it! "I will hope and trust in Heaven, Nancy, Nancy;
Strength to bear it will be given,
My spouse Nancy."
Well, Sir, from the silent dead
Still I'll try to daunt you;
Ever round your midnight bed
Horrid sprites shall haunt you;
"I'll wed another, like my dear
Nancy, Nancy;
Then all hell will fly for fear
My spouse, Nancy."
ON THE SEAS AND FAR AWAY.
TUNE "O'er the Hills," &c.
How can my poor heart be glad
When absent from my sailor lad!
How can I the thought forego,
He's on the seas to meet the foe?
Let me wander, let me rove,
Still my heart is with my love;
Nightly dreams and thoughts by day
Are with him that's far away.
On the seas and far away,
On stormy seas and far away:
Nightly dreams and thoughts by day
Are aye with him that's far away.
When in summer's noon I faint,
As weary flocks around me pant,
Haply in this scorching sun
My sailor's thund'ring at his gun :
Bullets, spare my only joy!
Bullets, spare my darling boy!
Fate, do with me what you may,
Spare but him that's far away.
At the starless midnight hour,
When winter rules with boundless power;
As the storms the forest tear,
And thunders rend the howling air,
Listening to the doubling roar,
Surging on the rocky shore,
All I can-I weep and pray,
For his weal that's far away.
Peace, thy olive wand extend,
And bid wild war his ravage end,
Man with brother man to meet,
And as a brother kindly greet:
Then may heaven with prosp'rous gales
Fill my sailor's welcome sails,
To my arms my charge convey,
My dear lad that's far away.
On the seas and far away,
On stormy seas and far away:
Nightly dreams and thoughts by day
Are aye with him that's far away.
THE LOVER'S MORNING SALUTE TO HIS MISTRESS.
TUNE" Deil tak' the wars."
SLEEP'ST thou, or wak'st thou, fairest creature ?
Rosy morn now lifts his eye,
Numbering ilka bud which Nature
Waters wi' the tears o' joy:
Now thro' the leafy woods,
And by the reeking floods,
Wild Nature's tenants freely, gladly, stray;
The lintwhite in his bower
Chants o'er the breathing flower;
The lav'rock to the sky
Ascends wi' sangs o' joy,
While the sun and thou arise to bless the day.
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