IV. How pleasant thy banks and green vallies below, Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow; There oft as mild evening weeps over the lea, The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me.

V.

Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides,
And winds by the cot where my Mary resides ;
How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave,
As gathering sweet flow'rets she stems thy clear

wave.

VI. Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays ; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.

K3

SONG LVI.

WHERE CART RINS ROWIN, &c.

AIR-THE GALLANT WEAVER.

I.

WHERE Cart rins rowin to the sea, By mony a flow'r and spreading tree, There lives a lad, the lad for me,

He is a gallant weaver.

II. Oh I had wooers aught or nine, They gied me rings and ribbons fine; And I was fear'd my heart would tine,

And I gied it to the weaver.

III.
My daddie signed my tocher-band,
To gie the lad that has the land,
But to my heart I'll add my hand,

And give it to the weaver.

IV. While birds rejoice in leafy bowers; While bees delight in op'ning flowers ; While corn grows green in simmer showers,

I'll love my gallant weaver. *

SONG LVII.

MY HEART IS SAIR, I DARE NA TELL.

AIR-SOMEBODY.

I.
My heart is sair, I dare na tell,

My heart is sair for somebody;
I could wake a winter night
For the sake of somebody.

Oh-hon! for somebody!

Oh-hey! for somebody!
I could range the world around,
For the sake o' somebody.

II. Ye

powers that smile on virtuous love, O sweetly smile on somebody! Frae ilka danger keep him free, And send me safe my somebody.

Oh-hon! for somebody!

Oh-hey! for somebody! I wad do-what wad I not, For the sake o' somebody?

SONG LVIII.

THE LOVELY LASS O INVERNESS.

AIR-THE LASS OF INVERNESS.

I.
The lovely lass o' Inverness,

Nae joy nor pleasure can she see;
For e'en and morn she cries, alas !
And

ay

the saut tear blins her e'e: Drumossie moor, Drumossie day,

A waefu' day it was to me; For there I lost my father dear,

My father dear, and brethren three.

II.
Their winding sheet the bluidy clay,

Their graves are gowing green to see; And by them lies the dearest lad

That ever blest a woman's e'e ! Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord,

A bluidy man I trow thou be ; For mony a heart thou hast made sair,

That ne'er did wrong to thine or thee.