Duncan sigh'd baith out and in,
Grat his een baith bleer't and blin',
Spak o' lowpin o'er a linn;
Ha, ha, &c.

Time and chance are but a tide,
Ha, ha, &c.

Slighted love is sair to bide,
Ha, ha, &c.

Shall I, like a fool, quoth he,
For a haughty hizzie die?
She may gae to-France for me!
Ha, ha, &c.

How it comes let doctors tell,

Ha, ha, &c.

Meg grew sick

—as he grew well,

Ha, ha, &c.

Something in her bosom wrings,

For relief a sigh she brings;

And O, her een they spak sic things! Ha, ha, &c.

Duncan was a lad o' grace,
Ha, ha, &c.

Maggie's was a piteous case,
Ha, ha, &c.

Duncan couldna be her death,
Swelling pity smoor'd his wrath,
Now they're crouse and cantie baith;
Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

POORTITH cauld, and restless love,
Ye wreck my peace between ye;
Yet poortith a' I could forgive,
An' 'twerena for my Jeanie.
O why should fate sic pleasure have,
Life's dearest bands untwining?
Or why sae sweet a flower as love
Depend on Fortune's shining?

This warld's wealth when I think on,
Its pride, and a' the lave o't;
Fie, fie on silly, coward man,
That he should be the slave o't.
O why, &c.

Her een sae bonnie blue betray
How she repays my passion;
But prudence is her o'erword aye,
She talks of rank and fashion.
O why, &c.

O wha can prudence think upon,
And sic a lassie by him?
O wha can prudence think upon,
And sae in love as I am?
O why, &c.

How blest the humble cotter's fate!
He woos his simple dearie;
The silly bogles, wealth and state,
Can never make them eerie.

O why should fate sic pleasure have,
Life's dearest bands untwining?
Or why sae sweet a flower as love
Depend on Fortune's shining?

GALA WATER.

HERE'S braw, braw lads on Yarrow braes,
That wander through the blooming

heather,

But Yarrow braes nor Ettrick shaws Can match the lads o' Gala Water.

But there is ane, a secret ane,

Aboon them a' I lo'e him better; And I'll be his and he'll be mine, The bonnie lad o' Gala Water.

Although his daddie was nae laird,
And though I hae nae meikle tocher;
Yet rich in kindest, truest love,

We'll tent our flocks by Gala Water.

It ne'er was wealth, it ne'er was wealth,
That coft contentment, peace, or pleasure;
The bands and bliss o' mutual love,

Oh, that's the chiefest warld's treasure!

LORD GREGORY.

MIRK, mirk is this midnight hour,
And loud the tempest's roar,
A waefu' wanderer seeks thy tow'r,
Lord Gregory, ope thy door.

An exile frae her father's ha',
And a' for loving thee;

At least some pity on me shaw,

If love it mayna be.

Lord Gregory, mind'st thou not the grove,

By bonnie Irwine side,
Where first I own'd that virgin-love,
I lang, lang had denied?

How aften didst thou pledge and vow,

Thou wad for aye be mine!

And my fond heart, itsel sae true,

It ne'er mistrusted thine.

Hard is thy heart, Lord Gregory,

And flinty is thy breast:
Thou dart of heaven that flashest by,
Oh, wilt thou give me rest!

Ye mustering thunders from above,
Your willing victim see!

But spare and pardon my fause love,
His wrangs to Heaven and me!

OPEN THE DOOR TO ME, OH!

WITH ALTERATIONS.

H, open the door, some pity to show,
Oh, open the door to me, Oh!

Though thou hast been false, I'll ever
prove true,

Oh, open the door to me, Oh!

"Cauld is the blast upon my pale cheek,
But caulder thy love for me, Oh!
The frost that freezes the life at my heart,
Is nought to my pains frae thee, Oh!

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

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

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

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