TUNE " THE BRAES O' BALQUHIDDER."
'LL kiss thee yet, yet,
An' I'll kiss thee o'er again,
An' I'll kiss thee yet, yet,
My bonnie Peggy Alison!
ILK care and fear, when thou art near,
I ever mair defy them, O;
Young Kings upon their hansel throne
Are no sae blest as I am, O!
I'll kiss thee, &c.
When in my arms, wi' a' thy charms,
I clasp my countless treasure, O;
I seek nae mair o' Heaven to share,
Than sic a moment's pleasure, O!
I'll kiss thee, &c.
And by thy een sae bonnie blue,
I swear I'm thine for ever, O;-
And on thy lips I seal my vow,
And break it shall I never, O!
I'll kiss thee, &c.
TUNE IF HE BE A BUTCHER NEAT AND TRIM."
N Cessnock Banks a lassie dwells;
Could I describe her shape and mien;
Our lasses a' she far excels,
An' she's twa sparkling, rogueish een.
She's fresher than the morning dawn
When rising Phoebus first is seen,
And dew-drops twinkle o'er the lawn;
An' she's twa sparkling, rogueish een.
She's stately like yon youthful ash
That grows the cowslip braes between,
And drinks the stream with vigour fresh,
An' she's twa sparkling rogueish een.
She's spotless like the flow'ring thorn
With flow'rs so white and leaves so green,
When purest in the dewy morn;
An' she's twa sparkling rogueish een.
Her looks are like the vernal May,
When ev'ning Phoebus shines serene,
While birds rejoice on every spray;
An' she's twa sparkling rogueish een.
Her hair is like the curling mist
That climbs the mountain-sides at e'en, When flow'r-reviving rains are past;
An' she's twa sparkling rogueish een.
Her forehead's like the show'ry bow,
When gleaming sunbeams intervene
And gild the distant mountain's brow;
An' she's twa sparkling rogueish een.
Her cheeks are like yon crimson gem,
The pride of all the flowery scene,
Just opening on its thorny stem;
An' she's twa sparkling rogueish een.
Her lips are like yon cherries ripe,
That sunny walls from Boreas screen, They tempt the taste and charm the sight; An' she's twa sparkling rogueish een.
Her teeth are like a flock of sheep,
With fleeces newly washen clean,
That slowly mount the rising steep;
An' she's twa glancin' sparklin' een.
Her teeth are like the nightly snow
When pale the morning rises keen,
While hid the murmuring streamlets flow;
An' she's twa sparkling rogueish een.*
Her breath is like the fragrant breeze
That gently stirs the blossom'd bean, When Phoebus sinks behind the seas;
An' she's twa sparkling rogueish een.
Her voice is like the ev'ning thrush
That sings on Cessnock Banks unseen, While his mate sits nestling in the bush; An' she's twa sparkling rogueish een.
But it's not her air, her form, her face, Though matching beauty's fabled queen, "Tis the mind that shines in ev'ry grace, An' chiefly in her rogueish een.
OWERS celestial, whose protection
Ever guards the virtuous fair,
While in distant climes I wander,
Let my Mary be your care:
Let her form, sae fair and faultless,
Fair and faultless as your own,
Let my Mary's kindred spirit,
Draw your choicest influence down.
Make the gales you waft around her
Soft and peaceful as her breast;
Breathing in the breeze that fans her,
Soothe her bosom into rest:
Guardian angels! O protect her,
When in distant lands I roam;
To realms unknown while Fate exiles me, Make her bosom still my home.
TUNE-" LAST TIME I CAM O'ER THE MUIR.
OUNG Peggy blooms our bonniest lass,
Her blush is like the morning,
The rosy dawn, the springing grass,
With early gems adorning :
Her eyes outshine the radiant beams
That gild the passing shower,
And glitter o'er the crystal streams,
And cheer each fresh'ning flower.
Her lips more than the cherries bright,
A richer dye has grac'd them,
They charm the admiring gazer's sight,
And sweetly tempt to taste them:
Her smile is as the ev'ning mild,
When feather'd pairs are courting,
And little lambkins wanton wild,
In playful bands disporting.
Were Fortune lovely Peggy's foe,
Such sweetness would relent her,
As blooming Spring unbends the brow
Of surly, savage Winter.
Detraction's eye no aim can gain
Her winning powers to lessen;
And fretful Envy grins in vain,
The poison'd tooth to fasten.
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