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Nae lav’sock sang on hillock green,

But nature sicken'd op the e'e. Thro' faded groves Maria sang,

Hersel in beauties bloom the while, An'ay the wild-wood echoes rang,

Fareweel the braes o' Ballochmyle. Low in your wintr'y beds, ye flow'rs,

Again ye'll flourish fresh and fair; Ye birdies dumb, in with’ring bow'rs,

Again ye'll charm the vocal air. Nae joys, alas! for me are here,

Nae pleasure find I in this soil, Until Maria again appear,

Farewell the braes o' Ballochmyle.

O FOR ANE AN' TWENTY, TAM.

An' 0, for ane an' twenty, Tam!

An' hey, sweet ane an' twenty, Tam; I'll learn my kin a rattlin sang,

An' I saw ane an' twenty, Tam! THEY snool me sair, and haud me down,

An'gar me look like bluntie, Tam! But three short years will soon wheel roun', An' then comes ane an' twenty, Tam.

An' 0, for ane,

&c. A gleib o'lan', a claut o'

gear,
Was left me by my auntie, Tam ;
At kith or kid I need na spier,
An' I saw ane an' twenty, Tam..

An' 0, for ane, &c. They'll hae me wed a wealthy coof,

Tho' I mysel bae plenty, Tam: But hear'st thou, laddie, there's my loof, I'm thine at age an' twenty, Tam!

An' O, for ane, &c.

THEN GUIDWIFE COUNT THE LAWIN.

GANE is the day, and mirk's the night;
But we'll ne'er stray for faute o’ light,
For ale and brandy's stars and moon,
And blude-red wine's the risin sun.
Then guidwife count the lawin, the lawin, the lawin,
Then guidwife count the Jawin, and bring a coggie

mair.

There's wealth and ease for gentlemen,
And simple folk maun fecht and fen,
But here we're a' in aė accord,
For ilka man that's drunk's a lord.

Then gudewife count, &c.
My coggie is a haly pool,
That heals the wounds o' care an' dool;
And pleasure is a wanton trout,
An' ye drink it a' ye'll find him out.

Then gudewife count, &c.

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WHAT CAN A YOUNG LASSIE, &c. WHAT can a young lassie, what shall a young

Tassie,
What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man ?
Bad luck on the pennie that tempted my minnie
To sell her poor Jenny for siller an' lan'!

Bad luck ou the peunie, &c. He's always compleenin frae morning to e'enin,

He hosts and he hirples the weary day lang ; He's doyi't and he's dozin, his blude it is frozen,

o dreary's the night wi' a crazy auld man!
He hums and he hankers, he frets and he cankers,

I never can please him, do a' that I can;
He's peevish and jealous of a' the young fellows,

O, dool on the day I met wi'an auld man!

My auld auntie Katie upon me takes pity,

I'll do my endeavour to follow her plan; I'll cross him, and wrack him, until I heart-brak

him, And then his auld brass will buy me a new pan.

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THE BIRKS OF ABERFELDY.

Now simmer blinks on flow'ry braes,
And o'er the chrystal streamlets plays,
Come, let us spend the lightsome days

In the Birks of Aberfeldy.

CHORUS.

Bonnie lassie, will ye go, will ye go, will ye go,
Bonnie lassie, will ye go, to the Birks of Aberfeldy:

While o'er their heads the hazels bing,
The little birdies blithely sing,
Or lightly fit on wanton wing
In the Birks of Aberfeldy.

Bonnie lassie, &c.
The braes ascend like lofty wa’s,
The foaming stream deep roaring fa's,
O’erhung with fragrant spreading shaws,
In the Birks of Aberfeldy.

Bonny lassie, &c.
The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi' flow'rs,
White o'er the linns the burnie pours,
And rising weets wi' misty show'rs,
In the Birks of Aberfeldy.

Bonnie lassie, &c
Let fortune's gifts at random flee,
They ne'er shall draw a wish frae me,
Supremely blest wi' love and thee
in the Birks of Aberfeldy.

Bonnie lassie, &c.

THE BANKS OF THE DEVON.

How pleasant the banks of the clear winding

Devon,
With green spreading bushes, and flow'rs blooming

fair, But the bonniest flow'r on the banks of the Devon,

Was once a sweet bud on the braes of the Ayr. Mild be the sun on this sweet blushing flow'r,

In the gay rosy morn, as it bathes in the dew, Apd gentle the fall of the soft vernal show'r,

That steals on the ev’ning each leaf to renew. LO spare the dear blossoms, ye orient breezes,

With chill hoary wing, as ye usher the dawn; And far be thou distant, thou reptile that seizes

The verdure and pride of the garden and lawn. Let Bourbon exult in her gay gilded lilies,

And England, triumphant, display her proud rose; JA fairer than either adorns the green valleys,

Where Devon, sweet Devon, meandering flows. 5

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THE CHEVALIER'S LAMENT.

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Tune-Captain O’Kain. The small birds rejoice in the green leaves re

turning, The murmuring streamlet runs clear thro' the vale, he primroses blow in the dew of the morning,

And wild scatter'd cowslips bedeck the green dale ; ut what can give pleasure, or what can seem fair, hen the lingering moments are numbered by

care?
birds sweetly singing, ror flow'rs gaily spring-

ing,
Can sooth the sad bosom of joyless despair.

The deed that I dar'd, could it merit their malice,

A king and a father to place on his throne ! His right are these hills, and his right are these val.

leys, Where the' wild beasts find shelter, but I can find

none. But 'tis not my sufferings, thus wretched, forlorn,

My brave gallant friends, 'tis your ruin I mouro, Your faith prov'd so loyal in hot bloody trial,

Alas! can I make it no better return.

HEY FOR A LASS WI'A TOCHER.

AWA wi' your witchcraft o’ beauty's alarms;
The slender bit beauty you grasp in your arms:
O, gie ine the lass that has acres o'charms,
(), gie me the lass wi' the weel-stockit farms.

CHORUS. Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher; then hey for a lass

wi' a tocher ; Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher; the nice yellow

guineas for me. Your beauty's a flow'r, in the morning that blows, And withers the faster, the faster it grows; But the rapturous charms o' the bonnie green knowes, Ilk spring they're new deckit wi' bonnie white yowes,

Then hey, &c. And e'en when this beauty your bosom has blest, The brightest of beauty may cloy when possest; But the sweet yellow darlings wi: Geordie imprest, The langer ye hae them--the mair they're carest,

Then bey, &c.

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