THE BANKS O' DOON.

YE banks and braes o' bonnie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair;
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary, fu' o' care!

Thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird,
That wantons thro' the flowering thorn:
Thou minds me o' departed joys,

Departed never to return,

Oft hae I rov'd by bonnie Doon,

To see the rose and woodbine twine;

And ilka bird sang o' its luve,

And fondly sae did I o' mine. Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree; And my fause luver stole my rose,

But, ah! he left the thorn wi' me.

SIC

SIC A WIFE AS WILLIE HAD.

WILLIE Wastle dwalt on Tweed,
The spot they ca'd it Linkumdoddie,
Willie was a wabster gude,

Cou'd stown a clue wi' ony

bodie;

He had a wife was dour and din,

O Tinkler Madgie was her mither;

Sic a wife as Willie had,
I wad na gie a button for her.

She has an e'e, she has but ane,

The cat has twa the very colour;

Five rusty teeth, forbye a stump,

A clapper tongue wad deave a miller;

A whiskin beard about her mou,

Her nose and chin they threaten ither;
Sic a wife, &c.

She's

She's bow-hough'd, she's hein shinn'd,
Ae limpin leg a hand-breed shorter ;
She's twisted right, she's twisted left,
To balance fair in ilka quarter:
She has a hump upon her breast,
The twin o' that upon her shouther;
Sic a wife, &c.

Auld baudrans by the ingle sits,

An' wi' her loof her face a washin; But Willie's wife is nae sae trig,

She dights her grunzie wi' a hushion; Her walie nieves like midden-creels, Her face wad fyle the Logan-water;

Sic a wife as Willie had,

I wad na gie a button for her.

GLOOMY

GLOOMY DECEMBER,

ANCE mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December! Ance mair I hail thee wi' sorrow and care; Sad was the parting thou makes me remember, Parting wi' Nancy, Oh! ne'er to meet mair, Fond lovers parting is sweet painful pleasure, Hope beaming mild on the soft parting hour; But the dire feeling, O farewell for ever,

Is anguish unmingl'd and agony pure.

gone;

Wild as the winter now tearing the forest,
Till the last leaf o' the summer is flown,
Such is the tempest has shaken my bosom,
Since my last hope and last comfort is
Still as I hail thee, thou gloomy December,
Still shall I hail thee wi' sorrow and care;
For sad was the parting thou makes me remember,
Parting wi' Nancy, Oh! ne'er to meet me mair,

WILT THOU BE MY DEARIE,

WILT thou be my dearie ;

When sorrow wrings thy gentle heart, O wilt thou let me cheer me;

By the treasure of my soul,

And 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 wilt na be my ain,

Say na thou'lt 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.

SHE'S