YE BANKS AND BRAES O' BONIE

DOON.

Air. THE CALEDONIAN HUNT'S DELIGHT,— COMPOSED BY MR. JAMES MILLER, EDINBURGH.

E banks and braes o' bonie Doon,

YE

How can ye

bloom fae fresh and fair ;

How can ye chant, ye little birds,

And I fae weary fu' of care!

Thou'lt break my heart, thou warbling bird, That wantons thro' the flowery thorn: Thou mind'ft me of departed joys,

Departed, never to return.

Oft have I rov'd by bonie Doon,

To fee the rofe and woodbine twine;

And ilka bird fang o' its love,

And fondly fae did I o' mine.

Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,

Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree; And faufe lover ftaw my rose,

my

But ah! he left the thorn wi' me.

FATE GAVE THE WORD, THE

ARROW SPED.

A MOTHER'S LAMENT FOR THE DEATH
OF HER SON.

Air.--FINLAYSTON HOUSE, BY J. RIDDEL, AYR.

ATE gave the word, the arrow fped,

F

And pierc'd my darling's heart:

And with him all the joys are fled,
Life can to me impart.

By cruel hands the fapling drops,

In duft dishonor'd laid :
So fell the pride of all my hopes,
My age's future shade.

The mother linnet in the brake

Bewails her ravish'd young;
So I, for my loft darling's fake,
Lament the live-day long.

Death, oft I've fear'd thy fatal blow,
Now, fond, I bare my breast,

O, do thou kindly lay me low
With him I love at reft.

And fair are the maids on the banks of the

Ayr;

But by the sweet fide of the Nith's winding

river,

Are lovers as faithful, and maidens as fair. To equal young JESSIE, feek Scotland all over;

To equal young JESSIE, you feek it in vain : Grace, beauty, and elegance, fetter her lover, And maidenly modefty fixes the chain.

Oh fresh is the rofe in the gay dewy morning,
And sweet is the lily at evening close;
But in the fair presence of lovely young JESSIE,
Unfeen is the lily, unheeded the rose.

Love fits in her fmile, a wizard enfnaring;

Enthron'd in her eyes he delivers his law And still to her charms SHE alone is a stranger! Her modeft demeanor's the jewel of a'.

AN

DUNCAN GRAY CAM' HERE TO

WOO.

Air.-DUNCAN GRAY.

D

UNCAN GRAY cam' here to woo,

Ha, ha, the wooing o't;

On new-year's night, when we were fou,

Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

MAGGIE COOft her head fu' heigh,

Look'd afklent and unco fkeigh,

Gart poor Duncan stand abiegh;

Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

Duncan fleech'd, and Duncan pray'd,

Ha, ha, the wooing o't;

Meg was deaf as AILSA Craig *
Ha, ha, the wooing o't.
Duncan figh'd, baith out and in,

Grat his een baith bleer't and blin',
Spak o' louping o'er a linn;

Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

Time and chance are but a tide,

Ha, ha, the wooing o't

;

Slighted love is fair to bide,

Ha, ha, the wooing o't. Shall I like a fool, quoth he, For a haughty hizzie die?

She may gae to-France for me!

Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

How it comes, let Doctors tell,

Ha, ha, the wooing o't;
Meg grew fick,—as he grew heal,

Ha, ha, the wooing o't.
Something in her bofom wrings,

For relief a figh fhe brings;

And oh! her een they spak fic things!

Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

* A great infulated rock to the fouth of the island of Arran.