Soon our bonnie heather braes
Will put on their summer claes;
On the mountain's sunnie-side,
We'll lean us on my Highland plaid.
When the summer spreads the flow'rs,
Busks the glens in leafy bow'rs,
Then we'll seek the caller shade,
Lean us on the primrose bed;
While the burning hours preside,
I'll screen thee wi' my Highland plaid.
Then we'll leave the sheep and goat,
I will launch the bonnie boat,
Skim the loch in cantie glee,
Rest the oars to pleasure thee;
When chilly breezes sweep the tide,
I'll hap thee wi' my Highland plaid.
Lowland lads may dress mair fine,
Woo in words mair saft than mine;
Lowland lads hae mair of art,
A' my boast's an honest heart,
Whilk shall ever be my pride,
O row thee in my Highland plaid!
Bonnie lad, ye've been sae leal,
My heart would break at our fareweel;
Lang your love has made me fain,
Take me-take me for your ain!
'Cross the Frith, away they glide,
Young Donald and his Lowland bride.
THE DEATH OF AULD ROBIN GRAY. THE Summer it was smiling, all Nature round was gay, When Jenny was attending on auld Robin Gray,
For he was sick at heart, and had nae friend beside,
But only me, poor Jenny, who newly was his bride.
Ah! Jenny, I shall die, he cried, as sure as I had birth,
Then see my poor old bones, I pray, laid into the earth,
And be a widow for my sake a twelve-month and a day,
And I will leave what e'er belongs to auld Robin Gray.
I laid poor Robin in the earth as decent as I could,
And shed a tear upon his grave, for he was very good;
I took my rock all in my hand, and in my coat I sigh'd,
Oh wae is me what shall I do, since poor old Robin died.
Search ev'ry part throughout the land, there's none like
me forlorn;
I'm ready e'en to ban the day that ever I was born; For Jamie, all I lov'd on earth, ah! he is gone away; My father dead, my mother dead, and eke auld Robin Gray.
I rose up with the morning sun, and spun
And one whole year of widowhood I mourned for Robin Gray;
I did the duty of a wife, both kind and constant too:
Let ev'ry one example take, and Jenny's plan pursue.
I thought that Jamie he was dead, or he to me was lost,
And all my fond and youthful love entirely was crost.
I tried to sing, I tried to laugh, and pass the time away,
For I had ne'er a friend alive since died auld Robin
Gray.
At length the merry bells ran round, I coudna guess the
But Rodney was the man, they said, who gain'd so much applause;
I doubted if the tale was true, till Jamie came to me, And showed a purse of golden ore, and said it is for thee. Auld Robin Gray I find is dead, and still your heart is true,
Then take me, Jenny, to your arms, and I will be so too;
Mess John shall join us at the kirk, and we'll be blythe and gay;
I blush'd, consented, and replied, adieu to Robin Gray.
TUNE-" Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon."
DRAW near ye warblers wild, in woe
Convene and aid my mournfu' strain:
Thou wimpling stream in silence flow,
While by thy margin I complain.
Ye gaudy flow'rs by Nature blown,
Ye emblems o' the Summer braw,
O hang your heads while I bemoan
My true-love Sandy, far awa.
Alas! frae Scotia's peacefu' shore,
Where blooming first he caught my ee-
Beyond the broad Atlantic's roar,
He roams unknown, afar frae me.
For him wi' grief my bosom's torn!
For him my tears unnumber'd fa!-
In pensive woe, anon I mourn
My true-love Sandy, far awa.
When, in the midnight silent hours,
Bright Fancy's dreams around me rove,
Conducting me to Indian bow'rs,
Or clasping him in some wild grove,
O how with rapture him I hail!
In bliss the sigh of love I draw!
But soon, ah! soon, I wake to wail
My true love Sandy, far awa!
O Sandy, like a fading flower
My weary days draw near a close;
A victim soon of love's strong power,
I'll veil my eyes in death's repose.
But tho' afar frae thee I die,
Obedient to the heavenly ca',
Thou'lt claim my last sad heaving sigh,
My true-love Sandy, far awa! *
IN THE GARB OF OLD GAUL.
TUNE-" The Highland March."
In the garb of old Gaul, with the fire of old Rome, From the heath cover'd mountains of Scotia we come; Where the Romans endeavour'd our country to gain, But our ancestors fought, and they fought not in vain.
Such our love of liberty, our country, and our laws, That, like our ancestors of old, we'll stand by freedom's
We'll bravely fight, like heroes bold, for honour and applause,
And defy the French, with all their art, to alter our laws.
No effeminate customs our sinews unbrace;
No luxurious tables enervate our race;
Our loud sounding pipe breathes the true martial strain, So do we the old Scottish valour retain.
We're tall as the oak on the mount of the vale,
As swift as the roe which the hound doth assail;
As the full moon in autumn our shields do appear;
Minerva would dread to encounter our spear.
* By the author of The Banks of Glaizart.
As a storm in the ocean, when Boreas blows,
So are we enrag'd when we rush on our foes;
We sons of the mountains, tremendous as rocks,
Dash the force of our foes with our thundering strokes.
Such our love, &c.
Quebec and Cape Breton, the pride of old France,
In their troops fondly boasted till we did advance;
But when our claymores they saw us produce,
Their courage did fail, and they sued for a truce.
Such our love, &c.
In our realm may the faction of fury long cease,
May our councils be wise and our commerce increase,
And in Scotia's cold climate may each of us find,
That our friends still prove true, and our beauties prove
kind.
Then we'll defend our liberty, our country, and our laws,
And bring up our posterity to fight in freedom's cause;
That they, like our ancestors bold, for honour and ap-
plause,
May defy the French, with all their art, to alter our laws.
CAULD KAIL IN ABERDEEN.
THERE'S cauld kail in Aberdeen,
And bannocks in Strathbogie;
But naething drives awa the spleen
Sae weel's a social coggie.
That mortal's life nae pleasure shares,
Wha broods o'er a' that's foggie;
Whane'er I'm fash'd wi' warldly cares,
I drown them in a coggie.
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