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In ploughman phrase," God send you speed,"

Still daily to grow wiser:
And may you better reck the rede

Than ever did th' adviser.


WHEN O'er the hill the eastern star,

Tells bughtin-time is near, my jo ;
And owsen frae the furrow'd field,

Return sae dowf and weary 0;
Down by the burn, where scented birks,

Wi’ dew are hanging clear, my jo,
I'll meet thee on the lea-rig,

My ain kind dearie 0.

In mirkest glen, at midnight hour,

I'd rove and ne'er be eerie 0,
If through that glen, I gaed to thee,

My ain kind dearie 0.
Although the night were ne'er sae wild,

And I were ne'er sae weary 0,
I'd meet thee on the lea-rig,

My ain kind dearie 0.

The hunter lo’es the morning sun,

To rouse the mountain deer, my jo, At noon the fisher seeks the glen,

Along the burn to steer, my jo ; Gie me the hour o'gloamin gray,

It maks my heart sae cheery 0, To meet thee on the lea-rig,

My ain kind dearie 0.


Ye banks, and braes, and streams around

The castle o' Montgomery,
Green be your woods and fair your flowers,

Your waters never drumlie!
There simmer first unfauld her robes,

And there the langest tarry ;
For there I took the last fareweel

O’ my sweet Highland Mary.

How sweetly bloom’d the gay green birk,

How rich the hawthorn's blossom; As underneath their fragrant shade

I clasped her to my bosom! The golden hours on angel wings

Flew o'er me and my dearie; For dear to me as light and life

Was my sweet Highland Mary. Wi' mony a vow and lock'd embrace,

Our parting was fu' tender;
And, pledging aft to meet again,

We tore ourselves asunder;
But, oh! fell death's untimely frost,

That nipp'd my flower sae early!
Now green's the sod and cauld's the clay

That wraps my Highland Mary!
Oh pale, pale now those rosy lips

I'aft hae kiss'd sae fondly!
And closed for aye the sparkling glance

That dwelt on me sae kindly!
And mouldering now in silent dust

That heart that loved me dearly! But still within my bosom's core

Shall live my Highland Mary..

SONG. Oh Logan, sweetly didst thou glide, That day I was my Willie's bride; And years sinsyne has o'er us run, Like Logan to the simmer sun. But now thy flowery banks appear Like drumlie winter, dark and drear, While my dear lad maun face his faes, Far, far frae me and Logan braes. Again the merry month o' May Has made our hills and valleys gay ; The birds rejoice in leafy bowers, The bees hum round the breathing flowers : Blithe morning lifts his rosy eye, And evening's tears are tears of joy: My soul, delightless, a' surveys, While Willie's far frae Logan braes. Within yon milkwhite hawthorn bush, Amang her nestlings sits the thrush; Her faithfu' mate will share her toil, Or wi' his song her cares beguile; But I, wi' my sweet nurslings here, Nae mate to help, nae mate to cheer, Pass widow'd nights and joyless days, While Willie's far frae Logan braes.

Oh wae upon you, men o' state,
That brethren rouse to deadly hate!
As ye make mony a fond heart mour,
Sae may it on your heads return!
How can your flinty hearts enjoy
The widow's tears, the orphan's cry?
But soon may peace bring happy days,
And Willie hame to Logan braes !



SHOULD auld acquaintance be forgot,

And never brought to min??
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days o' lang syne ?
For auld lang syne, my dear,

For auld lang
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,

For auld lang syne.
We twa hae ran about the braes,

And pu't the gowans fine ;
But we've wanderd mony a weary foot
Sin auld lang syne.

For auld, &c.

We twa hae paidl’t i' the burn,

Frae mornin sun till dine :
But seas between us braid hae roar'd
Sin auld lang syne.

For auld, &c.

And here's a hand, my trusty fier,

And gie's a hand o' thine ;
And we'll tak a right guid willie waught,
For auld lang syne.

For auld, &c.
And surely ye'll be your pint-stoup,

And surely I'll be mine;
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

For auld, &c.
Vol. II.-K


Scots wha hae wi’ Wallace bled,
Scots wham Bruce has aften led,
Welcome to your gory bed,

Or to victory.
Now's the day, and now's the hour;
See the front o' battle lower;
See approach proud Edward's power-

Chains and slavery!

Wha will be a traitor knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a slave ?

Let him turn and flee!

Wha for Scotland's king and law
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Freeman stand, or freeman fa,'

Let him on wi' me!

By oppression's woes and pains !
By your sons in servile chains !
We will drain our dearest veins,

But they shall be free!
Lay the proud usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty's in every blow !

Let us do or die!


HERE's a health to ane I love dear,
Here's a health to ane I love dear,
Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet,
And soft as their parting tear--Jessy!

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