LADIE MARY ANN.

O LADY MARY ANN looks o'er the castle wa', She saw three bonnie boys playing at the ba', The youngest ne was the flower amang them a'; My bonnie laddie's young, but he's growin' yet.

“O father, O father, an' ye think it fit,
We'll send him a year to the college yet;
We'll sew a green ribbon round about his hat,
And that will let them ken he's to marry yet."

Lady Mary Ann was a flower in the dew,
Sweet was its smell, and bonnie was its hue,
And the langer it blossomed, the sweeter it grew;
For the lily in the bud will be bonnier yet.

Young Charlie Cochran was the sprout of an

aik,

Bonnie, and blooming, and straight was its make, The sun took delight to shine for its sake,

And it will be the brag o' the forest yet.

The simmer is gane, when the leaves they were

green;

And the days are awa that we hae seen ;

But far better days, I trust, will come again,

The English blades got broken heads,

Their crowns were cleav'd in twa then. The durk and door made their last hour,

And prov'd their final fa, man; They thought the devil had been there, That play'd them sic a paw then.

The solemn league and covenant

Came whigging up the hills, man,
Thought highland trews durst not refuse
For to subscribe their bills then :
In Willie's name they thought nae ane
Durst stop their course at a', man;
But hur nane sell, wi' mony a knock,
Cry'd, Furich-whiggs, awa', man.

Sir Evan Du, and his men true,

Came linking up the brink, man;
The Hogan Dutch they feared such,
They bred a horrid stink, then.
The true Maclean, and his fierce men,
Came in amang them a', man;
Nane durst withstand his heavy hand,
All fled and ran awa' then.

Oh' on a ri, oh' on a ri,

Why should she lose king Shames, man? Oh' rig in di, oh' rig in di,

She shall break a' her banes then ;

in' yet.

KILLYCRANKY.

THE battle of Killycranky was the last stand made by the Clans for James, after his abdication. Here Dundee fell in the moment of vic

tory, and with him fell the hopes of the party. -General Mackay, when he found the Highlanders did not pursue his flying army, said, "Dundee must be killed, or he never would have overlooked this advantage."-A great stone marks the spot where Dundee fell.-BURNS.

CLAVERS and his highland-men,

Came down upo' the raw, man,
Who being stout, gave mony a clout,
The lads began to claw, then.
With sword and terge into their hand,
Wi' which they were nae slaw, man,
Wi' mony a fearful heavy sigh,

The lads began to claw, then.

O'er bush, o'er bank, o'er ditch, o'er stank,
She flang amang them a', man;
The butter-box got mony knocks,
Their riggings paid for a' then;
They got their paiks, wi' sudden straiks,
Which to their grief they saw, man;
Wi' elinkum clankum o'er their crowns,
The lads began to fa' then.

Hur skipt about, hur leapt about,
And flang amang them a', man;

And speak a word or twa, man, She's gi' a straike, out o'er the neck, Before ye win awa' then.

O fy for shame, ye're three for ane,

Hur nane-sell's won the day, man; King Shame's red-coats should be hung up, Because they ran awa' then : Had bent their brows, like highland trows, And made as lang a stay, man, They'd sav'd their king, that sacred thing, And Willie'd run' awa' then.

THE EWIE WI' THE CROOKIT HORN ANOTHER excellent song of old Skinner's.BURNS.

Her crookit horn did as weel

To ken her by amo' them a'; She never threaten'd scab nor rot, But keepit ay her ain jog trot, Baith to the fauld and to the coat,

Was never sweir to lead nor caw, Baith to the fauld and to the coat, &c.

Cauld nor hunger never dang her, Wind nor wet could never wrang her, Anes she lay an ouk and langer,

Furth aneath a wreath o' snaw: Whan ither Ewies lap the dyke, And eat the kail for a' the tyke, My Ewie never play'd the like,

But tyc'd about the barn wa'; My Ewie never play'd the like, &c.

A better or a thriftier beast,
Nae honest man could weel hae wist,
For silly thing she never mist,

To hae ilk year a lamb or twa';
The first she had I gae to Jock,
To be to him a kind o' stock,
And now the laddie has a flock

O' mair nor thirty head ava'; And now the laddie has a flock, &c.

I lookit aye at even' for her,
Lest mischanter shou'd come o'er her,
Or the fowmart might devour her,
Gin the beastie bade awa;
My Ewie wi' the crookit horn,
Well deserv'd baith girse and corn,
Sic a Ewe was never born,

Here-about nor far awa.
Sic a Ewe was never born, &c.

Yet last ouk, for a' my keeping,
(Wha can speak it without weeping?)
A villain cam when I was sleeping,
Sta' my Ewie, horn and a';
I sought her sair upo' the morn,
And down aneath a buss o' thorn
I got my Ewie's crookit horn,

But my Ewie was awa'.

I got my Ewie's crookit horn, &c.

O! gin I had the loun that did it,
Sworn I have as well as said it,
Tho' a' the warld should forbid it,
I wad gie his neck a thra':
I never met wi' sie a turn,
As this sin ever I was born,
My Ewie wi' the crookit horn,

Silly Ewie stown awa'.
My Ewie wi' the crookit horn, &c.

O! had she died o' crook or cauld, As Ewies do when they grow auld, It wad nae been, by mony fauld,

Sae sare a heart to nane o's a' : For a' the claith that we hae worn, Frae her and her's sae aften shorn,