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SONG.

NOW BANK AN' BRAE ARE CLAITH'D IN GREEN,

Now bank an' brae are claith'd in green
An' scatter'd cowslips sweetly spring,
By Girvan's fairy haunted stream
The birdies flit on wanton wing.
To Cassillis' banks when e'ening fa's,
There wi' my Mary let me flee,
There catch her ilka glance of love,
The bonie blink o' Mary's e'e!

The child wha boasts o' warld's walth,
Is aften laird o' meikle care;
But Mary she is a' my ain,

Ab, fortune canna gie me mair!
Then let me range by Cassillis' banks,
Wi' her the lassie dear to me,
And catch her ilka glance o' love,
The bonie blink o' Mary's e'e!

THE BONIE LAD THAT'S FAR AWA

O How can I be blithe and glad,

Or how can I gang brisk and braw, When the bonie lad that I lo❜e best, Is o'er the hills and far awa?

It's no the frosty winter wind,
It's no the driving drift and snaw;

But ay the tear comes in my e'e,
To think on him that's far awa.

My father pat me frae his door,

My friends they hae disown'd me a',
But I hae ane will tak my part,
The bonie lad that's far awa.

A pair o' gloves he gave to me,
And silken snoods he gave me twa;
And I will wear them for his sake,
The bonie lad that's far awa.

The weary winter soon will pass,
And spring will cleed the birken-shaw;
And my sweet babie will be born,

And he'll come hame that's far awa.

SONG.

Our over the Forth I look to the north,
But what is the north and its Highlands to me?
The south nor the east gie ease to my breast,
The far foreign land, or the wild rolling sea.

But I look to the west, when I gae to rest,
That happy my dreams and my slumbers may be ;
For far in the west lives he I lo❜e best,

The lad that is dear to my babie and me.

Ribands for binding the hair.

VOL. XXXIX.

N

I'LL AY CA' IN BY YON TOWN.

I'LL ay ca' in by yon town,

And by yon garden green, again;

I'll ay ca' in by yon town,

And see my bonie Jean again.

There's nane sall ken, there's nane sall guess, What brings me back the gate again,

But she, my fairest faithfu' lass,

And stownlins* we sall meet again.

She'll wander by the aiken tree,
When trystin-time† draws near again;
And when her lovely form I see,
O haith, she's doubly dear again!

WHISTLE O'ER THE LAVE O'T.

FIRST when Maggy was my care,
Heaven, I thought, was in her air;
Now we're married-spier nae mair-
Whistle o'er the lave o't.-

Meg was meek, and Meg was mild,
Bonie Meg was nature's child-
-Wiser men than me's beguil'd;
Whistle o'er the lave o't.

* Stownlins-By stealth.

†Trystin-time-The time of appointment.

How we live, my Meg and me,
How we love and how we 'gree,
I care na by how few may see;

Whistle o'er the lave o't-
Wha I wish were maggot's meat,
Dish'd up in her winding sheet,
I could write-but Meg maun see't-
Whistle o'er the lave o't.-

YOUNG JOCKEY.

YOUNG Jockey was the blithest lad
In a' our town or here awa;
Fu' blithe he whistled at the gaud,*
Fu' lightly danc'd he in the ha'!
He roos'd my e'en sae bonie blue,
He roos'd my waist sae gently sma';
An' ay my heart came to my mou,
When ne'er a body heard or saw.

My Jockey toils upon the plain,

Thro' wind and weet, thro' frost and snaw; And o'er the lee I leuk fu' fain

When Jockey's owsen hameward ca',

An' ay the night comes round again,
When in his arms he takes me a';

An' ay he vows he'll be my ain
As long's he has a breath to draw.

The Gaud-At the Plough.

M'PHERSON'S FAREWELL.

FAREWELL, ye dungeons dark and strong,
The wretch's destinie!
McPherson's time will not be long

On yonder gallows tree.

Sae rantingly, sae wantonly,
Sae dauntingly gaed he;

He play'd a spring and danc'd it round,
Below the gallows tree.

Oh, what is death, but parting breath ?— On mony a bloody plain

I've dar'd his face, and in this place

I scorn him yet again!

Sae rantingly, &c.

Untie these bands from off my hands,
And bring to me my sword;
And there's no a man in a' Scotland,
But I'll brave him at a word.
Sae rantingly, &c.

I've liv'd a life of sturt and strife;

I die by treacherie :

It burns my heart I must depart

And not avenged be.

Sae rantingly, &c.

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