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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.


TUNE-"Katherine Ogie"

YE banks, and braes, and streams around The castle o' Montgomery!

Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,

Your waters never drumly:

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 clasp'd 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 oursels asunder;

But oh! fell death's untimely frost,
That nipt my flower sae early!

Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay,
That wraps my Highland Mary.

O 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 mould'ring now in silent dust,
That heart that lo'ed me dearly'
But still within my bosom's core
Shall live my Highland Mary.

TUNE-"Miss Forbes' farewell to Banff"

THOU lingering star, with less'ning ray,
Thou lov'st to greet the early morn,
Again thou usher'st in the day

My Mary from my soul was torn.
O Mary dear departed shade!

Where is thy place of blissful rest? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid?

Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?

That sacred hour can I forget?

Can I forget the hallow'd grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met,

To live one day of parting love? Eternity will not efface

Those records dear of transports past; Thy image at our last embrace;

Ah! little thought we 'twas our last! Ayr gurgling kiss'd his pebbled shore,

O'erhung with wild woods, thick'ning green; The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Twin'd am'rous round the raptur'd scene. The flowers sprang wanton to be prest,

The birds sang love on ev'ry spray,
Till too, too soon, the glowing west

Proclaim'd the speed of wingèd day.
Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes,
And fondly broods with miser care!
Time but the impression deeper makes,

As streams their channels deeper wear.
My Mary, dear departed shade!

Where is thy place of blissful rest?
Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ?

Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?


DWELLER in yon dungeon dark,
Hangman of creation! mark,
Who in widow-weeds appears,
Laden with unhonor'd years,
Noosing with care a bursting purse,
Baited with many a deadly curse?


View the wither'd beldam's face.
Can thy keen inspection trace

Aught of humanity's sweet melting grace?
Note that eye, 'tis rheum o'erflows,
Pity's flood there never rose.

See those hands, ne'er stretch'd to save,
Hands that took · but never gave.

Keeper of Mammon's iron chest,

Lo, there she goes, unpitied and unblest

She goes, but not to realms of everlasting rest!


Plunderer of armies, lift thine eyes,

(A while forbear, ye tort'ring fiends,)

Seest thou whose step unwilling hither bends?
No fallen angel, hurl'd from upper skies;
'Tis thy trusty quondam mate,
Doom'd to share thy fiery fate,
She, tardy, hell-ward plies.


And are they of no more avail,
Ten thousand glitt'ring pounds a year?
In other worlds can Mammon fail,
Omnipotent as he is here?

O, bitter mock'ry of the pompous bier,

While down the wretched vital part is driv'n!

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