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Thou strik'st the young hero-a glorious mark!

He falls in the blaze of his fame!

In the field of proud honour-our swords in our hands,
Our king and our country to save-

While victory shines on life's last ebbing sands,
Oh! who would not die with the brave?

SONG.

TUNE-Rory Dall's Port.

AE fond kiss, and then we sever!
Ae fareweel, and then for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.

Who shall say that Fortune grieves him,
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerful twinkle lights me;
Dark despair around benights me.
I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy,
Naething could resist my Nancy:
But to see her was to love her;
Love but her, and love for ever.
Had we never loved sae kindly,
Had we never loved sae blindly!
Never met-or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken-hearted.*
Fare-thee-weel, thou first and fairest !
Fare-thee-weel, thou best and dearest!
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Peace, Enjoyment, Love, and Pleasure!
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!
Ae fareweel, alas! for ever!

Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,

Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.

one

no

every

SONG.

To a charming plaintive Scots Air.

ANCE mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December!
Ance mair I hail thee wi' sorrow and care:
Sad was the parting thou mak'st me remember,
Parting wi' Nancy, oh, ne'er to meet mair!
Fond lover's parting is sweet, painful pleasure,
Hope beaming mild on the soft parting hour;
But the dire feeling, oh, farewell for ever!

Anguish unmingled and agony pure!

once more

Wild as the winter now tearing the forest,
Till the last leaf o' the summer is flown,
Such is the tempest has shaken my bosom,
Since my last hope and last comfort is gone!
Still as I hail thee, thou gloomy December,
Still shall I hail thee wi' sorrow and care;
For sad was the parting thou mak'st me remember,
Parting wi' Nancy, oh, ne'er to meet mair!

O MAY, THY MORN.

O MAY, thy morn was ne'er so sweet,
As the mirk night o' December,
For sparkling was the rosy wine,
And secret was the chamber;
And dear was she I darena name,
But I will aye remember:
And dear was she I darena name,
But I will aye remember.

And here's to them that like oursel'

Can push about the jorum;
And here's to them that wish us weel,
May a' that's guid watch o'er them!
And here's to them we darena name,
The dearest o' the quorum:
And here's to them we darena tell,
The dearest o' the quorum.

dark

dare not always

jug of drink

MY NANNIE'S AWA.

Now in her green mantle blithe Nature arrays,
And listens the lambkins that bleat o'er the braes,
While birds warble welcome in ilka green shaw;
But to me it's delightless-my Nannie's awa.

The snawdrap and primrose our woodlands adorn,
And violets bathe in the weet o' the morn;
They pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly they blaw,
They mind me o' Nannie-and Nannie's awa.

Thou laverock that springs frae the dews of the lawn,
The shepherd to warn o' the grey-breaking dawn;
And thou mellow mavis that hails the night fa',
Give over for pity-my Nannie's awa.

Come Autumn, sae pensive, in yellow and gray,
And soothe me with tidings o' Nature's decay:
The dark, dreary winter, and wild driving snaw
Alane can delight me-Now Nannie's awa!

wood away snowdrop dew so, blow

lark, from

thrush

alone

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Thou art a queen, fair Lesley,
Thy subjects we, before thee;
Thou art divine, fair Lesley,

The hearts o' men adore thee.

NAE BODY DARES TO Scaith thee,

Or aught that wad belang thee; They'd look into thy bonnie face,

And say, "I canna wrang thee!"

The powers aboon will tent thee;
Misfortune sha' na steer thee;
Thou'rt like themselves sae lovely,
That ill they'll ne'er let near thee.

Return again, fair Lesley,

Return to Caledonie !

That we may brag, we hae a lass
There's nane again sae bonnie.

harm would belong

cannot, wrong

above, tend shall not stir

SO

boast, have

none

CRAIGIEBURN WOOD.

SWEET fa's the eve on Craigieburn,
And blithe awakes the morrow;
But a' the pride o' Spring's return
Can yield me nocht but sorrow.

I see the flowers and spreading trees,
I hear the wild birds singing;
But what a weary wight can please,
And care his bosom wringing?

Fain, fain would I my griefs impart,
Yet darena for your anger;

But secret love will break my heart
If 1 conceal it langer.

If thou refuse to pity me,

If thou shalt love anither,

When yon green leaves fade frae the tree,
Around my grave they'll wither.

nought

dare not

longer

from

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MEIKLE THINKS MY LOVE.

TUNE-My Tocher's the Jewel.

O MEIKLE thinks my luve o' my beauty,
And meikle thinks my luve o' my kin;
But little thinks my luve I ken brawlie

My tocher's the jewel has charms for him.
It's a' for the apple he'll nourish the tree;

It's a' for the honey he'll cherish the bee;
My laddie's sae meikle in love wi' the siller,
He canna hae luve to spare for me.
Your proffer o' luve's an arle-penny,
My tocher's the bargain ye wad buy;
But an ye be crafty, I am cunnin',

Sae ye wi' anither your fortune maun try.
Ye're like to the timmer o' yon rotten wood,
Ye're like to the bark o' yon rotten tree,
Ye'll slip frae me like a knotless thread,
And ye'll crack your credit wi mae nor me.

much

know well

dower

money cannot, have

earnest-money

would if

80, must timber

from more

WHAT CAN A YOUNG LASSIE?
TUNE-What can a Young Lassie do wi' an Auld Man?

WHAT can a young lassie, what shall a young lassie,

What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man? Bad luck on the penny that tempted my minnie To sell her poor Jenny for siller and lan'!

mother

money

coughs

stupid, blood

He's always compleenin' frae mornin' to e'enin'.
He hoasts and he hirples the weary day lang;
He's doyl't and he's dozin', his bluid it is frozen,
O dreary's the time wi' a crazy auld man!
He hums and he hankers, he frets and he cankers,
I never can please him, do a' that I can;
He's peevish and jealous of a' the young fellows:
O dool on the day I met wi' an auld man!
My auld auntie Katie upon me takes pity,
I'll do my endeavour to follow her plan;
I'll cross him, and wrack him, until I heart-break him,
And then his auld brass will buy me a new pan.

sorrow

rack

HOW CAN I BE BLITHE AND GLAD?

TUNE-The Bonnie Lad that's far awa

O How can I be blithe and glad,
Or how can I gang brisk and braw,
When the bonnie lad that I loe best
Is ower the hills and far awa?

It's no the frosty winter wind,

It's no the driving drift and snaw;
But aye the tear comes in my ee,

To think on him that's far awa.

A pair o' gloves he bought to me,

And silken snoods he gae me twa;
And I will wear them for his sake,
The bonnie lad that's far awa.

go love over, away

eye

band for hair, gave,

[two

I DO CONFESS THOU ART SAE FAIR.

I DO confess thou art sae fair,

I wad been ower the lugs in love,

Had I na found the slightest prayer

That lips could speak thy heart could move.

I do confess thee sweet, but find

Thou art sae thriftless o' thy sweets,

Thy favours are the silly wind,

That kisses ilka thing it meets.

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See yonder rose-bud, rich in dew,
Among its native briers sae coy;
How sune it tines its scent and hue
When poued, and worn a common toy !
Sic fate, ere lang, shall thee betide,
Though thou may gaily bloom awhile;
Yet sune thou shalt be thrown aside

Like ony common weed and vile.

soon, loses

palled

such

any

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