L 13. SALLY IN OUR ALLEY. Of all the girls that are so smart There's none like pretty Sally; Her father he makes cabbage-nets, To such as please to buy 'em; But sure such folks could ne'er beget She is the darling of my heart, When she is by I leave my work, For she's the darling of my heart, Of all the days that's in the week And that's the day that comes betwixt For then I'm drest all in my best My master carries me to church, Because I leave him in the lurch I leave the church in sermon-time, She is the darling of my heart, When Christmas comes about again, Oh, would it were ten thousand pound! I'd give it all to Sally; For she's the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley. My master and the neighbors all Make game of me and Sally, And but for her I'd better be A slave, and row a galley; But when my seven long years are out, Oh then we'll wed, and then we'll bed- - HARRY CAREY. 14. AULD ROBIN GRAY. WHEN the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at hame, The waes o' my heart fa' in showers frae my e'e, Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and sought me for his bride; But saving a croun he had naething else beside: To make the croun a pund, young Jamie gaed to sea; And the croun` and the pund were baith for me. He hadna been awa' a week but only twa, When my father brak his arm, and the cow was stown awa'; My mother she fell sick, and my Jamie at the sea- My father couldna work, and my mother couldna spin; My heart it said nay; I looked for Jamie back; But the wind it blew high, and the ship it was a wrack; My father urgit sair: my mother didna speak; But she looked in my face till my heart was like to break: They gi'ed him my hand, but my heart was at the sea; Sae auld Robin Gray he was gudeman to me. I hadna been a wife a week but only four, When mournfu' as I sat on the stane at the door, Oh sair, sair did we greet, and muckle did we say; I gang like a ghaist, and I carena to spin; LADY ANNE BARNARD. 15. JEANIE MORRISON. I've wandered east, I've wandered west, But never, never can forget The love o' life's young day! The fire that's blawn on Beltane e'en Oh dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, They blind my een wi' saut, saut tears, And sair and sick I pine, 'Twas then we luvit ilk ither weel, 'Twas than we twa did part; Sweet time, sad time! twa bairns at schule, Twa bairns, and but ae heart! 'Twas then we sat on ae high bink, To leir ilk ither lear: And tones, and looks, and smiles were shed, Remembered ever mair. I wonder, Jeanie, often yet When sitting on that bink, Cheek touchin' cheek, loof locked in loof, When baith bent doun ower ae braid page, Thy lips were on thy lesson, but Oh mind ye how we hung our heads, We cleeked thegither hame? And mind ye o' the Saturdays (The schule then skail't at noon) When we ran aft to speel the braes The broomy braes o' June? |