Nae lav'rock sang on hillock green, Hersel in beauties bloom the while, Farewell the braes o' Ballochmyle. O FOR ANE AN' TWENTY, TAM. An' O, for ane an' twenty, Tam! An' I saw ane an' twenty, Tam! THEY snool me sair, and haud me down, An' O, for ane, &c. A gleib o' lan', a claut o' gear, At kith or kid I need na spier, An' O, for ane, &c. They'll hae me wed a wealthy coof, But hear'st thou, laddie, there's my loof, I'm thine at ane an' twenty, Tam! An' Ò, for ane, &c. THEN GUIDWIFE COUNT THE LAWIN. GANE is the day, and mirk's the night, But we'll ne'er stray for faute o' light, Then guidwife count the lawin, the lawin, the lawin, Then guidwife count the lawin, and bring a coggie mair. There's wealth and ease for gentlemen, For ilka man that's drunk's a lord. Then gudewife count, &c. My coggie is a haly pool, That heals the wounds o' care an' dool; An' ye drink it a' ye'll find him out. Then gudewife count, &c. WHAT CAN A YOUNG-LASSIE, &c. WHAT can a young lassie, what shall a young Jassie, What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man ? Bad luck on the pennie that tempted my minnie To sell her poor Jenny for siller an' lan'! Bad luck on the pelnie, &c. He's always compleenin frae morning to e'enin, 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-brak him, And then his auld brass will buy me a new pan. THE BIRKS OF ABERFELDY. Now simmer blinks on flow'ry braes, CHORUS. Bonnie lassie, will ye go, will ye go, will ye go, While o'er their heads the hazels bing, Or lightly flit on wanton wing In the Birks of Aberfeldy. Bonnie lassie, &c. The braes ascend like lofty wa's, The foaming stream deep roaring fa's, Bonny lassie, &c. The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi' flow'rs, Bonnie lassie, &c Let fortune's gifts at random flee, They ne'er shall draw a wish frae me, in the Birks of Aberfeldy. Bonnie lassie, &c. THE BANKS OF THE DEVON. How pleasant the banks of the clear winding Devon, With green spreading bushes, and flow'rs blooming fair, But the bonniest flow'r on the banks of the Devon, Was once a sweet bud on the braes of the Ayr. Mild be the sun on this sweet blushing flow'r, In the gay rosy morn, as it bathes in the dew, And gentle the fall of the soft vernal show'r, That steals on the ev'ning each leaf to renew. O spare the dear blossoms, ye orient breezes, With chill hoary wing, as ye usher the dawn; And far be thou distant, thou reptile that seizes The verdure and pride of the garden and lawn. Let Bourbon exult in her gay gilded lilies, And England, triumphant, display her proud rose ; A fairer than either adorns the green valleys, Where Devon, sweet Devon, meandering flows. THE CHEVALIER'S LAMENT. Tune-Captain O'Kain. THE small birds rejoice in the green leaves returning, The murmuring streamlet runs clear thro' the vale, the primroses blow in the dew of the morning, And wild scatter'd cowslips bedeck the green dale; ut what can give pleasure, or what can seem fair, Then the lingering moments are numbered by care? o birds sweetly singing, nor flow'rs gaily springing, Can sooth the sad bosom of joyless despair. The deed that I dar'd, could it merit their malice, His right are these hills, and his right are these val leys, Where the wild beasts find shelter, but I can find none. But 'tis not my sufferings, thus wretched, forlorn, HEY FOR A LASS WI' A TOCHER. AWA wi' your witchcraft o' beauty's alarms; CHORUS. Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher; then hey for a lass wi' a tocher; Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher; the nice yellow guineas for me. Your beauty's a flow'r, in the morning that blows, But the rapturous charms o' the bonnie green knowes, And e'en when this beauty your bosom has blest, The brightest of beauty may cloy when possest; But the sweet yellow darlings wi' Geordie imprest, The langer ye hae them-the mair they're carest. Then bey, &c. |