POEMS OF LADY NAIRNE.

[BARONESS CAROLINA Oliphant NAIRNE, song writer, was born in Perthshire, Scotland, August 16, 1766, and died there October 27, 1845. Her life was spent in Scotland, Ireland, and on the Continent. Her eighty-seven songs were written for the Scottish Minstrel (1821-1824), under the pen name B. B., or Mrs. Bogan of Bogan, and were posthumously published as "Lays from Strathearn." Many of them are exquisite in form and sentiment, the most familiar being "Land o' the Leal," ," "Caller Herrin'," and "The Laird o' Cockpen."]

THE LASS Oo' GOWRIE.

"TWAS on a simmer's afternoon,
A wee afore the sun gaed doun,
A lassie wi' a braw new goun

Cam' owre the hills to Gowrie.
The rosebud washed in simmer's shower
Bloomed fresh within the sunny bower;
But Kitty was the fairest flower

That e'er was seen in Gowrie.

To see her cousin she cam' there,
An' oh! the scene was passing fair;
For what in Scotland can compare
Wi' the Carse o' Gowrie ?
The sun was setting on the Tay,
The blue hills melting into gray,
The mavis and the blackbird's lay
Were sweetly heard in Gowrie.

O lang the lassie I had wooed,
An' truth and constancy had vowed,
But couldna speed wi' her I lo'ed,
Until she saw fair Gowrie.

I pointed to my faither's ha',

Yon bonnie bield' ayont the shaw,

Sae loun that there nae blast could blaw,
Wad she no bide in Gowrie ?

Her faither was baith glad and wae;

Her mither she wad naething say;

The bairnies thocht they wad get play,

If Kitty gaed to Gowrie.

She whiles did smile, she whiles did greet,
The blush and tear were on her cheek

She naething said, an' hung her head;
But now she's Leddy Gowrie.

TAMMY.

I wish I kenned my Maggie's mind,
If she's for me or Tammy;

To me she is but passing kind,

She's caulder still to Tammy.
And yet she lo'es me no that ill,
If I believe her granny;

O sure she must be wond'rous nice,

If she'll no hae me or Tammy.

I've spiered her ance, I've spiered her twice,
And still she says she canna;

I'll try her again, and that mak's thrice,
And thrice, they say, is canny.

Wi' him she'll hae a chaise and pair,

Wi' me she'll hae shanks naggie;
He's auld and black, I'm young and fair,
She'll surely ne'er tak' Tammy.

But if she's a fule, and slightlies me,
I'se e'en draw up wi' Nancy;

There's as gude fish into the sea

As e'er cam' out, I fancy.

And though I say't that shou'dna say't,
I'm owre gude a match for Maggie;
Sae mak' up your mind without delay,
Are you for me, or Tammy?

THE LAND O' THE LEAL.

I'm wearin' awa', John,

Like snaw-wreaths in thaw, John,
I'm wearin' awa'

To the land o' the leal.

There's nae sorrow there, John,
There's neither cauld nor care, John,
The day is aye fair

In the land o' the leal.

Our bonnie bairn's there, John,
She was baith gude and fair, John;

And oh! we grudged her sair

To the land o' the leal.

But sorrow's sel' wears past, John,
And joy's a-comin' fast, John,

The joy that's aye to last

In the land o' the leal.

Sae dear that joy was bought, John,
Sae free the battle fought, John,
That sinfu' man e'er brought
To the land o' the leal.

Oh! dry your glistening ee, John,
My soul langs to be free, John,
And angels beckon me

To the land o' the leal.

Oh! haud ye leal and true, John,
Your day it's wearin' through, John,
And I'll welcome you

To the land o' the leal.

Now fare-ye-weel, my ain John,
This warld's cares are vain, John,
We'll meet, and we'll be fain

In the land o' the leal.

CALLER HERRIN'.

Wha'll buy my caller [fresh] herrin'? They're bonnie fish and halesome farin': Wha'll buy my caller herrin',

New drawn frae the Forth?

When ye were sleepin' on your pillows,
Dreamed ye aught o' our poor fellows,
Darklin' as they faced the billows,
A' to fill the woven willows?

Buy my caller herrin',

New drawn frae the Forth.

Wha'll buy my caller herrin'?

They're no brought here without brave darin'.
Buy my caller herrin',
Hauled through wind and rain.

Wha'll buy my caller herrin',
New drawn frae the Forth?

Wha'll buy my caller herrin'?
Oh, ye may ca' them vulgar farin':
Wives and mithers maist despairin'
Ca' them lives of men.

Wha'll buy my caller herrin',
New drawn frae the Forth?

Neebor wives, now tent' my tellin':
When the bonny fish ye're sellin',
At ae word be3 in your dealin', ·
Truth will stand when a' things's fallin'.

Wha'll buy my caller herrin'?
They're bonny fish and halesome farin':
Wha'll buy my caller herrin',
New drawn frae the Forth?

THE HUNDRED PIPERS.

Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a',
Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a',
We'll up an' gie them a blaw, a blaw,
Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a',
Oh! it's owre the Border awa', awa',
It's owre the Border awa', awa',
We'll on an' we'll march to Carlisle ha',
Wi' its yetts, its castell, an' a', an' a'.

Oh! our sodger lads looked braw, looked braw,

Wi' their tartans, kilts, an' a', an' a',

Wi' their bonnets, an' feathers, an' glitterin' gear,

An' pibrochs soundin' sweet an' clear.

Will they a' return to their ain dear glen?
Will they a' return, our Hieland men?
Second-sighted Sandy looked fu' wae,

And mothers grat' when they marched away,
Wi' a hundred pipers, an' a', an' a', etc.

1 Gold.

2 Heed.

8 Keep to one statement.

4 Gates.

6 Wept.

Oh, wha is foremost o' a', o' a'?

Oh, wha does follow the blaw, the blaw?
Bonnie Charlie, the King o' us a', hurrah!
Wi' his hundred pipers an' a', an' a',
His bonnet and feather he's wavin' high,
His prancin' steed maist seems to fly,
The nor' wind plays wi' his curly hair,
While the pipers blaw in an unco flare,

Wi' a hundred pipers, an' a', an' a', etc.

The Esk was swollen, sae red and sae deep,
But shouther to shouther the brave lads keep;
Twa thousand swam owre to free English ground,
An' danced themselves dry to the pibroch's sound.
Dumfoundered, the English saw they saw
Dumfoundered, they heard the blaw, the blaw;
Dumfoundered, they a' ran awa, awa,

From the hundred pipers an' a', an' a'.- Chorus.