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Thine be ilka1 joy and treasure,

Peace, Enjoyment, Love, and Pleasure!
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!

Ae fareweel, alas, forever!

Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.

MY LUVE IS LIKE A RED, RED ROSE

O, MY luve is like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June.
O, my luve is like the melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I,
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun!
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only luve,
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile.

THE BANKS O' DOON

YE banks and braes o' bonie Doon,
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair?

How can ye chant, ye little birds,

And I sae weary fu' o' care!

1 every.

Thou'lt break my heart, thou warbling bird,
That wantons thro' the flowering thorn!
Thou minds me o' departed joys,
Departed—never to return.

Aft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon

To see the rose and woodbine twine,
And ilka bird sang o' its luve,
And fondly sae did I o' mine.
Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree!
And my fause luver staw1 my rose-
But ah! he left the thorn wi' me.

SCOTS, WHA HAE

SCOTS, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led,
Welcome to your gory bed

Or to victorie!

Now's the day, and now's the hour:
See the front o' battle lour,

See approach proud Edward's power-
Chains and slaverie!

Wha will be a traitor knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a slave?
Let him turn, and flee!

Wha for Scotland's King and Law
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Free-man stand or free-man fa'?

Let him follow me!

1 stole.

1 sister.

By Oppression's woes and pains,
By your sons in servile chains,
We will drain our dearest veins
But they shall be free!

Lay the proud usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty's in every blow!
Let us do, or die!

TAM GLEN

My heart is a-breaking, dear tittie',
Some counsel unto me come len',

To anger them a' is a pity;

But what will I do wi' Tam Glen?

I'm thinking, wi' sic a braw fellow
In poortith I might mak a fen'3.
What care I in riches to wallow,

If I maunna marry Tam Glen?

There's Lowrie the laird o' Dumeller,

"Guid-day to you,"-brute! he comes ben1.

He brags and he blaws o' his siller,

But when will he dance like Tam Glen?

My minnie does constantly deave me,
And bids me beware o' young men.
They flatter, she says, to deceive me—
But wha can think sae o' Tam Glen?

My daddie says, gin I'll forsake him,
He'll gie me guid hunder marks ten.
But if it's ordained I maun take him,
O wha will I get but Tam Glen?
into the parlour.

2 poverty.

3 shift.

5 deafen.

Yestreen at the valentine's dealing,
My heart to my mou gied a sten1:
For thrice I drew ane without failing,
And thrice it was written, "Tam Glen!"

The last Halloween I was waukin 2

3

My droukit sark-sleeve, as ye kenHis likeness cam up the house staukin, And the very grey breeks o' Tam Glen!

Come counsel, dear tittie, don't tarry!
I'll gie ye my bonie black hen,
Gif ye will advise me to marry
The lad I lo'e dearly, Tam Glen.

1 leap.

AULD LANG SYNE

SHOULD auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And auld lang syne!

For auld lang syne, my dear,

For auld lang syne,

We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne!

And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp,
And surely I'll be mine,

And we'll tak a cup of kindness yet
For auld lang syne!

We twa hae run about the braes,

4

And pu'd the gowans fine,

But we've wander'd monie a weary fit

Sin' auld lang syne.

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We twa hae paidl'd1 i' the burn
Frae morning sun till dine;

But seas between us braid hae roar'd
Sin' auld lang syne.

And there's a hand, my trusty fiere2,

And gie's a hand o' thine,

And we'll tak a right guid-willie waught,3 For auld lang syne.

For auld, &c.

HIGHLAND MARY

YE banks and braes and streams around

The castle o' Montgomery,

Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, Your waters never drumlie!

There summer first unfald 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' monie a vow, and lock'd embrace,
Our parting was fu' tender;

And, pledging aft to meet again,

We tore oursels asunder.

1 paddled.

2 companion.

' draught.

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