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And ilka bird sang o' its luve,

And fondly sac did I o' mine. Wi’ lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,

Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree ; And my fause luver stole my rose,

But, ah! he left the thorn wi' me.

SIC A WIFE AS WILLIE HAD.

Willie Wastle dwalt on Tweed,

The spot they ca'd it Linkumdoddie; Willie was a wabster gude,

Cou'd stown a clue wi' ony bodie;
He had a wife was dour and din,
0 Tinkler Madgie was her mither ;

Sic a wife as Willie had,
I wad na gie a button for her.

She has an e'e, she has but ane,

The cat has twa the very colour ;
Five rusty teeth forbye a stump,

A clapper tongue wad deave a miller;
A whiskin beard about her mou,
Her nose and chin they threaten ither ;

Sic a wife, &c.

She's bow-hough’d, she's hein-shinn'd,

Ae limpin leg a hand-breed shorter ;
She's twisted right, she's twisted left,

To balance fair in ilka quarter:
She has a hump upon her breast,
The twin o'that upon her shouther;

Sic a wife, &C.

Auld baudrans by the inglc sits,

An' wi' her loof her face a washins. But Willie's wife is nae sae trig;

She dights her grunzie wi' a hushion i

Her walie nieves like midden-creels,
Her face wad fyle the Logan-water ;

Sic a wife as Willie had,
I wad na gie à button for her.

GLOOMY. DECEMBER.

Ånce mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December!

Ance mair I hail thee wi' sorrow and care; Sad was the parting thou makes me remember,

Parting wi' Nancy, Oh! ne'er to meet mair. Fond lovers parting is sweet painful pleasure,

Hope beaming mild on the soft parting hour; But the dire feeling, O farewell for ever,

Is anguish unminglid and agony pure.

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 makes me remember,

Parting wi' Naney, oh, ne'er to meet mair.

WILT THOU BE MY DEÀRIE.

Wilt thou be my dearie ?

When sorrow wrings thy gentle heart, O wilt thou let me cheer thee?

By the treasure of my soul, And that's the love I bear thee!

I swear and vow, that only thou
Shall ever be my dearie.

Only thou, I swear and vow,
Shall ever be my dearie;

Lassie, say thou lo'es me ;

Or if thou wilt na be my ain,
Say na thou'lt refuse me:

If it winna, canna be,
Thou, for thine, may choose me;

Let me, lassie, quickly die,
Trusting that thou lo’es me.

Lassie, let me quickly die,
Trusting that thou lo’es me.

SHE'S FAIR AND FAUSE.

She's fair and fause that causes my smart,

I lo'ed her meikle and lang;
She's broken her vow, she's broken my heart,

And I may e'en gae hang.
A coof cam in wi' rowth o gear,
And I hae tint my dearest dear,
But woman is but warld's gear,

Sae let the bonnie lass gang.

Whae'er ye be that woman love,

To this be never blind,
Nae ferlie 'tis tho' fickle she prove,

A woman has't by kind :
O woman, lovely woman fair!
An angel form's faun to thy share,
'Twad been o'er mejkle to gien thee mair,

I mean an angel mind.

AFTON WATER.

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,
Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise ;
My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.

Thou slock-dove, whose echo resounds thro' the

glen, Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den, Thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming for

bear, I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair.

How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills, Far mark'd with the courses of clear, winding

rills ;

There daily I wander as noon rises high,
My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye.

How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below, Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow! There oft as mild evening weeps over the lea, The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me.

Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides,
And winds by the cot where my Mary resides ;
How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave,
As gathering sweet flowerets she stems thy clear

wave.

Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green

braes, Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream,

BONNIE BELL.

The smiling spring comes in rejoicing,

And surly winter grimly flies;
Now crystal clear are the falling waters,

And bonnie blue are the sunny skies ;
Fresh o'er the mountains breaks forth the morn-

ing, The ev'ning gilds the ocean's swell ; All creatures joy in the sun's returning,

And I rejoice in my bonnie Bell.

The flow'ry spring leads sunny summer,

And yellow autumn presses near, Then in his turn comes gloomy winter,

'Till smiling spring again appear. Thus seasons dancing, life advancing,

Old time and nature their changes tell, But never ranging, still unchanging,

I adore my bonnie Bell.

THE GALLANT WEAVER.

Where Cart rins rowin to the sea,
By mony a flow'r and spreading tree,
There lives a lad, the lad for me,

He is a gallant weaver,

Oh I had wooers aught or nine,
They gied me rings and ribbons fine;
And I was fear'd my heart would tjne,

And I gied it to the weaver.

My daddie sign'd my tocher-band
To gie the lad that has the land,
Bụt to my heart I'll add my hand,

And give it to the weaver.

While birds rejoice in leafy bowers ;
While bees delight in opening flowers ;
While corn grows green in simmer showers,

I'll love my gallant weaver*.

LOUIS WHAT RECK I BY THEE.

Louis, what reck I by thee,

Or Geordie on his ocean:

* In some editions sailor is substituted for beaver

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