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I HAD A HORSE.
I HAD a horse, and I had nae mair,

I gat it frae my daddie;
My purse was light, and my heart was sair,

But my wit it was fu' ready.
So I bethought me on a time,

Outwittens o' my daddie,
To fee mysel to a Lawland laird,

Wha had a bonnie lady.
I wrote a letter, and thus began:

Madam, be not offended;
I'm owre the lugs in love wi' you,

And I carena though ye kend it:
For I get little frae the laird,

And far less frae my daddie; Yet I wad blythely be the man

Wad strive to please my lady. She read my letter, and she leugh;

Ye needna been sae blate, man, Ye might hae come to me yoursel,

And tauld me a' your state, man:
Ye might hae come to me yoursel,

Outwittens o' onie body,
And made John Goukston o' the laird,

And kiss'd his bonnie lady.
Then she pat siller in my purse,

We drank wine in a cogie;
She fee'd a man to rub my horse,

And vow but I was vogie!
But I ne'er gat sae sair a fleg

Since I cam frae my daddie;
The laird cam, rap, rap! to the yett,

When I was wi' his lady.
Then she pat me behint a chair,

And hap'd me wi' a plaidie;

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FAREWELL TO AYRSHIRE.
SCENES of wo, and scenes of pleasure,

Scenes that former thoughts renew;
Scenes of wo, and scenes of pleasure,

Now a sad and last adieu !
Bonnie Doon, sae sweet at gloaming,

Fare thee weel before I gang:
Bonnie Doon, whare early roaming,

First I weard the rustic sang.
Bowers, adien! whare love decoying,

First enthralld this heart o'mine;
There the saftest sweets enjoying,

Sweets that mem'ry ne'er shall tyne.
Friends se near my bosom erer,

Ye bae render'd moments dear;
But, alas! when tored to sever,

Then the stroke, O how severe !

This story was founded a facte A Joax HUNTER, ancestor to a very respectable farming family the fire is a place in the parish, I think, of Galsten, sled Barr will as the lock. less here that had a horse and had nae mait -For some little youthful Allies he found it ressary to make a retreat to the West Highland where he feed himself to a Highland Laird," for that is the expressiva of all the oral editions of the song I ever heard. The present Mr. Huster, whe told me the anedois is the great grand child to our hera - er

Friends, that parting tear reserve it,

Though 'tis doubly dear to me;
Could I think I did deserve it,

How much happier would I be!

Scenes of wo, and scenes of pleasure,

Scenes that former thoughts renew:
Scenes of wo, and scenes of pleasure,

Now a sad and last adieu. *

* This song, written by Mr. RICHARD Gall, a Printer in E. dinburgh, but now dead, “ has acquired a high degree of praise, from its having been printed amongst the works of BURNS, and generally thought the production of that poet. The reverse, indeed, was only known to a few of Mr. Gall's friends, to whom he communicated the verses before they were published. The fame of BURNS stands in no need of the aid of others to support it; and to render back the song in question to its true anthor, is but an act of distributive justice, due alike to both these departed poets, whose ears are now equally insensible to the incense of flattery, or the slanders of malevolence. At the time when the Scots Musical Museum was published at Edinburgh by Mr. JOHNSON, several of Burns's songs made their appearance in that publication. Mr. Gall wrote this song, intitled-Farewell to Ayrshire, prefixed Burns's name to it, and sent it anonymously to the Publisher of that work. From thence it has been copied into the later editions of the works of Burns. In publishing the song in this manner, Mr. Gall probably thought that it might, under the sanction of a name known to the world, acquire that notice, which, in other circumstances, might have made its fate to be “to waste its sweetness in the desert air.'” -At the time the first No. of this work went to press, the Editor was not aware that Mr. GALL was also the author of My only Jo and Dearie, 0, though he has since learned that this was the case. Should the reader wish to obtain any further particulars respect. ing Mr. Gall, he may consult the Biographia Scotica, whence the above information is derived.

AH! WAES ME, LOV'D JEANIE.

Tune-" Robin Adair.
Ah! wae's me, lov'd Jeanie, thou'rt now frae me torn;
Lamented I see thee laid low and forlorn!

Thy friends, and parent dear,
That tend thy dismal bier,
I see in secret tear,

And deeply mourn.

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Yes, since thou art lonely laid low in that bed,
Where proudly around thee weeds wild wave their head,

Affection's tender ca',
Shall oft thy lover draw,
A lone tear to let fa'

By thy lov'd side.

Ye sangsters that chant in Glen-Dawin, sweet glen!
O hover around me, and wi' me complain :

While thus I breathe my lays,
Proclaiming Jeanie's praise,
A soothing warble raise,

In plaintive strain.

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For never again while the sun gilds the morn,
Shall nymph fair as Jeanie our valley adorn:

Ne'er shall a maiden fair,
Wi' her laid low compare;
Nor e'er shall maiden mair

Cheer me forlorn. *

THE TURNIMSPIKE.
HERSEL pe Highland shentleman,

Pe auld as Pothwel prig, man;
And monie alterations seen

Amang the Lawland whig, man,

First when her to the Lowlands cam,

Nainsel was driving cows, man:
There was nae laws about hims narse,

About the preeks or trouse, man.

Nainsel did wear the philapeg,

The plaid prik’t on her shouder;
The gude claymore hung pe her pelt,

The pistol sharg'd wi' pouder.
But for whereas these cursed preeks,

Wherewith mans narse be lockit,
O hon, that e'er she saw the day!

For a' her houghs pe prokit.

* This song is by the author of The Banks of Glaizart, and My Mary, 0. It was written for a young friend of the author's on the death of his sweetheart. Glen Dawin, mentioned in the 4th verse, is a small romantic glen adjoining that of the Clachan, for which the reader may consult the note on The Banks of Glaizart, page 44.

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