Thine am I, my faithful Fair, Thine, my lovely Nancy; Ev'ry pulse along my veins, Ev'ry roving fancy. To thy bosom lay my heart, There to throb and languish; Tho' despair had wrung its core, That would healits anguish. Take away those rosy lips, Rich with balmy treasure; Turn away thine eyes of love, Lest
Here awa, there awa, wandering Willie, Here awa, there awa, haudawahame; Come to my bosom, my ainonly dearie, Tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same. Winter winds blew loud and cauldat our parting, Fears for my Willie brought tears in my e'e, Welcome nowhSimmer, and welcome, my Willie, The Simmerto Nature, my Willie
Where are the joys I have met in the morning, That danc'd to the lark's early song? Where is the peace that awaited my wand'ring, At evening the wild-woods among? No more a winding the course of yonriver, And marking sweet flowerets so fair, Nomore I trace the light footsteps of Pleasure, ButSorrow and sad-sighing
Amang the trees, where humming bees, At buds and flowers were hinging, O, AuldCaledon drew out her drone, And to her pipe was singing, O: 'Twas Pibroch, Sang, Strathspeys, and Reels, She dirl'd them afffu'clearly, O: When there cam' a yello'foreign squeels, That dang her tapsalteerie, O. Their caponcraws an'queer "ha, ha's," They made our
As I stood by yonroofless tower, Where the wa'flower scents the dewy air, Where the howletmourns in her ivy bower, And tells the midnight moon her care. The winds were laid, the airwas still, The stars they shot alangthe sky; The fox was howling on the hill, And the distant echoing glens reply. The stream,
Chorus-Bannocks o' bear meal, Bannocks o' barley, Here's to the Highlandman's Bannocks o' barley! Wha, in a brulyie, will First cry a parley? Never the lads wi' the Bannocks o' barley, Bannocks o' bear meal, &c. Wha, in his waedays, Were loyal to Charlie? Whabutthe lads wi'the Bannocks o' barley! Bannocks o'bearmeal, &c.
Behold, my love, how green the groves, The primrose banks how fair; The balmy gales awake the flowers, And wave thy flowing hair. The lav'rock shuns the palace gay, And o'er the cottage sings: For Nature smiles as sweet, I ween, To Shepherds as to Kings. Let minstrels sweep the skilfu' string, In lordly lighted