Oh I am come to the low Countrie, Ochon, Ochon, Ochrie! Without a penny in my purse, To buy a meal to me. It was nasae in the Highland hills, Ochon, Ochon, Ochrie! Nae woman in the Country wide, Sae happy was as me. For then I had a score o'kye, Ochon, Ochon, Ochrie! Feeding

Hee balou, my sweet weeDonald, Picture o' the great Clanronald; Brawliekens our wanton Chief Whagatmy young Highland thief. Leeze me onthy boniecraigie, An'thou live, thou'll steal a naigie, Travel the country thro' and thro', And bring hame a Carlisle cow. Thro' the Lawlands, o'er the Border, Weel, my babie, may thou furder! Herrythe louns o'the

Here is the glen, and here the bower All underneath the birchen shade; The village-bell has told the hour, O what can stay my lovely maid? 'Tis not Maria's whispering call; 'Tis butthe balmy breathing gale, Mixt with some warbler's dying fall, The dewy star of eve to hail. It is Maria's voice I hear;

The friend whom, wild from Wisdom's way, The fumes of wine infuriate send, (Not moony madness more astray) Who butdeplores that hapless friend? Mine was th' insensate frenzied part, Ah! why should I such scenes outlive? Scenes so abhorrent to my heart!- 'Tis thine to pity and forgive.

As I gaedup byyon gate-end, When day was waxin' weary, Whadid I meet come down the street, Butpretty Peg, my dearie! Her airsaesweet, an'shape complete, Wi' naeproportion wanting, The Queen of Love did never move Wi' motion mairenchanting. Wi'linked hands we took the sands, Adown yonwinding river; Oh, that sweet hour and shady bower, Forget

If you rattle along like your Mistress' tongue, Your speed will outrival the dart; Buta fly for your load, you'll break down on the road, If your stuff be as rotten's her heart.