Though this was fair, and that was braw, And yon the toast of a' the town,

I sigh'd, and said amang them a', "Ye are na Mary Morison."

O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace,
Wha for thy sake wad gladly die?
Or canst thou break that heart of his,
Whase only fault is loving thee?
If love for love thou wilt na gie,
At least be pity to me shown!
A thought ungentle canna be

The thought o' Mary Morison.

WANDERING WILLIE.

HERE awa, there awa, wandering Willie,
Here awa, there awa, haud awa hame;
Come to my bosom my ain only dearie,

•

Tell me thou bringst me my Willie the same. Winter winds blew loud and cauld at our parting; Fears for my Willie brought tears in my e'e: Welcome now simmer, and welcome my Willie, The simmer to nature, my Willie to me. Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave of your slumbers, How your dread howling a lover alarms! Wauken, ye breezes, row gently, ye billows,

And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms. But O! if he's faithless, and minds na his Nannie, Flow still between us, thou wide-roaring main; May I never see it, may I never trow it,

But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain!

JESSIE.

TUNE-"Bonny Dundee."

TRUE hearted was he, the sad swain o' the Yarrow,
And fair are the maids on the banks o' the Ayr,
But by the sweet side o' the Nith's winding river,
Are lovers as faithful, and maidens as fair:
To equal young Jessie seek Scotland all over ;

To equal young Jessie you seek it in vain ;
Grace, beauty, and elegance fetter her lover,
And maidenly modesty fixes the chain.

O fresh is the rose in the gay, dewy morning,
And sweet is the lily at evening close;
But in the fair presence o' lovely young Jessie,
Unseen is the lily, unheeded the rose.
Love sits in her smile, a wizard insnaring;

Enthroned in her e'en he delivers his law; And still to her charms she alone is a stranger! Her modest demeanour's the jewel of a'.

WHEN WILD WAR'S DEADLY BLAST WAS

BLAWN.
AIR-"The mill mill O."

WHEN wild war's deadly blast was blawn,
And gentle peace returning,

Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless,
And mony a widow mourning,

I left the lines and tented field,
Where lang I'd been a lodger,
My humble knapsack a' my wealth,
A poor and honest sodger.

Now's the day and now's the hour;
See the front o' battle lower;
See approach proud Edward's power;
Edward! chains and slavery!

Wha will be a traitor knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a slave?

Traitor! coward! turn and flee! Wha for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or freeman fa', Caledonian! on wi' me!

By oppression's woes and pains!
By your sons in servile chains!
We will drain our dearest veins,

But they shall be-shall be free!

Lay the proud usurpers low! Tyrants fall in every foe! Liberty's in every blow!

Forward! let us do, or die!

FOR A' THAT, AND A' THAT.

Is there, for honest poverty,

That hangs his head, and a' that; The coward slave, we pass him by, We dare be poor for a' that! For a' that, and a' that,

Our toil's obscure and a' that, The rank is but the guinea stamp,

The man's the gowd for a' that.

What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin gray, and a' that;

Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,
A man's a man for a' that;

For a' that, and a' that,

Their tinsel show, and a' that; The honest man, though e'er sae poor, Is king o' men for a' that.

Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord,

Wha struts, and stares, and a' that; Though hundreds worship at his word, He's but a coof for a' that; For a' that, and a' that,

His riband, star, and a' that, The man of independent mind, He looks and laughs at a' that. A prince can mak a belted knight, A marquis, duke, and a' that; But an honest man's aboon his might, Guid faith he mauna fa' that! For a' that, and a' that,

Their dignities, and a' that, The pith o' sense, and pride 'worth, Are higher ranks than a' that.

Then let us pray that come it may,
As come it will for a' that,
That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth,
May bear the gree, and a' that.
For a' that, and a' that,

It's coming yet, for a' that,
That man to man, the warld o'er,
Shall brothers be for a' that.

SCOTTISH BALLAD.
TUNE-"The Lothian Lassie."

LAST May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen,
And sair wi' his love he did deave me ;

I said there was nothing I hated like men;

The deuce gae wi'm, to believe me, believe me, The deuce gae wi'm, to believe me.

He spak o' the darts in my bonnie black e'en, And vow'd for my love he was dying;

I said he might die when he liked, for Jean; The Lord forgie me for lying, for lying, The Lord forgie me for lying!

A weel-stocked mailen, himsel for the laird, And marriage aff-hand, were his proffers:

I never loot on that I kenn'd it, or cared,

But thought I might hae waur offers, waur offers, But thought I might hae waur offers.

But what wad ye think? in a fortnight or less,
The deil tak his taste to gae near her!--
He up the lang loan to my black cousin Bess;
Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her, could
bear her,

Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her.
But a' the niest week as I fretted wi' care,
I gaed to the tryste o' Dalgarnock,
And wha but my fine fickle lover was there,

I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock, a warlock,
I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock.

But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink, Lest neebors might say I was saucy;

My wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink, And vow'd I was his dear lassie, dear lassie, And vow'd I was his dear lassie.

I spier'd for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet,
Gin she had recover'd her hearin,

And how her new shoon fit her auld shachl't feet,
But, heavens how he fell a swearin, a swearin
But, heavens! how he fell a swearin.

He begg'd, for Gudesake! I wad be his wife, Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrow:

So e'en to preserve the poor body in life,

I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow, I think I maun wed him to-morrow.

SONG.

TUNE-"Here's a health to them that's awa, hiney."

CHORUS.

Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear,
Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear,

Thou art sweet as the smile when fond lovers meet
And soft as their parting tear-Jessy!

ALTHOUGH thou maun never be mine,

Although even hope is denied; 'Tis sweeter for thee despairing, Than aught in the world beside-Jessy! Here's a health, &c.

I mourn through the gay, gaudy day,

As, hopeless, I muse on thy charms; But welcome the dream o' sweet slumber, For then I am lockt in thy arms- Jessy' Here's a health, &c.