326

THERE was a bonnie lass, and a bonnie, bonnie lass,
And she loed her bonnie laddie dear,
Till war's loud alarms stole her laddie frae her arms,
Wi' monie a sigh and a tear.

loved

from

many

Over sea, over shore, where the cannons loudly roar,
He still was a stranger to fear;

And nought could him quail, or his bosom assail,
But the bonnie lass he loed sae dear.

Ance crowdie, twice crowdie,

Three times crowdie in a day;
Gin ye crowdie ony mair,

Ye'll crowdie a' iny meal away.

829

THE BLUDE-RED ROSE AT YULE MAY BLAW.

TUNE-To daunton me.

THE blude-red rose at Yule may blaw,

The simmer lillies bloom in snaw,
The frost may freeze the deepest sea;
But an auld man shall never daunton me.

To daunton me, and me so young,
Wi' his fause heart and flatt'ring tongue
That is the thing you ne'er shall see:
For an auld man shall never daunton me.

For a' his meal and a' his maut,
For a' his fresh beef and his saut,
For a' his gold and white monie,
An auld man shall never daunton me.

His gear may buy him kye and yowes,
His

gear may buy him glens and knowes; But me he shall not buy nor fee,

For an auld man shall never daunton me.

He hirples twa-fauld as he dow,

Wi'his teethless gab and his auld beld pow,

limps, double, car

mouth, bald head

And the rain rins down from his red bleer'd ee-
That auld man shall never daunton me.

eye

old⚫

CASSILLIS' BANKS.

Now bank and brae are claith'd in green,

clothed

And scatter'd cowslips sweetly spring;

By Girvan's fairy-haunted stream

The birdies flit on wanton wing.

To Cassillis' banks when e'ening fa's,
There wi' my Mary let me flee,
There catch her ilka glance of love,
The bonnie blink o' Mary's ee!

The chield wha boasts o' warld's wealth

Is aften laird o' meikle care;

But Mary she is a' my ain

Ah! Fortune canna gie me mair,

Then let me range by Cassillis' banks,
Wi' her, the lassie dear to me,

And catch her ilka glance o' love,
The bonnie blink o' Mary's ee

every
eye

who, world's

often, much

Own

cannot, give, more

HUNTING SONG.

TUNE-I red you beware at the Hunting.

THE heather was blooming, the meadows were mawn,
Our lads gaed a hunting ane day at the dawn,
Owre moors and owre mosses and mony a glen,
At length they discovered a bonny moor-hen.

I red you beware at the hunting, young men ;
I red you beware at the hunting, young men ;
Tak some on the wing, and some as they spring,
But cannily steal on a bonnie moor-hen.

Sweet brushing the dew from the brown heather-bells,
Her colours betray'd her on yon mossy fells;
Her plumage out-lustered the pride o' the spring,
And oh I as she wantonèd gay on the wing.
I red you beware, &c.

Auld Phoebus himsel, as he peep'd o'er the hill,
In spite. at her plumage he tried his skill;

He levell'd his rays where she bask'd on the brae-
His rays were outshone, and but mark'd where she lay
I red you beware, &c.

They hunted the valley, they hunted the hill;
The best of our lads wi' the best o' their skill;
But still as the fairest she sat in their sight,
Then, whirr! she was over a mile at a flight.
I red you beware, &c.

HEY, THE DUSTY MILLER.

TUNE-The Dusty Miller.

HEY, the dusty miller,

And his dusty coat;

He will win a shilling,

mowed went, one

over

warn

quietly

bills

before

from

blessings

money would give

bane