Three times the gray cock flapt his wing,

To mark the morning lift her ee,
And thrice the passing spirit said,
Sweet Mary, weep nae mair for me!

mustana
THE BANKS OF THE DEE.

· TUNE- Langolee.' * Twas summer and saftly the breezes were blowing,

And sweetly the nightingale sung from the tree; At the foot of a rock where the river is fowing,

I sat myself down on the banks of the Dee. Flow on, lovely Dee, flow on thou sweet river, Thy banks, purest stream, shall be dear to me ever, For there I first gain'd the affection and favor

Of Jamie, the glory and pride of the Dee. But now he's gone from me, and left me thus mourt.

ing,

To quell the proud rebels-for valiant is he; And ah! there's no hopes of his speedy returning,

To wander again on the banks of the Dee. He's gone, hapless youth! o'er the loud roaring bil.

lows, The kindest and sweetest of all the gay fellows: And left me to stray 'mongst the once loved willows,

The loneliest maid on the banks of the Dee. But time and my prayers may perhaps yet restore him,

Blest peace may restore my dear shepherd to me; And when he returns, with such care I'll watch o'er

him, He never shall leave the sweet banks of the Dee. The Dee then shall flow, all its beauties displaying; The lambs on its banks, shall again be seen playing; While I with my Jamie am carelessly straying,

And tasting again all the sweets of the Dee.

SOUND, PIBROCH, SOUND. TUNE– Eiridh na Finnacha Gaelach.' SOUND, Pibroch, sound! on each flame lighted scaur, The red beacon waves its glad summons to war; Too long has old Albin been bow'd to the yoke, Too long ere the pride of the tartan awoke. Dun Edin shall welcome her monarch again, We have spurn'd at the Saxon and trampled the chain: Burst forth in your wrath, and the fight shall be won, Ere the echoes return to the roar of the gun. Sound, pibroch sound! with thy soul-stirring peal, Call the men of Glenulin, the sons of Lochiel; Our prince is among us, with claymore and plaid, And plaid and claymore shall stand forth to his aid. Come down like your torrents full flush'd with the rain, Cry your war cry like eagles that scream o'er the slain, One wild day of battle, one rush on the foe, And the traitors shal! quail, the usurper lie low.

THE POOR AND HONEST SODGER.
WHEN wild war's deadly blast was blown,

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.
A leal light heart was in my breast,

My hand unstain'd wi' plunder;
And for fair Scotia hame again

I cheery on did wander.
I thought upon the banks o' Coil,

I thought upon my Nancy,

I thought upon the witching smile

That caught my youthful fancy. At length I reach'd the bonnie glen,

Where early life I sported; I pass'd the mill, and trysting thorn,

Where Nancy aft. I courted; Wha spied I but my ain dear maid

Down by her motber's dwelling; And turn'd me round to hide the food

That in my een was swelling. Wi' alter'd voice, quoth I, sweet lass,

Sweet as yon hawthorn's blossom, 0! happy, happy may he be,

That's dearest to thy bosom! My purse is light, I've far to gang,

And fain wad be thy lodger;
I've serv'd my king and country lang;

Take pity on a sodger.
Sae wistfully she gaz'd on me,

And lovelier was than ever;
Quo’she, a sodger ance I lo’ed,

Forget him shall I never;
Our humble cot and haniely fare,

Ye freely shall partake it;
That gallant badge, the dear cockade,

Ye're welcome for the sake o't. She gaz'd she redden'd like a rose

Syne pale like ony lily,
She sunk within my arms, and cried,

Art thou my ain dear Willie?
By him who made yon sun and sky,

By whom true love's regarded,
I am the man; and thus may still

True lovers be rewarded.

The wars are o’er, and I'm come hame,

And find thee still true-hearted;
Though poor in gear, we're rich in love,

And mair we'se ne'er be parted.
Quo’she, my grandsire left me gowd,

A mailen plenish'd fairly;
And come, my faithful sodger lad,

Thou’rt welcome to it dearly!
For gold the merchant ploughs the main,

The farmer ploughs the manor;
But glory is the sodger's prize;

The sodger's wealth is honor; .
The brave poor sodger ne'er despise,

Nor count-him as a stranger;
Remember he's his country's stay
In day and hour of danger.

manna

SANDY AND JENNIE. COME, come, bonnie Lassie, cried Sandy, awa, Whilst mither is spinning, and father's afa'; The folks are at work, and the bairns are at play, And we will be married, dear Jenny, to day. . Stay, stay, bonnie Laddie, then cried I with speed, I wo’na, I ma'na go with you indeed; Besides should I do so, what would the folks say, So we canna marry, dear Sandy, to-day. List, list bonny Lassie, and mind what you do, For Peggy and Patty I give up for you; Besides a full twelvemonth we've trifled away, And one or the other I'll marry to-day. Fie, fie, bonny Laddie, then cried I again, For Peggy you kiss'd t’other day on the plain: Besides a new ribbon does Patty display, And we canna marry, dear Sandy, to-day.

0, then, a good-bye, bonnie Lassie, cried he,
For Peggy and Patty are waiting for me;
The kirk is hard by, and the bell calls away,
And Peggy or Patty I'll marry to day.
Stay, stay, bonnie Laddie, cried I with a smile,
For know I was jesting, indeed, all the while;
Let Peggy go spin, and send Patty away,
And we will be married, dear Sandy, to-day.

JOHN ANDERSON MY JO.
John Anderson my Jo, John,

When nature first began
To try her canny hand, John,

Her masterwork was man;
And you aboon them a' John,

So trig from top to toe,
She prov'd to be no journey-work,
John Anderson my Jo.

And you aboon them a', &c.,
John Anderson my Jo, John,

When first we were acquaint,
Your locks were like the sloe, John,

Your bonny brow was brent;
But now your brow is bald, John,

Your locks are like the snow,
Yet blessings on your frosty pow,
John Anderson my Jo.

But now your brow, &c.
John Anderson my Jo, John,

What pleasure 'tis to see,
The young, the lively brood, John,
. Bred up 'twixt you and me.
And ilka lad and lass, John,

In our footsteps to go,