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Thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming forbear, I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair.
How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring bills,
How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below,
Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes,
The smiling spring comes in rejoicing,
And surly winter grimly flies :
And bonnie blue are the sunny skies ;
Fresh o'er the mountains breaks forth the morn
ing, The ev’ning gilds the ocean's swell ; All creatures joy in the sun's returning,
And I rejoice in my bonnie Bell.
The flowery spring leads sunny summer,
And yellow autumn presses near, Then in his turn comes gloomy winter,
Till smiling spring again appear. Thus seasons dancing, life advancing,
Old Time and nature their changes tell, But never ranging, still unchanging
I adore my bonnie Bell.
THE GALLANT WEAVER.
WHERE Cart rins rowin to the sea,
He is a gallant weaver.
Oh I had wooers aught or nine,
And I gied it to the weaver.
My daddie sign'd my tocher-band,
And gie it to the weaver.
While birds rejoice in leafy bowers;
I'll love my gallant weaver.
LOUIS WHAT RECK I BY THEE?
Louis what reck I by thee,
Or Geordie on his ocean? Dyvor, beggar louns to me,
I reign in Jeanie's bosom.
Let her crown my love her law,
And in her breast enthrone me : Kings and nations, swith awa!
Reif randies, I disown ye!
FOR THE SAKE OF SOMEBODY.
My heart is sair, I dare nae tell,
My heart is sair for somebody ;
Oh-hon ! for somebody!
Oh-hey! for somebody!
Ye powers that smile on virtuous love,
(), sweetly smile on somebody!
Frae ilka danger keep him free,
Oh-hon ! for somebody!
Oh-hey! for somebody! I wad do-what wad I not? For the sake o' somebody!
THE LOVELY LASS OF INVERNESS.
The lovely lass o' Inverness,
Nae joy nor pleasure can she see; For e'en and morn she cries, alas !
And ay the saut tear blins her e'e : Drumossie moor, Drumossie day,
A waefu' day it was to me; For there I lost my father dear,
My father dear, and brethren three.
Their winding sheet the bluidy clay,
Their graves are growing green to see ; And by them lies the dearest lad
That ever blest a woman's e'e !
A bluidy man I trow thou be;
That ne'er did wrong to thine or thee.
A MOTHER'S LAMENT FOR THE DEATH
OF HER SON.
Tune, ' Finlayston House.'
Fate gave the word, the arrow sped,
And pierc'd my darling's heart :
Life can to me impart.
In dust dishonour'd laid :
My age's future shade.
The mother-linnet in the brake
Bewails her ravish'd young;
Lament the live-day long.
Now, fond I bare my breast, 0, do thou kindly lay me low
With him I love, at rest !
O MAY, THY MORN.
O May, thy morn was ne'er sae sweet,
As the mirk night o’ December; For sparkling was the rosy wine,
And private was the chamber: And dear was she I dare na name, But I will ay remember.
And dear, &c.