How we live, my Meg and me, YOUNG JOCKEY. YOUNG Jockey was the blithest lad My Jockey toils upon the plain, Thro' wind and weet, thro' frost and snaw; And o'er the lee I look fu' fain When Jockey's owsen hameward ca'. An' aye the night comes round again, An' 1 The Gaud-at the Plough. M.PHERSON'S FAREWELL. FAREWELL, ye dungeons dark and strong, On yonder gallows tree. CHORUS. Sae rantingly, sae wantonly, He play'd a spring and danc'd it round, Oh, what is death but parting breath ?— I've dar'd his face, and in this place Sae rantingly, &c. Untie these bands from off my And bring to me my sword; hands, And there's no man in all Scotland, But I'll brave him at a word. Sae rantingly, &c. I've liv'd a life of sturt and strife; It burns my heart I must depart And not avenged be. Sae rantingly, &c. Now farewell, light, thou sunshine bright, And all beneath the sky! May coward shame distain his name, The wretch that dares not die! Sae rantingly, &c. A BOTTLE AND FRIEND. HERE'S a bottle and an honest friend! What wad ye wish for mair, man? Wha kens, before his life may end, What his share may be of care, man? Then catch the moments as they fly, And use them as ye ought, man :-Believe me, happiness is shy, And comes not aye when sought, man. I'LL KISS THEE YET. TUNE-The Braes o' Balquhidder. CHORUS. I'll kiss thee yet, yet, An' I'll kiss thee o'er again, ILK care and fear, when thou art near, I'll kiss thee, &c. When in my arms, wi' a' thy charms, ON CESSNOCK BANKS. And by thy een sae bonnie blue, 193 ON CESSNOCK BANKS. TUNE-If he be a Butcher neat and trim. ON Cessnock banks there lives a lass; Could I describe her shape and mien; The graces of her weel-far'd face, And the glancin' of her sparklin' een. She's fresher than the morning dawn When rising Phoebus first is seen, When dew-drops twinkle o'er the lawn; An' she's twa glancin' sparklin' een. She's stately like yon youthful ash That grows the cowslip braes between, And shoots its head above each bush; An' she's twa glancin' sparklin' een. She's spotless as the flow'ring thorn With flow'rs so white and leaves so green, When purest in the dewy morn; An' she's twa glancin' sparklin' een. Her looks are like the sportive lamb, When flow'ry May adorns the scene, That wantons round its bleating dam; An' she's twa glancin' sparklin' een. Her hair is like the curling mist That shades the mountain-side at e'en, When flow'r-reviving rains are past; And she's twa glancin' sparklin' een. R 2 Her forehead's like the show'ry bow, Her teeth are like a flock of sheep, That gently stirs the blossom'd bean, But it's not her air, her form, her face, Tho' matching beauty's fabled queen, WAE is WAE IS MY HEART. my heart, and the tear's in my ee; Lang, lang, joy's been a stranger to me: Forsaken and friendless my burden I bear, And the sweet voice o' pity ne'er sounds in my ear. |