THE LAND O' THE LEAL. I'm wearin' awa', John, Like snaw-wreaths in thaw, John: To the land o' the leal. There's nae sorrow there, John; There neither cauld nor care, John; The day is aye fair In the land o' the leal. Our bonnie bairn's there, John; To the land o' the leal. In the land o' the leal. Sae dear's that joy was bought, John, To the land o' the leal. Oh, dry your glist'ning ee, John ! To the land o' the leal. Oh, haud ye leal and true, John! To the land o' the leal. In the land o' the leal. THE LAIRD O' COCKPEN. The Laird o' Cockpen, he's proud an' he's great, Doun by the dyke-side a lady did dwell, At his table-head he thought she'd look well; M'Clish's ae daughter o' Claverse-ha' Lee, A penniless lass wi' a lang pedigree. His wig was weel pouther'd, and as guid as new, His waistcoat was white, his coat it was blue; He put on a ring, a sword, and cock'd hat And wha' could refuse the Laird wi' a' that? He took the gray mare, and rade cannilie, And rapp'd at the yett o' Claverse-ha' Lee; "Gae tell Mistress Jean to come speedily ben, She's wanted to speak to the Laird o' Cockpen." Mistress Jean was makin' the elder-flower wine. "And what brings the Laird at sic a like time?" She put aff her apron and on her silk goun, Her mutch wi' red ribbons, and gaed awa' doun. And when she can' ben, he bowed fu' low, And what was his errand he soon let her know; Amazed was the Laird when the lady said Na; And wi' a laigh curtsie she turned awa'. Dumbfounder'd he was, but nae sigh did he gie; His mind is ta'en up wi' the things o' the He mounted his mare, and rade cannilie; state; He wanted a wife his braw house to keep, But favour wi' wooin' was fashious to seek. And aften he thought, as he gaed through the glen, She's daft to refuse the Laird o' Cockpen. And now that the Laird his exit had made, Mistress Jean she reflected on what she had said; When the creel o' herrin' passes, Ladies, clad in silks and laces, Gather in their braw pelisses, "Oh! for ane I'll get better, it's waur I'll Cast their heads and screw their faces. get ten I was daft to refuse the Laird o' Cockpen." Next time that the Laird and the Lady were seen, Wha'll buy caller herrin'? &c. Caller herrin's no got lightlie; Ye can trip the spring fu' tightlie; They were gaun arm-in-arm to the kirk Gow has set you a' a-singin'. Wha'll buy my caller herrin'? New drawn frae the Forth? When ye were sleepin' on your pillows, Buy my caller herrin', New drawn frae the Forth. Wha'll buy my caller herrin'? They're no brought here without brave daring; Buy my caller herrin', Haul'd thro' wind and rain. Wha'll buy caller herrin'? &c. Wha'll buy my caller herrin'? Wha'll buy caller herrin'? &c. I The last two stanzas were added by Miss Ferrier, the authoress of Marriage. THE LASS O' GOWRIE. Cam ower the hills to Gowrie. That e'er was seen in Gowrie. To see her cousin she cam' there, O lang the lassie I had woo'd, I pointed to my father's ha', Her faither was baith glad and wae ; She whiles did smile, she whiles did greet, HUNTINGTOWER. When ye gang awa', Jamie, When ye gang awa', laddie, What will ye gi'e my heart to cheer, When ye are far awa', Jamie? I'll gi'e ye a braw new goun, Jeanie, I'll gi'e ye a braw new goun, lassie, An' it will be a silken ane, Wi' Valenciennes trimm'd round, O that's nae luve at a', laddie, But mind me when awa', Jamie, Wi' mony folk we ken, Jamie. Oh! that can never be, Jeanie, The hills are grand and hie, Jeanie, The burnies rinnin' clear, lassie, 'Mang birks and braes, where the wild deer strays, Oh come wi' me and see, lassie ! I winna gang wi' thee, laddie, But when ye're wed to me, Jeanie, Then they will forgi'e, lassie ; How can ye be sae cauld to me, Wha's lo'ed ye weel and lang, lassie ! No sae lang as them, laddie, No sae lang as them, Jamie ; A grief to them I wadna be, No for the Duke himsel', Jamie. We'll save our penny fee, laddie, Huntingtower is mine, lassie, THE HUNDRED PIPERS. Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a', Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a', We'll up and gie them a blaw, a blaw, Wi' a hundred pipers an' a', an' a'. Oh! it's ower the Border awa', awa', It's ower the Border awa', awa', We'll on and we'll march to Carlisle ha', Wi' its yetts, its castell, an' a', an' a'. Oh! our sodger lads looked braw, looked braw, Wi' their tartans, kilts, an a', an' a', ing gear, An' pibrochs sounding sweet and clear. Will they a' return to their ain dear glen? Will they a' return, our Highland men? Second-sighted Sandy looked fu' wae, And mothers grat when they marched away. Wi' a hundred pipers, &c. Oh wha is foremost o' a', o' a'? Bonnie Charlie the king o' us a', hurrah! | English bribes were a' in vain, Wi' his hundred pipers an' a', an' a'. An' e'en tho' puirer we may be ; That beats aye for thine and thee. We watched thee in the gloamin' hour, The Esk was swollen sae red and sae deep, Tho' thirty thousand pounds they'd gi'e, But shouther to shouther the brave lads Oh, there was nane that wad betray. Sweet's the laverock's note and lang, Will ye no come back again? THE ROWAN TREE. Oh! Rowan Tree, Oh! Rowan Tree, thou'lt aye be dear to me; Intwin'd thou art wi' mony ties o' hame Thy leaves were aye the first o' spring, Oh! Rowan Tree. How fair wert thou in simmer time, wi' a' thy clusters white, How rich and gay thy autumn dress, wi' berries red and bright! On thy fair stem were mony names, which now nae mair I see, But they're engraven on my heart-forgot they ne'er can be! Oh! Rowan Tree. We sat aneath thy spreading shade, the An' says the ane unto the ither, bairnies round thee ran, They pu'd thy bonny berries red, and necklaces they strang; My mother! oh! I see her still, she Oh! Rowan Tree. Oh! there arose my father's prayer, in holy evening's calm, What do you see, my good brither? I see some pickles o' guid strae The snaw will come an' cour the grund, How sweet was then my mother's voice, O lang he thocht and lang he luiket, in the Martyr's psalm! Now a' are gane! we meet nae mair aneath the Rowan Tree; But hallowed thoughts around thee twine, o' hame and infancy. Oh! Rowan Tree. THE TWA DOOS. There were twa doos sat in a dookit; An' aye his wise-like head he shook it ; Wae's me, there's thochtless, lang Tam Aye spending what he's no to pay; When we were young it was na sae ; |