O lovely Polly Stewart!

O charming Polly Stewart!

There's ne'er a flower that blooms in May
That's half so sweet as thou art.

COULD AUGHT OF SONG.

TUNE-At Setting Day.

COULD aught of song declare my pains,
Could artful numbers move thee,
The Muse should tell, in laboured strains,
O Mary, how I love thee!

They who but feign a wounded heart
May teach the lyre to languish;
But what avails the pride of art,

When wastes the soul with anguish?

Then let the sudden bursting sigh
The heart-felt pang discover;
And in the keen, yet tender eye,
O read th' imploring lover!
For well I know thy gentle mind
Disdains art's gay disguising;
Beyond what fancy e'er refined,
The voice of Nature prizing.

WAE IS MY HEART.

TUNE-Wae is my Heart.

WAE is 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.

Love, thou hast pleasures, and deep hae I loved :
Love, thou hast sorrows, and sair hae I proved;
But this bruised heart that now bleeds in my breast,
I can feel its throbbings will soon be at rest.

Oh, if I were happy, where happy I hae been,
Down by yon stream, and yon bonnie castle-green;
For there he is wand'ring, and musing on me,
Wha wad soon dry the tear frae Phillis's ee.

woe, eye

long

have

sore

who would

HERE'S TO THY HEALTH MY BONNIE LASS.

TUNE-Laggan Burn.

HERE'S to thy health, my bonnie lass,
Guid-night, and joy be wi' thee;
I'll come nae mair to thy bower-door,
To tell thee that I loe thee.

good

no mo:e love

O dinna think, my pretty pink,
But I can live without thee:
I vow and swear I dinna care

How lang ye look about ye.
Thou'rt aye sae free informing me
Thou hast nae mind to marry;
I'll be as free informing thee
Nae time hae I to tarry.

I ken thy friends try ilka means,
Frae wedlock to delay thee;
Depending on some higher chance-
But fortune may betray thee.

I ken they scorn my low estate,
But that does never grieve me;
But I'm as free as any he,

Sma' siller will relieve me.

I count my health my greatest wealth,
Sae long as I'll enjoy it :

don't

long

80

have

know, every

wealth

50

I'll fear nae scant, I'll bode nae want,
As lang's I get employment.

scarcity, forbode

But far-off fowls hae feathers fair,

And aye until ye try them:

Though they seem fair, still have a care,

They may prove waur than I am.

But STILL at night, when the moon shines bright,

My dear, I'll come and see thee;

For the man that loes his mistress weel,

Nae travel makes him weary.

ANNA, THY CHARMS.

TUNE-Bonnie Mary.

ANNA, thy charms my bosom fire,
And waste my soul with care;
But, ah! how bootless to admire,
When fated to despair!

Yet in thy presence, lovely fair,
To hope may be forgiven;

For sure 'twere impious to despair,
So much in sight of heaven.

MY LADY'S DINK.

My lady's dink, my lady's drest,
The flower and fancy of the west,
But the lassie that a man loes best,
O that's the lass to make him blest.

Out ower yon muir, out ower yon moss,
Whare gor-cocks through the heather pass,
There wons auld Colin's bonnie lass-
A lily in a wilderness.

Worse

trim

o'er where moorcocks dwells

Sae sweetly move her gentle limbs,
Like music notes o' lovers' hymns:
The diamond dew is her een sae blue,

Where laughing love sae wanton swims.

JOCKEY'S TAEN THE PARTING KISS.

TUNE-Jockey's taen the parting Kiss.

And with him is a' my bliss,

Nought but griefs with me remain.
Spare my luve, ye winds that blaw,

Plashy sleets and beating rain !
Spare my luve, thou feathery snaw,
Drifting o'er the frozen plain.
When the shades of evening creep
O'er the day's fair, gladsome ee,
Sound and safely may he sleep,

Sweetly blithe his waukening be!
He will think on her he loves,

Fondly he'll repeat her name;
For where'er he distant roves,
Jockey's heart is still at hame.

O LAY THY LOOF IN MINE, LASS.

TUNE-Cordwainers' March.

love, blow

snow

eye

awaking

home

O LAY thy loof in mine, lass,

In mine, lass, in mine, lass;

And swear on thy white hand, lass,

hand

That thou wilt be my ain.

A slave to love's unbounded sway,
He aft has wrought me meikle wae;
But now he is my deadly fae,

Unless thou be my ain.

There's mony a lass has broke my rest,
That for a blink I hae loed best;
But thou art queen within my breast,
For ever to remain.

O lay thy loof in mine, lass,

In mine, lass, in mine, lass;

And swear on thy white hand, lass,
That thou wilt be my ain.

own

oft, much woe

foe

moment, I've loved

O MALLY'S MEEK, MALLY'S SWEET.
O MALLY'S meek, Mally's sweet,

Mally's modest and discreet,

Mally's rare, Mally's fair,

Mally's every way complete.

As I was walking up the street,
A barefit maid I chanced to meet;
But oh, the road was very hard

For that fair maiden's tender feet.

It were mair meet that those fine feet
Were weel laced up in silken shoon;
And 'twere more fit that she should sit
Within yon chariot gilt aboon.

Her yellow hair, beyond compare,

Comes trinkling down her swan-like neck;

And her two eyes, like stars in skies,
Would keep a sinking ship frae wreck.

THE BANKS OF CREE.

TUNE-The Banks of Cree.

HERE is the glen, and here the bower,
All underneath the birchen shade;
The village-bell has tolled the hour.
O what can stay my lovely maid?
"Tis not Maria's whispering call;
"Tis but the balmy-breathing gale,
Mixed with some warbler's dying fall,
The dewy star of eve to hail.

It is Maria's voice I hear!—

So calls the woodlark in the grove, His little faithful mate to cheer;

At once 'tis music and 'tis love.

And art thou come ?-and art thou true?
O welcome, dear, to love and me!
And let us all our vows renew,

Along the flowery banks of Cree.

ON THE SEAS AND FAR AWAY.
TUNE-O'er the Hills, &c.

How can my poor heart be glad,
When absent from my sailor lad?
How can I the thought forego,
He's on the seas to meet the foe?
Let me wander, let me rove,
Still my heart is with my love:

Nightly dreams, and thoughts by day,
Are with him that's far away.

CHORUS.

On the seas and far away,
On stormy seas and far away;

Nightly dreams, and thoughts by day,

Are aye with him that's far away.

more

shoes

above

from

When in Summer's noon I faint,
As weary flocks around me pant,
Haply in the scorching sun
My sailor's thundering at his gun:
Bullets, spare my only joy!
Bullets, spare my darling boy!
Fate, do with me what you may,
Spare but him that's far away!

At the starless midnight hour,

When Winter rules with boundless power;
As the storms the forest tear,

And thunders rend the howling air,
Listening to the doubling roar,
Surging on the rocky shore,
All I can-I weep and pray,
For his weal that's far away.

Peace, thy olive wand extend,
And bid wild War his ravage end,
Man with brother man to meet,
And as a brother kindly greet;

Then may Heaven, with prosperous gales,
Fill my sailor's welcome sails,

To my arms their charge convey,

My dear lad that s far away.