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My Lady's gown, there's gairs upon't.

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Awa', thou flaunting god o' day!

Awa', thou pale Diana !
Ilk star gae hide thy twinkling ray,

When I'm to meet my Anna.
Come, in thy raven plumage, night!

Sun, moon, an' stars withdrawn a'; An' bring an angel pen to write

My transports wi' my Anna!

IY LADY'S GOWN, THERE'S GAIRS

UPON 'T.

TUNE_“Gregg's pipes.”

My lady's gown, there's gairs upon 't,
An' gowden flowers sae rare upon 't;
But Jenny's jimps an' jirkinet,
My lord thinks meikle mair upon’t.

My lord a-hunting he is gane,
But hounds or hawks wi' him are nane,
By Colin's cottage lies his game,
If Colin's Jenny be at hame.

My lady's white, my lady's red,
An' kith an' kin o' Cassillis' bluid;
But her ten-pund lands o'tocher gude
Were a' the charms his lordship lo'ed.

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

Sae sweetly move her gentle limbs,
Like music notes o’ lovers' hymns:
The diamond dew is her een sae blue,
Whare laughing love sae wanton swims.

My lady's dink, my lady's drest,
The flower an' fancy o' the west;
But the lassie that a man lo’es best,
Oh, that's the lass to mak’ him blest.

TO MARY.

TUNE—“Could aught of song.”'

Could aught of song declare my pains,

Could artful numbers move thee,
The muse should tell, in labour'd 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?

Oh, lay thy loof in mine, Lass.

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Then let the sudden bursting sigh

The heart-felt pang discover; And in the keen, yet tender eye,

Oh, read th' imploring lover! For well I know thy gentle mind

Disdains art's gay disguising; Beyond what fancy e'er refind,

The voice of nature prizing.

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OH, LAY THY LOOF IN MINE, LASS.

TUNE—“Cordwainer's march."

Oh, 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.
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.

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There's mony a ląss has broke my rest,
That for a blink I ha'e lo’ed best;
But thou art queen within my breast,

For ever to remain.
Oh, 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.

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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 forgiv'n;
For, sure, 'twere impious to despair,

So much in sight of heav'n.

GLOOMY DECEMBER..

TUNE—“Wandering Willie.”

ANCE mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December !

Ance mair I hail thee, wi' sorrow and care; Sad was the parting thou makes me remember,

Parting wi' Nancy, oh! ne'er to meet mair.

Cassillis' Banks.

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Fond lovers' parting is sweet painful pleasure,

Hope beaming mild on the soft parting hour; But the dire feeling, oh farewell for ever,

Is anguish unmingled and agony pure.

Wild as the winter now tearing the forest,

Till the last leaf o' the summer is flown, Such is the tempest has shaken my bosom,

Since my last hope and last comfort is gone. Still as I hail thee, thou gloomy December,

Still shall I hail thee wi' sorrow an' care; For sad was the parting thou makes me remember,

Parting wi' Nancy, oh! ne'er to meet mair.

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CASSILLIS' BANKS.

TUNE—“I ha'e laid a herrin' in saut."

Now banks an’ braes are claith'd in green,

An' scatter'd cowslips sweetly spring;
By Girvan's fairy-haunted stream

The birdies flit on wanton wing.
To Cassillis' banks, when e'ening fa's,

There wi' my Mary let me flee,
There catch her ilka glance o' love,

The bonnie blink o’ Mary's e’e !

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