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Canst thou leave me thus, my Katy ?


But by the sweet side o' the Nith's winding river

Are lovers as faithful an' maidens as fair: To equal young Jessie seek Scotland all over;

To equal young Jessie you seek it in vain; Grace, beauty, and elegance fetter her lover,

An' maidenly modesty fixes the chain.

Oh, fresh is the rose in the gay dewy morning,

An' sweet is the lily at evening close;
But in the fair presence o' lovely young Jessie

Unseen is the lily, unheeded the rose.
Love sits in her smile, a wizard ensnaring;

Enthron'd in her een he delivers his law :
An' still to her charms she alone is a stranger-

Her modest demeanour's the jewel of a’!



TUNE-“Roy's wife of Aldivalloch.”


CANST thou leave me thus, my Katy?
Canst thou leave me thus, my Katy?
Well thou know'st my aching heart,
And canst thou leave me thus for pity?

Is this thy plighted, fond regard,

Thus cruelly to part, my Katy?
Is this thy faithful swain's reward-

An aching, broken heart, my Katy?

Farewell ! and ne'er such sorrows tear

That fickle heart of thine, my Katy!
Thou mayst find those will love thee dear,

But not a love like mine, my Katy!


TUNE—“Failte na Miosg."

[“ The first half-stanza of this song is old, the rest is mine."--Burns. ]

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart's in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer;
Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe-
My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.
Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North,
The birthplace of valour, the country of worth;
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.

Farewell to the mountains high cover'd with snow; Farewell to the straths and green valleys below:

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My Heart's in the Highlands.


Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods; Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods..


My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart's in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer;
Chasing the wild deer and following the roe-
My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.

BONNIE JEAN. Tune-"Willie was a wanton wag,” or “Bonnie Jean.” [“The heroine of the following is Miss (Jean) M'Murdo), daughter to Mr. M (Murdo), of D rumlanrig!. I have not painted her in the rank which she holds in life, but in the dress and character of a cottager."-R.B.]

THERE was a lass, and she was fair,

At kirk and market to be seen;
When a’ the fairest maids were met,

The fairest maid was bonnie Jean.
An' aye she wrought her mammie's wark,

An'aye she sang sae merrilie:
The blithest bird upon the bush

Had ne'er a lighter heart than she.

But hawks will rob the tender joys

That bless the little lintwhite's nest;
An' frost will blight the fairest flowers ;

An' love will break the soundest rest.
Young Robie was the brawest lad,

The flower and pride of a' the glen;
An' he had owsen, sheep, an' kye,

An' wanton naigies nine or ten.

He gaed wi’ Jeanie to the tryste,

He danc'd wi' Jeanie on the down;
An' lang ere witless Jeanie wist,

Her heart was tint, her peace was stown.
As in the bosom o' the stream

The moonbeam dwells at dewy e'en;

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So trembling, pure, was tender love

Within the breast o' bonnie Jean.

An' now she works her mammie's wark,

An' aye she sighs wi' care an' pain; Yet wist na what her ail might be,

Or what wad mak' her weel again. But did na Jeanie's heart loup light,

An' did na joy blink in her e'e, As Robie tauld a tale o' love

Ae e’enin' on the lily lea?


The sun was sinking in the west,

The birds sang sweet in ilka grove; His cheek to hers he fondly prest,

An' whisper'd thus his tale o' love. “O Jeanie fair, I lo’e thee dear;

Oh, canst thou think to fancy me; Or wilt thou leave thy mammie's cot,

An' learn to tent the farms wi' me ?

“At barn or byre thou shalt na drudge,

Or naething else to trouble thee; But stray amang the heather bells,

An' tent the waving corn wi' me.”
Now, what could artless Jeanie do ?

She had nae will to say him na;
At length she blush'd a sweet consent,

An' love was aye between them twa.

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