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An' when the welcome simmer shower Has cheer'd ilk drooping little flower, We'll to the breathing woodbine bower At sultry noon, my dearie, O.

When Cynthia lights, wi' silver ray, The weary shearer's hameward way, Thro' yellow waving fields we'll stray, An' talk o' love, my dearie, O.

An' when the howling wintry blast
Disturbs my lassie's midnight rest,
Enclasped to my faithful breast,
I'll comfort thee, my dearie, O.

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TUNE-"My jo, Janet."

‘HUSBAND, husband, cease your strife, Nor longer idly rave, sir;

Tho' I am your wedded wife,

Yet I am not your slave, sir."

"One of two must still obey, Nancy, Nancy;

Is it man, or woman, say,

My spouse, Nancy?"

My spouse, Nancy.

"If 'tis still the lordly word,

Service and obedience;
I'll desert my sov'reign lord,
And so good-bye allegiance!"

"Sad will I be, so bereft,
Nancy, Nancy,

Yet I'll try to make a shift,

My spouse, Nancy."

"My poor heart then break it must,

My last hour I'm near it; When you lay me in the dust,

Think, think how you will bear it."

"I will hope and trust in heaven,

Nancy, Nancy;

Strength to bear it will be given,
My spouse, Nancy."

"Well, sir, from the silent dead,
Still I'll try to daunt you;
Ever round your midnight bed
Horrid sprites shall haunt you."

"I'll wed another like my dear,

Nancy, Nancy;

Then all hell will fly for fear,

My spouse, Nancy."


TUNE-"The lea rig."

WHEN o'er the hill the eastern star
Tells bughtin' time is near, my jo;
An' owsen frae the furrow'd field
Return sae dowf an' weary, O;
Down by the burn, where scented birks
Wi' dew are hanging clear, my jo,
I'll meet thee on the lea rig,
My ain kind dearie, O.

In mirkest glen, at midnight hour,
I'd rove, an' ne'er be earie, O,
If thro' that glen I gaed to thee,
My ain kind dearie, O.

Altho' the night was ne'er sae wild,
An' I were ne'er sae weary, O,
I'd meet thee on the lea rig,
My ain kind dearie, O.

The hunter lo'es the morning sun,
To rouse the mountain deer, my jo:
At noon the fisher seeks the glen,

Along the burn to steer, my jo;
Gi'e me the hour o' gloamin' gray,

It mak's my heart sae cheery, O,
To meet me on the lea rig,
My ain kind dearie, O.

Contented wi' little.


TUNE-"Blue bonnets."

POWERS celestial! whose protection
Ever guards the virtuous fair,
While in distant climes I wander,
Let my Mary be your care:
Let her form sae fair and faultless,
Fair and faultless as your own,
Let my Mary's kindred spirit,


your choicest influence down.

Make the gales you waft around her
Soft and peaceful as her breast,
Breathing in the breeze that fans her,
Soothe her bosom into rest:
Guardian angels! oh protect her,
When in distant lands I roam;

To realms unknown while fate exiles me,
Make her bosom still my home!



TUNE-"Lumps o' pudding."

CONTENTED wi' little, an' cantie wi' mair,
Whene'er I forgather wi' sorrow an' care,
I gi'e them a skelp, as they 're creepin' alang,
Wi' a cog o' gude swats an' an auld Scottish sang.

I whiles claw the elbow o' troublesome thought; But man is a sodger, an' life is a faught:

My mirth an' good humour are coin in my pouch, An' my freedom's my lairdship nae monarch dare touch.

A towmond o' trouble, should that be my fa',
A night o' gude fellowship sowthers it a':
When at the blithe end of our journey at last,
Wha the de'il ever thinks o' the road he has past?

Blind chance, let her snapper an' stoyte on her way; Be 't to me, be 't frae me, e'en let the jade gae; Come ease or come travail, come pleasure or pain, My warst word is—“Welcome, an' welcome again!"

TUNE-"Gilderoy; or Donald."

["To the heroine of this song the poet's thoughts turned when, rejected by Jean Armour, he wrote his pathetic 'Lament.'


name was Elizabeth Barbour, handsome rather than beautiful, very lively, and of ready wit."-Cunningham.]

FROM thee, Eliza, I must go,

And from my native shore,

The cruel Fates between us throw

A boundless ocean's roar:

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