But by the moon and stars so bright,

That shone that hour so clearly !
She aye shall bless that happy night,

Amang the rigs o' barley.
I hae been blythe wi' comrades dear :

I hae been merry drinkin';
I hae been joyfu' gath'rin' gear ;

I hae been happy thinkin':
But a' the pleasures e'er I saw,

Tho' three times doubl'd fairly,
That happy night was worth them a',
Amang the rigs o' barley.

CHORUS
Corn rigs, and barley rigs,

And corn rigs are bonnie :
I'll ne'er forget that happy night

Amang the rigs with Annie.

THE SMILING SPRING.

TUNE—The Bonny Bell.
The smiling spring comes in rejoicing,

And surly winter grimly flies ;
Now crystal clear are the falling waters,

And bonnie blue are the sunny skies. Fresh o'er the mountains breaks forth the

morning, The ev’ning gilds the ocean's swell; All creatures joy in the sun's returning,

And I rejoice in my bonnie Bell.

The flowery spring leads sunny summer,

And yellow autumn presses near, Then in his turn comes gloomy winter,

Till smiling spring again appear. Thus seasons dancing, life advancing,

Old Time and Nature their changes tell,
But never ranging, still unchanging,
I adore my bonnie Bell,
THE SOLDIER'S RETURN.

AIR-The Mill, Mill 0.
When wild war's deadly blast was blawn,

And gentle peace returning,
Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless,

And mony a widow mourning :
I left the lines and tented field,

Where lang I'd been a lodger,
My humble knapsack a' my wealth,

A poor but honest sodger.
A leal, light heart was in my breast,

My hand unstain'd wi' plunder:
And for fair Scotia, hame again,

I cheery on did wander.
I thought upon the banks o' Coil,

I thought upon my Nancy;
I thought upon the witching smile

That caught my youthful fancy.
At length I reach'd the bonnie glen

Where early life I sported;
I pass'd the mill, and trysting thorn,

Where Nancy aft I courted :

Wha spied I but my ain dear maid

Down by her mother's dwelling! And turn'd me round to hide the flood

That in my een was swelling. Wi' alter'd voice, quoth I, “ Sweet lass,

Sweet as yon hawthorn's blossom, Oh! happy, happy may he be,

That's dearest to thy bosom! My purse is light, I've far to gang,

And fain would be thy lodger ;
I've served my king and country lang-

Take pity on a sodger !”
Sae wistfully she gazed on me,

And lovelier was than ever ;
Quo' she, “ A sodger ance I loe'd,

Forget him shall I never :
Our humble cot and hamely fare

Ye freely shall partake o't;
That gallant badge, the dear cockade,

Ye're welcome for the sake o't."
She gaz'd-she redden'd like a rose-

Syne pale like ony lily ;
She sank within my arms, and cried,

“ Art thou my ain dear Willie?" “By Him who made yon sun and sky,

By whom true love's regarded, I am the man; and thus may still

True lovers be rewarded, The wars are o'er, and I'm come hame,

And find thee still true-hearted ! Tho' poor in gear, we're rich in love,

And mair we'se ne'er he narted."

Quo' she, “ My grandsire left me gowd,

A mailen plenish'a fairly ;
And come, my faithfu' sodger lad,

Thou'rt welcome to it dearly.”
For gold the merchant ploughs the main,

The farmer ploughs the manor ;
But glory is the sodger's prize,

The sodger's wealth is honour.
The brave poor sodger ne'er despise,

Nor count him as a stranger;
Remember he's bis country's stay

In day and hour of danger.

THE SONS OF OLD KILLIE.

TUNE-Shawnboy. YE sons of old Killie, assembled by Willie,

To follow the noble vocation; Your thrifty old mother has scarce such

another To sit in that honoured station. I've little to say, but only to pray,

As praying's the ton of your fashion ; A prayer from the muse you well may excuse,

'Tis seldom her favourite passion. Ye powers who preside o'er the wind and the

tide, Who marked each element's border; Who formed this frame with beneficent aim,

Whose sovereign statute is order ;

Within this dear mansion may wayward con

Or withered envy ne'er enter ; [tention May secrecy round be the mystical bound,

And brotherly love be the centre.

THE TITHER MORN.

To a Highland Air. The tither morn, when I forlorn

Aneath an aik sat moaning, I did na trow, I'd see my jo,

Beside me, gain the gloaming. But he sae trig, lap o'er the rig,

And dawtingly did cheer me, When I, what reck, did least expec',

To see my lad so near me. His bonnet he, a thought ajee,

Cock'd sprush when first he clasp'd me; And I, I wat, wi' fainness grat,

While in his grips he press’d me. Deil tak the war ! I late and air,

Hae wish'd since Jock departed ; But now as glad I'm wi' my lad,

As short syne broken-hearted. Fu' aft at e'en wi' dancing keen,

When a' were blythe and merry,
I car'd na by, sae sad was I,

In absence o' my dearie.
But, praise be blest, my mind's at rest,

I'm happy wi' my Johnny :
At kirk and fair, I'se aye be there,

And be as canty's ony.