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THERE WAS A LASS.

TUNE-Duncan Davison.

THERE was a lass, they ca'd her Meg,
And she held o'er the moors to spin;
There was a lad that follow'd her,
They ca'd him Duncan Davison.
The moor was driegh, and Meg was skiegh,
Her favour Duncan could na win;
For wi' the rock she wad him knock,
And aye she shook the temper-pin.

As o'er the moor they lightly foor,

A burn was clear, a glen was green, Upon the banks they eas'd their shanks, And aye she set the wheel between : But Duncan swore a haly aith

That Meg should be a bride the morn, Then Meg took up her spinnin' graith, And flang them a' out o'er the burn.

We'll big a house-a wee, wee house,
And we will live like king and queen,
Sae blythe and merry we will be

When ye set by the wheel at e'en,
A man may drink and no be drunk ;
A man may fight and no be slain ;
A man may kiss a bonnie lass,

And aye be welcome back again.

THINE I AM, MY FAITHFUL FAIR.
TUNE-Liggeram Cosh [the Quaker's wife].
THINE am I, my faithful fair,
Thine, my lovely Nancy;
Ev'ry pulse along my veins,
Ev'ry roving fancy.

To thy bosom lay my heart.
There to throb and languish :
Tho' despair had wrung its core,
That would heal its anguish.

Take away these rosy lips,

Rich with balmy treasure:
Turn away thine eyes of love,
Lest I die with pleasure.

What is life when wanting love?
Night without a morning :
Love's the cloudless summer sun,
Nature gay adorning.

THOUGH CRUEL FATE.

THOUGH cruel Fate should bid us part,

As far's the Pole and Line,
Her dear idea round my heart.
Should tenderly entwine.

Though mountains frown and deserts howl,
And oceans roar between ;
Yet, dearer than my deathless soul,

I still would love my Jean.

THOU HAST LEFT ME EVER.

TUNE-Fee him, father.

THOU hast left me ever, Jamie, thou hast left

me ever,

Thou hast left me ever, Jamie, thou hast left

me ever;

Aften hast thou yow'd that death only should us sever,

Now thou's left thy lass for aye-I maun see thee never, Jamie,

I'll see thee never.

Thou hast me forsaken, Jamie, thou hast me forsaken,

Thou hast me forsaken, Jamie, thou hast me forsaken ;

Thou canst love anither, jo, while my heart is breaking;

lose-never mair to

Soon my weary een I'll close

waken, Jamie,

Ne'er mair to waken.

TIBBIE, I HAE SEEN THE DAY.

TUNE-Invercauld's Reel.

OH Tibbie, I hae seen the day
Ye wad na been sae shy;
For lack o' gear ye lightly me,
But, trowth, I care na a bỵ.

Yestreen I met you on the moor,
Ye spak na, but gaed by like stoure;
Ye geck at me because I'm poor,
But fient a hair care I.

I doubt na, lass, but ye may think,
Because ye hae the name o' clink,
That ye can please me at a wink,
Whene'er ye like to try.

But sorrow tak him that's sae mean
Altho' his pouch o' coin were clean,
Wha follows ony saucy quean,

That looks sae proud and high.

Altho' a lad were e'er sae smart,
If that he want the yellow dirt,
Ye'll cast your head another airt,
And answer him fu' dry.

But if he hae the came o' gear,
Ye'll fasten to him like a brier,
Tho' hardly he, for sense or lear,
Be better than the kye.

But, Tibbie, lass, tak my advice,
Your daddie's gear maks you sae nice;
The deil a ane wad spier your price,
Were ye as poor as I.

There lives a lass in yonder park,
I would na gie her in het sark,
For thee, wi' a' thy thousan' mark;
Ye need na look sae high.

"TWAS NA HER BONNIE BLUE EE WAS MY RUIN.

TUNE-Laddie, lie near me.

'Twas na her bonnie blue ee was my ruin; Fair tho' she be, that was ne'er my undoing : 'Twas the dear smile when naebody did mind us,

'Twas the bewitching, sweet, stown glance o' kindness.

Sair do I fear that to hope is denied me,
Sair do I fear that despair maun abide me;
But tho' fell fortune should fate us to sever,
Queen shall she be in my bosom for ever.

Mary, I'm thine wi' a passion sincerest,
And thou hast plighted me love the dearest !
And thou art the angel that never can alter,
Sooner the sun in his motion would falter.

TO MARY IN HEAVEN.

TUNE-Death of Captain Cook.

THOU ling'ring star, with less'ning ray,
That lov'st to greet the early morn,
Again thou usher'st in the day

My Mary from my soul was torn.
Oh Mary! dear departed shade!
Where is thy place of blissful rest?
See'st thou thy lover lowly laid!

Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?

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