THERE WAS A LASS. TUNE-Duncan Davison. THERE was a lass, they ca'd her Meg, 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, When ye set by the wheel at e'en, And aye be welcome back again. THINE I AM, MY FAITHFUL FAIR. To thy bosom lay my heart. Take away these rosy lips, Rich with balmy treasure: What is life when wanting love? THOUGH CRUEL FATE. THOUGH cruel Fate should bid us part, As far's the Pole and Line, Though mountains frown and deserts howl, 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 Yestreen I met you on the moor, I doubt na, lass, but ye may think, But sorrow tak him that's sae mean That looks sae proud and high. Altho' a lad were e'er sae smart, But if he hae the came o' gear, But, Tibbie, lass, tak my advice, There lives a lass in yonder park, "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, Mary, I'm thine wi' a passion sincerest, TO MARY IN HEAVEN. TUNE-Death of Captain Cook. THOU ling'ring star, with less'ning ray, My Mary from my soul was torn. Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast? |