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Yestreen I met you on the moor,
But fient a hair care I.
Whene'er ye like to try.
That looks sae proud and high.
And answer hita fu' dry.
Be better than the kye.
Were ye as poor as I.
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?
That sacred hout can I forget,
Can I forget the hallowed grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met,
To live one day of parting love! Eternity will not efface
Those records dear of transports past; Thy image at our last embrace,
Ah! little thought we 'twas our last ! Ayr. gurgling, kiss'd his pebbled shore,
O'erhung with wild woods thick’ning green; The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar,
Twin'd am'rous round the raptur'd scene; The flow'rs sprang wanton to be prest,
The birds sang love on every sprayTill too, too soon, the glowing west
Proclaim'd the speed of winged day. Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakés,
And fondly broods with miser care! Time but th' impression stronger makes,
As streams their channels deeper wear. My 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
TO THEE, LOVED NITH.
Where late wi' careless thought I rang'd, Though prest wi’ care and sunk in woe,
thee I bring a heart unchar:'!
I love thee, Nith, thy banks and braes,
Tho' memory there my bosom tear; For there he rov'd that brake my heart,
Yet to that heart, ah! still how dear!
UP IN THE MORNING EARLY.
TUNE-Cold blows the Wind.
Up in the morning early;
I'm sure it's winter fairly.
The drift is driving sairly;
I'm sure it's winter fairly.
A' day they fare but sparely ;
I'm sure it's winter fairly:
WAE IS MY HEART.
TUNE-Wae is my heart. Was is my heart, and the tear's in my ee; Lang, lang, joy's been a stranger to me: Forsaken and friendless, my burden I bear, And the sweet voice o' pity ne'er sounds in Love, thou hast pleasures and deep hae I
loved ; Love, thou hast sorrows, and sair hae I
proved : But this bruised heart that now bleeds in my
breast, I can feel its throbbings will soon be at rest. Oh, if I were happy, where happy I hae been, Down by yon stream, and yon bonnie castle
green ; For there he is wand'ring, and musing on me, Wha wad soon dry the tear frae Phillis's ee.
WANDERING WILLIE. HERE awa, there awa, wandering Willie, Here awa, there awa,
haud awa hame; Come to my bosom, my ain only dearie, Tell me thou bring'st me my Willie the same. Winter-winds blew loud and cauld at our
parting, Fears for my Willie brought tears in my ee; Welcome now simmerand welcome my Willie, The simmer to nature, my Willie to me. Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave of your
slumbers, How your dread howling a lover alarms ! Wauken, ye breezes ! row gently, ye billows ! And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my