Fain would I hide what I fear to discover, Yet long, long too well have I known, All that bas caused this wreck in my bosom, Is Jenny, fair Jenny alone. Time cannot aid me, my griefs are immortal, Nor hope dare a comfort bestow : guish, WHISTLE AND I'LL COME TO YOU, MY LAD. TUNE-Whistle and I'll come to you, my Lad. Oh whistle and I'll come to you, my lad, Oh whistle and I'll come to you, my lad ; Tho' father and mither and a' should gae mad, Oh whịstle and I'll come to you, my lad. But warily tent, when ye come to court me, And come na unless the back-yett be a-jee; Syne up the back-stile, and let naebody see, And come as ye were na comin' to me. And come, &c. At kirk, or at market, whene'er ye meet me, Gang by me as tho' that ye car'd nae a flie ; But steal me a blink o' your bonnie black ee, Yet look as ye were na lookin' at me. Yet look, &c. Aye vow and protest that ye care na for me, WHY, WHY, TELL THY LOVER. TUNE-The Caledonian Hunt's Delight. Bliss he never must enjoy? And give all his hopes the lie? Chloris, Chloris all the theme, Wake thy lover from his dream ? WILLIE WASTLE. TUNE-The Eight Men of Moidart. WILLIE WASTLE dwalt on Tweed, The spot they called it Linkum-doddie ; Willie was a wabster guid, Cou'd stown a clew wi' ony bodie. He had a wife was dour und din, Oh Tinkler Madgié was her mither; Sic a wife as Willie had, I wad na gie a button for her. She has an ee-she has but ane, The cat has twa the very colour ; Five rusty teeth, forbye a stump, A clapper-tongue wad deave a miller: A whiskin beard about her mou', Her nose and chin they threaten itherSic a wife as Willie had, I wad na gie a button for her. Ae limpin' leg a hand-breed shorter ; To balance fair in ilka quarter : She has a hump upon her breast, The twin o' that upon her shouther; Sic a wife as Willie had, I wad na gie a button for her. Auld baudrons by the ingle sits, And wi' her loof her face a-washin'; But Willie's wife is nae sae trig, She dights her grunzie wi' a hushion; Her walie nieves like midden-creels, Her face wad fyle the Logan-Water Sic a wife as Willie had, I wad nae gie a button for her. a WILL YE GO TO THE INDIES, MY MARY. Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary, And leave auld Scotia's shore? Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary, Across the Atlantic's roar Oh sweet grow the lime and the orange, And the apple on the pine ; But a' the charms o' the Indies Can never equal thine. I hae sworn by the Heavens to my Mary, I hae sworn by the Heavens to be true; And sae may the Heavens forget me, When I forget my vow ! And plight me your lily-white hand; Before I leave Scotia's strand. In mutual affection to join ; The hour and the moment o' time! WILT THOU BE MY DEARIE ? AIR-The Sutor's Dochter. Say na thou'lt refuse me: YE JACOBITES BY NAME. TUNE-Ye Jacobites by name. YE jacobites by name, give an ear, give an ear; Ye jacobites by name, give an ear; Ye jacobites by name, Your fautes I will proclaim, Your doctrines I maun blame You shall hear. What is right and what is wrang, by the law, by the law ? What is right and what is wrang by the law? What is right and what is wrang ? A short sword and a lang, A weak arm and a strang For to draw. afar? Wi' blaidie war. |