SHE'S FAIR AND FAUSE.

Tune-"She's Fair and Fause."

SHE'S fair and fause that causes my smart,
I lo'ed her meikle and lang;

She's broken her vow, she's broken my heart,
And I may e'en gae hang.

A coof1 cam in wi' routh o' gear,2
And I hae tint 3 my dearest dear;
But woman is but warld's gear,
Sae let the bonny lassie gang.

Whae'er ye be that woman love,
To this be never blind,

Nae ferlie 'tis, though fickle she prove,
A woman has❜t by kind.

O woman, lovely woman fair!

An angel form's fa'n to thy share;
'Twad been o'er meikle to gien 5 thee mair-
I mean an angel mind.

The hunter lo'es the morning sun,
To rouse the mountain deer, my jo;
At noon the fisher seeks the glen,
Along the burn to steer, my jo;
Gie me the hour o' gloamin' gray,
It maks my heart sae cheery, O,
To meet thee on the lea-rig,
My ain kind dearie, O!

MY WIFE'S A WINSOME WEE THING.

SHE is a winsome wee thing,
She is a handsome wee thing,
She is a bonny wee thing,

This sweet wee wife o' mine.

I never saw a fairer,

I never lo'ed a dearer;

And neist my heart I'll wear her,
For fear my jewel tine.1

She is a winsome wee thing,
She is a handsome wee thing,
She is a bonny wee thing,

This sweet wee wife o' mine.

The warld's wrack we share o't,
The warstle and the care o't;
Wi' her I'll blithely bear it,
And think my lot divine.

HIGHLAND MARY.

Tune-"Katharine Ogie."

THIS is another magnificent expression of his passion for Highland Mary. Writing to Thomson, he says:-"The following song pleases me; I think it is in my happiest manner. The subject of the song is one of the most interesting assages of my youthful days; and I own that I should be much flattered to see the verses set to an air which would insure celebrity. Perhaps, after all, it is the still glowing prejudice of my heart that throws a borrowed lustre over the merits of the composition." See p. 353 for an account of Mary.

YE banks, and braes, and streams around

The castle o' Montgomery,

1 Be lost.

Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,

Your waters never drumlie!1

There simmer first unfauld her robes,

And there the langest tarry;

For there I took the last fareweel
O' my sweet Highland Mary.

How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk!
How rich the hawthorn's blossom!
As underneath their fragrant shade,
I clasp'd her to my bosom !
The golden hours, on angel wings,
Flew o'er me and my dearie;
For dear to me, as light and life,
Was my sweet Highland Mary!

Wi' mony a vow, and lock'd embrace,
Our parting was fu' tender;
And, pledging aft to meet again,
We tore oursels asunder;

But, oh! fell Death's untimely frost,
That nipt my flower sae early !—
Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay,
That wraps my Highland Mary!

Oh, pale, pale now, those rosy lips,
I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly!
And closed for aye the sparkling glance
That dwelt on me sae kindly!
And mouldering now in silent dust
That heart that lo'ed me dearly-

But still within my bosom's core
Shall live my Highland Mary!

AULD ROB MORRIS.

THE two first lines of the following belong to an old ballad-the rest is the poet's.

THERE'S auld Rob Morris that wons 2 in yon glen,
He's the king o' guid fellows and wale3 of auld men;
He has gowd in his coffers, he has owsen and kine,
And ae bonny lassie, his darling and mine.

She's fresh as the morning the fairest in May;
She's sweet as the evening amang the new hay;
As blithe and as artless as lambs on the lea,
And dear to my heart as the light to my ee.

1 Muddy.

2 Dwells.

3 Choice.

But oh! she's an heiress,-auld Robin's a laird,
And my daddie has nought but a cot-house and yard;
A wooer like me maunna hope to come speed;
The wounds I must hide that will soon be my dead.1

The day comes to me, but delight brings me nane ;
The night comes to me, but my rest it is gane:
I wander my lane like a night-troubled ghaist,
And I sigh as my heart it wad burst in my breast.

Oh, had she but been of a lower degree,

I then might hae hoped she'd hae smiled upon me!
Oh, how past descriving had then been my bliss,
As now my distraction no words can express !

COCK UP YOUR BEAVER.

Tune-"Cock up your beaver."

THE second verse of this song is Burns's-the first is old.

WHEN first my brave Johnnie lad

Came to this town,

He had a blue bonnet

That wanted the crown;

But now he has gotten
A hat and a feather,-
Hey, brave Johnnie lad,
Cock up your beaver!

Cock up your beaver,
And cock it fu' sprush,
We'll over the Border

And gie them a brush;

There's somebody there

We'll teach better behaviour

Hey, brave Johnnie lad,

Cock up your beaver !

BONNY PEG.

THE following lines first appeared in the Edinburgh Magazine for 1818

As I came in by our gate end,

As day was waxin' weary,

1 Death,