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Till Charlie Stuart cam at last,
Sae far to set us free;

My Donald's arm was wanted then
For Scotland and for me.

Their waefu' fate what need I tell?
Right to the wrang did yield:
My Donald and his country fell
Upon Culloden field.

Och-on, O Donald, oh!

Och-on, och-on, och-rie!
Nae woman in the warld wide
Sae wretched now as me.

THERE WAS A BONNY LASS.

THERE was a bonny lass,

And a bonny, bonny lass,

And she lo'ed her bonny laddie dear;
Till war's loud alarms

Tore her laddie frae her arms,
Wi' mony a sigh and a tear.

Over sea, over shore,

Where the cannons loudly roar,
He still was a stranger to fear;
And nocht could him quail,
Or his bosom assail,

But the bonny lass he lo'ed sae dear.

OH, WAT YE WHAT MY MINNIE DID?

OH, wat ye what my minnie did,
My minnie did, my minnie did,
Oh, wat ye what my minnie did,
On Tysday 'teen to me, jo?
She laid me in a saft bed,
A saft bed, a saft bed,

She laid me in a saft bed,

And bade guid e'en to me, jo.

And wat ye what the parson did,

The parson did, the parson did,

And wat ye what the parson did,
A' for a penny fee, jo?

He loosed on me a lang man,

A mickle man, a strang man,
He loosed on me a lang man,
That might hae worried me, jo.
And I was but a young thing,
A young thing, a young thing,
And I was but a young thing,
Wi' nane to pity me, jo.
I wat the kirk was in the wyte,1
In the wyte, in the wyte,
To pit a young thing in a fright,
And loose a man on me, jo.

OH, GUID ALE COMES.

CHORUS

OH, guid ale comes, and guid ale goes,
Guid ale gars2 me sell my hose,
Sell my hose, and pawn my shoon,
Guid ale keeps my heart aboon.

I had sax owsen in a pleugh,
They drew a' weel eneugh;
I sell'd them a' just ane by ane;
Guid ale keeps my heart aboon.

Guid ale hauds me bare and busy,
Gars me moop3 wi' the servant hizzie,*
Stand i' the stool when I hae done;
Guid ale keeps my heart aboon.

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His haly lips wat like a be

Off she started in a fit

And through the bries as the of bicker

But souple Domuld pricker few.

And in his arms be lock & her nez

1 Head.

2 Run.

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And dogs like broo,

Lads like lasses weel,

And lasses lads too.

We're a' noddin, nid, nid, noddin,
We're a' noddin at our house at hame.

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YOUNG JAMIE, PRIDE OF A' THE PLAIN.
Tune-"The Carlin o' the Glen."

YOUNG Jamie, pride of a' the plain,
Sae gallant and sae gay a swain;
Through a' our lasses he did rove,
And reign'd resistless king of love :
But now, wi' sighs and starting tears,
He strays among the woods and briers ;
Or in the glens and rocky caves,
His sad complaining dowie raves :
"I wha sae late did range and rove,
And changed with every moon my love,
I little thought the time was near
Repentance I should buy sae dear :
The slighted maids my torments see,
And laugh at a' the pangs I dree;1
While she, my cruel, scornfu' fair,
Forbids me e'er to see her mair!"

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COMING THROUGH THE RYE.

Tune-" Coming through the rye."
COMING through the rye, poor body,
Coming through the rye,
She draiglet' a' her petticoatie,
Coming through the rye.

O Jenny's a' wat, poor body,
Jenny's seldom dry;
She draiglet a' her petticoatie,
Coming through the rye.

Gin3 a body meet a body
Coming through the rye;
Gin a body kiss a body-
Need a body cry?

Gin a body meet a body
Coming through the glen;
Gin a body kiss a body-
Need the warld ken?

THE CARLES OF DYSART.

Tune-"Hey, ca' through."

UP wi' the carles1 o' Dysart
And the lads o' Buckhaven,

2 Soiled.

3 If.

4 Old men.

MM

And the kimmers1 o' Largo,
And the lasses o' Leven.

Hey, ca' through, ca'2 through,
For we hae mickle ado;
Hey, ca' through, ca' through,
For we hae mickle ado.

We hae tales to tell,

And we hae sangs to sing;
We hae pennies to spend,
And we hae pints to bring.

We'll live a' our days,

And them that come behin',
Let them do the like,

And spend the gear they win.

IS THERE, FOR HONEST POVERTY.

Tune-"For a' that and a' that."

BURNS had too good an idea of his own powers to have been serious in his depreciation of this fine song. He says:-"A great critic on songs says that love and wine are the exclusive themes for song-writing. The following is on neither subject, and is consequently no song; but will be allowed, I think, to be two or three pretty good prose thoughts inverted into rhyme."

Is there, for honest poverty,

That hangs his head, and a' that?
The coward slave, we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a' that!
For a' that, and a' that,

Our toils obscure, and a' that;

The rank is but the guinea-stamp,

The man's the gowd for a' that!

What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hodden gray, and a' that;

Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,
A man's a man for a' that!

For a' that, and a' that,

Their tinsel show and a' that;

The honest man, though e'er sae poor,
Is king o' men for a' that!

Ye see yon birkie,* ca'd a lord,

Wha struts, and stares, and a' that ;

1 Young women.

2 Push.

* Literally the phrase means a mettlesome fellow: here it must be rendered

a proud and affected fellow.

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