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LADY ONLIE.

A' THE lads o' Thornie-bank,

When they gae to the shore o' Bucky, They'll step in an' tak a pint

Wi' Lady Onlie, honest Lucky.
Lady Onlie, honest Lucky,

Brews guid ale at shore o' Bucky;
I wish her sale for her guid ale,
The best on a' the shore o' Bucky.

Her house sae bien, her curch sae clean,
I wat she is a dainty chucky;
And cheerlie blinks the ingle-gleed
Of Lady Onlie, honest Lucky!
Lady Onlie, honest Lucky,

Brews guid ale at shore o' Bucky;
I wish her sale for her guid ale,
The best on a' the shore o' Bucky.

THE CARLES OF DYSART.

UP wi' the carles o' Dysart,
And the lads o' Buckhaven,
And the kimmers o' Largo,
And the lasses o' Leven.

Hey, ca' through, ca' 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.

AULD LANG SYNE.

SHOULD auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to min'?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days o' lang syne?

For auld lang syne, my dear,

For auld lang syne,

We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne?

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pu't the gowans fine;

But we've wandered mony a weary foot

Sin auld lang syne.

We twa hae paidl't i' the burn,

Frae mornin' sun till dine;

But seas between us braid hae roared

Sin auld lang syne.

And here's a hand, my trustie fiere,

And gie's a hand o' thine;

And we'll tak a right guid willie-waught,

For auld lang syne.

And surely ye'll be your pint-stoup,

And surely I'll be mine;

And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet

For auld lang syne.

BY ALLAN STREAM.

By Allan stream I chanced to rove,
While Phoebus sank beyond Benleddi;
The winds were whispering through the grove,
The yellow corn was waving ready:

I listened to a lover's sang,

And thought on youthfu' pleasures mony; And aye the wild-wood echoes rang

O dearly do I love thee, Annie!

O happy be the woodbine bower!
Nae nightly bogle make it eerie;
Nor ever sorrow stain the hour,

The place and time I met my dearie!
Her head upon my throbbing breast,
She, sinking, said, 'I'm thine for ever!'
While mony a kiss the seal imprest,

The sacred vow, we ne'er should sever.

The haunt o' Spring's the primrose brae,
The Simmer joys the flocks to follow;
How cheery through her shortening day
Is Autumn in her weeds o' yellow!
But can they melt the glowing heart,

Or chain the soul in speechless pleasure,
Or through each nerve the rapture dart,
Like meeting her, our bosom's treasure?

PHILLIS THE FAIR.

WHILE larks, with little wing,
Fanned the pure air,

Tasting the breathing spring,
Forth I did fare;

Gay the sun's golden eye
Peeped o'er the mountains high;
Such thy morn! did I cry,

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Chance led me there:

Sweet to the opening day,
Rosebuds bent the dewy spray;
Such thy bloom! did I say,
Phillis the fair.

Down in a shady walk,
Doves cooing were;
I marked the cruel hawk
Caught in a snare;
So kind may Fortune be-
Such make his destiny-
He who would injure thee,
Phillis the fair.

HAD I A CAVE.

HAD I a cave on some wild distant shore,
Where the winds howl to the waves' dashing roar;

There would I weep my woes,

There seek my lost repose,

Till grief my eyes should close,
Ne'er to wake more.

Falsest of womankind, canst thou declare,
All thy fond-plighted vows-fleeting as air?

To thy new lover hie,
Laugh o'er thy perjury,
Then in thy bosom try

What peace is there!

THOU HAST LEFT ME EVER.

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 vowed that death only should us sever, Now thou'st 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 another jo, while my heart is breaking; Soon my weary een I'll close, never mair to waken, Jamie, Ne'er mair to waken.

BANNOCKBURN.

BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY.

Scors, wha hae wi' Wallace bled!

Scots, wham Bruce has aften led!
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to glorious victorie!

Now's the day, and now's the hour;
See the front o' battle lower!

See approach proud Edward's power-
Edward! chains and slaverie!

Wha will be a traitor knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a slave?

Traitor! coward! turn and flee!

Wha for Scotland's king and law
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Free-man stand, or free-man fa',

Caledonian! on wi' me!

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