YE BANKS, AND BRAES, AND STREAMS

YE

AROUND.

TUNE-"Katharine Ogie."

E banks, and braes, and streams around
The castle of Montgomery,

Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,

Your waters never drumlie !

There simmer first unfauld her robes,

And there the langest tarry : For there I took the last farewell 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 !

O pale, pale now,

those rosy lips

I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly!

And closed for ay, the sparkling glance
That dwalt 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 LANG SYNE.

HOULD auld acquaintance be forgot,

And never brought to min'?

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And auld lang syne?

CHORUS.

For auld lang syne my dear,

For auld lang syne,

We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,

For auld lang syne.

And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp!
And surely I'll be mine!

And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

For auld, etc.

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pou'd the gowans fine;
But we've wander'd mony a weary fitt
Sin' auld lang syne.

For auld, etc.

We twa hae paidlet i' the burn,

Fra' morning sun till dine;

But seas between us braid hae roar'd

Sin' auld lang syne.

For auld, etc.

And there's a hand, my trusty fiere i

And gie's a hand o' thine!

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

For auld lang syne.

For auld, etc.

BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY

S

AT BANNOCKBURN.

TUNE-"Hey tuttie tattie."

COTS, wha hae wi' Wallace bled!
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led!

Welcome to your gory bed,

Or to Victorie!

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

See approach proud Edward's power,—
Chains and Slavery !

Wha will be a traitor knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a Slave?
Let him turn and flee !

Wha for Scotland's King and Law,
Freedom's sword will strongly draw;
Free-man stand, or Free-man fa',
Let him on wi' me.

By oppression's woes and pains!
By your Sons in servile chains!
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall be Free!

Lay the proud Usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty's in every blow!

Let us Do or Die !!!

So may God ever defend the cause of Truth and Liberty, as he did that day! Amen!-R. B.

FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT.

S there, for honest poverty

Is

That hangs his head, an' a' that;

The coward-slave, we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a' that!
For a' that, an' a' that,

Our toils obscure and a' that,
The rank is but a guinea's stamp ;
The Man's the gowd for a' that.

What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin grey, an' a' that;

Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,
A Man's a Man for a' that: