AWA WHIGS, AWA.

CHORUS. Awa Whigs, awa!
Awa Whigs, awa!

Ye're but a pack o' traitor louns,
Ye'll do nae good at a'.

UR thrissles flourish'd fresh and fair,

OUR

And bonie bloom'd our roses;

But Whigs came like a frost in June,
And wither'd a' our posies.

Awa Whigs, awa!

Awa Whigs, awa!

Ye're but a pack o' traitor louns,
Ye'll do nae good at a'.

Our ancient crown's fa'en in the dust;
Deil blin' them wi' the stoure o't!

And write their names in his black beuk,
Wha gae the Whigs the power o't.
Awa Whigs, etc.

Our sad decay in church and state

Surpasses my descriving :

The Whigs cam o'er us for a curse,
And we hae done wi' thriving.
Awa Whigs, etc.

Grim Vengeance lang has ta'en a nap,
But we may see him wauken:
Gude help the day when Royal heads
Are hunted like a mauken!

Awa Whigs, awa!

Awa Whigs, awa!

Ye're but a pack o' traitor louns,

Ye'll do nae gude at a'.

BRAW LADS OF GALLA WATER.

TUNE-"Galla Water."

CHORUS. Braw, braw lads of Galla Water;
O braw lads of Galla Water:

I'll kilt my coats aboon my knee,

And follow my love through the water.

AE fair her hair, sae brent her brow,

SAE

Sae bonie blue her een, my dearie;

Sae white her teeth, sae sweet her mou',

The mair I kiss she's ay my dearie.

O'er yon bank and o'er yon brae,

O'er yon moss amang the heather;
I'll kilt my coats aboon my knee,

And follow my love through the water.

Down amang the broom, the broom,
Down amang the broom, my dearie,
The lassie lost a silken snood,

That cost her mony a blirt and bleary.
Braw, braw lads of Galla Water;

O braw lads of Galla Water:

I'll kilt my coats aboon my knee,

And follow my love through the water.

COM

'OMING through the rye, poor body,
Coming through the rye,

She draiglet a' her petticoatie,

Coming through the rye.

Jenny's a' wat, poor body,

Jenny's seldom dry;

She draiglet a' her petticoatie,

Coming through the rye.

wer

Gin 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 world ken?

Jenny's a' wat, poor body;
Jenny's seldom dry;

She draiglet a' her petticoatie,
Coming through the rye.

HEY, THE DUSTY MILLER.

TUNE-"The Dusty Miller."

HEY, the Dusty Miller,

And his dusty coat;

He will win a shilling,

Or he spend a groat.

Dusty was the coat,

Dusty was the colour,

Dusty was the kiss

That I got frae the Miller.

Hey, the dusty Miller,

And his dusty sack;
Leeze me on the calling
Fills the dusty peck:
Fills the dusty peck,
Brings the dusty siller;

I wad gie my coatie

For the dusty Miller.

I

THE CARDIN' O'T.

TUNE-"Salt Fish and Dumplings."

COFT a stane o' haslock woo',

To make a wab to Johnie o't;

For Johnie is my only jo,

I lo'e him best of onie yet.

The cardin' o't, the spinnin' o't,
The warpin' o't, the winnin' o't;
When ilka ell cost me a groat,

The taylor staw the lynin o't.

For though his locks be lyart gray, And though his brow be beld aboon,

Yet I hae seen him on a day

The pride of a' the parishen.