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But oh, if he's faithless, and minds na his

Nannie, Flow still between us thou wide-roaring main! May I never see it, may I never trow it, But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain!

WHARE HAE YE BEEN.

TUNE-Killiecrankie. WHARE hae ye been sae braw, lad ?

Where hae ye been sae brankie, 0 ? Oh, where hae ye been sae braw, lad ?

Cam ye by Killiecrankie, O ? An ye had been where I hae been,

Ye wad na been sae cantie, O; An ye had seen what I hae seen,

On the braes of Killiecrankie, 0. I fought at land, I fought at sea;

At hame I fought my auntie, O; But I met the devil and Dundee,

On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O.
The bauld Pitcur fell in a furr,

And Clavers got a clankie 0;
Or I had fed an Athole gled,

On the braes o' Killiecrankie, O. WHAT CAN A YOUNG LASSIE. TONE-What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man. What can a young lassie, what shall a young

lassie, What can a young lassie do wi'an auld man?

Bad luck on the penny that tempted my

minnie 'To sell her poor Jenny for siller and lan'! Bad luck on the penny that tempted my

minnie To sell her poor Jenny for siller and

lan'! He's always compleenin' frae mornin' to e'enin',

[lang; He boasts and he hirples the weary day He's doyl’t and he's dozin', his bluid it is

frozen, Oh, dreary's the nightwi'a crazy auld man! He's doyl't and he's dozin', his bluid it

is frozen, Oh,dreary's the night wi' a crazy auld

man ! He hums and he hankers, he frets and he

cankers, I never can please him, do a' that I can ; He's peevish and jealous of a' the young

fellows: Oh, dool on the day I met wi' an auld man! He's peevish and jealous of a' the young fellows:

[man ! Oh, dool on the day I met wi' an auld My auld auntie Katie upon me takes pity,

I'll do my endeavour to follow her plan; I'll cross him, and wrack him, until I heart. break him,

[pan. And then his auld brass will buy me a new I'll cross him, and wrack him, until I

heart-break him, And then his auld brass will buy më

a new pan.

WHEN JANUAR' WIND. TUNE-The Lass that made the Bed to me WHËN Januar' wind was blawing cauld,

As to the north I took my way, The mirksome night did me enfauld,

I knew na where to lodge till day. By my good luck a maid I met,

Just in the middle o' my care; And kindly she did me invite

To walk into a chamber fair. I bow'd fu' low unto this maid,

And thank'd her for her courtesie ;
I bow'd fu' low unto this maid,

And bade her mak a bed to me.
She made the będ baith large and wide,

Wi’ twa white hands she spread it down ;
She put the cup to her rosy lips,
And drank, “Young man, now sleep ye

şoun'.” She snatch'd the candle in her hand,

And frae my chamber went wi' speed ; But I call’d her quickly back again

To lay some mair below my head.

A cod she laid below my head,

And served me wi' due respect; And to salute ber wi' a kiss,

I put my arms about her neck. “Haud aff your hands, young man,” she

says, " And dinna sae uncivil be : If ye

hae ony love for me, Oh wrang na my virginitie !" Her hair was like the links o' gowd,

Her teeth were like the ivorie; Her cheeks like lilies dipt in wine,

The lass that made the bed to me. Her bosom was the driven snaw,

Twa drifted heaps sae fair to see ; Her limbs the polish'd marble stane,

The lass that made the bed to me. I kiss'd her owre and owre again,

And aye she wist na what to say ; I laid her 'tween me and the wa'

The lassie thought na lang till day
Upon the morrow when we rose,

I thank'd her for her courtesie;
But aye she blush'd, and aye she sigh'd,

And said, “ Alas! ye've ruin'd me.'
I clasp'd her waist, and kiss'd her syne,

While the tear stood twinklin' in her ee; I said, “ My lassie, dinna cry,

For ye aye shall mak the bed to me."

She took her mither's Holland sheets,

And made them a' in sarks to me, Blythe and merry may she be,

The lass that made the bed to me.

The bonnie lass made the bed to me,

The braw lass made the bed to me: I'll ne'er forget till the day I die,

The lass that made the bed to me!

WHERE ARE THE JOYS?

TUNE-Saw ye my Father. WHERE are the joys I have met in the

morning, That danc'd to the lark's early song ? Where is the peace that awaited my wan

d'ring, At evening the wild woods among ? No more a-winding the course of yon river,

And marking sweet flow'rets so fair : No more I trace the light footsteps of plea

sure, But sorrow and sad sighing care. Is it that summer's forsaken our valleys,

And grim surly winter is near ?
No, no! the bees humming round the gay

roses,
Proclaim it the pride of the year

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