Coming through the Rye

My Wife's a Winsome Wee Thing

HE is a winsome wee thing,
She is a handsome wee thing,

She is a bonnie wee thing,

This sweet wee wife o' mine.

I never saw a fairer,

I never lo'ed a dearer,

And niest my heart I'll wear her,
For fear my jewel tine.

She is a winsome wee thing,
She is a handsome wee thing,
She is a bonnie wee thing,

This sweet wee wife o' mine.

The warld's wrack, we share o't,
The warstle and the care o't;
Wi' her I'll blythely bear it,

And think my lot divine.

Coming through the Rye

'OMING through the rye, poor body,

COME

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.

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

Jenny's a' wat, etc.

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.

Highland Mary

TUNE-"Katherine Ogie."

E banks and braes and streams around
The castle o' 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 fareweel
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' monie 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!

Auld Rob Morris

O pale, pale now, those rosy lips,
I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly!

And closed for aye the sparkling glance,
That dwelt on me sae kindly!
And mould'ring now in silent dust,
That heart that lo'ed me dearly!
But still within my bosom's core
Shall live my Highland Mary.

Auld Rob Morris

THERE

HERE'S auld Rob Morris that wons in yon glen,

He's the king o guid fellows and wale of auld

men;

He has gowd in his coffers, he has owsen and

kine,

And ae bonnie lassie, his dautie and mine.

She's fresh as the morning, the fairest in May; She's sweet as the ev'ning amang the new hay; As blythe and as artless as the lamb on the lea, And dear to my heart as the light to my e'e.

But oh! she's an heiress, auld Robin's a laird, And my daddie has nought but a cot-house and yard;

A wooer like me maunna hope to come speed, The wounds I must hide that will soon be my dead.

The day comes to me, but delight brings me nane;
The night comes to me, but my rest it is gane:
I wander my lane, like a night-troubled ghaist,
And I sigh as my heart it wad burst in my

breast.

O had she but been of a lower degree,

I then might hae hop'd she wad smil'd upon me O how past descriving had then been my bliss, As now my distraction no words can express !

Duncan Gray

UNCAN GRAY cam here to woo,

DUNCAN Ha, ha, the wooing o't,

On blythe Yule night when we were fou,
Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

Maggie coost her head fu' high,
Look'd asklent and unco skeigh,
Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh;
Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

Duncan fleech'd, and Duncan pray'd;
Ha, ha, the wooing o't;

Meg was deaf as Ailsa Craig,

Ha, ha, the wooing o't;

Duncan sigh'd baith out and in,

Grat his een baith bleer't and blin',
Spak o' lowpin' o'er a linn;

Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

Time and chance are but a tide,

Ha, ha, the wooing o't;

Slighted love is sair to bide,

Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

"Shall I, like a fool," quoth he,

"For a haughty hizzie die?

She may gae to-France for me!"
Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

How it comes let doctors tell,

Ha, ha, the wooing o't;

Meg grew sick- -as he grew hale,

Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

Here's a Health to them that's awa

Something in her bosom wrings,
For relief a sigh she brings;

And O, her een, they spak sic things!
Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

Duncan was a lad o' grace,

Ha, ha, the wooing o't;

Maggie's was a piteous case,

Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

Duncan couldna be her death,

Swelling pity smoor'd his wrath;
Now they're crouse and cantie baith!
Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

H

Here's a Health to them that's awa

ERE'S a health to them that's awa,

Here's a health to them that's awa;
And wha winna wish guid luck to our cause,
May never guid luck be their fa'!
It's guid to be merry and wise,

It's guid to be honest and true,
It's guid to support Caledonia's cause,
And bide by the buff and the blue.

Here's a health to them that's awa,

Here's a health to them that's awa;

Here's a health to Charlie, the chief o' the clan, Altho' that his band be but sma'!

May liberty meet wi' success!

May prudence protect her frae evil!

May tyrants and tyranny tine in the mist,

And wander their way to the devil!

Here's a health to them that's awa,

Here's a health to them that's awa;