Chill runs my blood to hear it rave,
I think upon the stormy wave,
Where many a danger I must dare,
Far from the bonnie banks of Ayr.

'Tis not the surging billow's roar, 'Tis not that fatal, deadly shore; Tho' death in ev'ry shape appear, The wretched have no more to fear: But round my heart the ties are bound, That heart transpierc'd with many a wound: These bleed afresh, those ties I tear, To leave the bonnie banks of Ayr.

Farewell, old Coila's hills and dales,
Her heathy moors and winding vales ;
The scenes where wretched fancy roves,
Pursuing past, unhappy loves!

Farewell, my friends! Farewell, my foes!
My peace with these, my love with those-
The bursting tears my heart declare,
Farewell, the bonnie banks of Ayr!

Powers Celestial, whose Protection

TUNE-"Blue Bonnets."

OWERS celestial, whose protection

POWER

Ever guards the virtuous fair,
While in distant climes I wander,
Let my Mary be your care:
Let her form sae fair and faultless,
Fair and faultless as your own;

Let my Mary's kindred spirit
Draw your choicest influence down.

Ye Sons of Old Killie

Make the gales you waft around her
Soft and peaceful as her breast;
Breathing in the breeze that fans her,
Soothe her bosom into rest:
Guardian angels, O protect her,
When in distant lands I roam;
To realms unknown while fate exiles me,
Make her bosom still my home!

Ye Sons of Old Killie

TUNE-"Shawnboy."

Yo follow the noble vocation;

E sons of old Killie, assembled by Willie,

Your thrifty old mother has scarce such another To sit in that honoured station.

I've little to say, but only to pray,

As praying's the ton of your fashion;

A prayer from the Muse you well may excuse, 'Tis seldom her favourite passion.

Ye Powers who preside o'er the wind and the tide, Who marked each element's border;

Who formed this frame with beneficent aim,

Whose sovereign statute is order;

Within this dear mansion may wayward contention

Or withered envy ne'er enter;

May secrecy round be the mystical bound,

And brotherly love be the centre!

YON

Yon Wild Mossy Mountains

ON wild mossy mountains sae lofty and wide,
That nurse in their bosom the youth o' the
Clyde,

Where the grouse lead their coveys thro' the heather to feed,

And the shepherd tents his flock as he pipes on his reed:

Not Gowrie's rich valley, nor Forth's sunny shores, To me hae the charms o' yon wild mossy moors; For there, by a lanely, sequester'd clear stream, Resides a sweet lassie, my thought and my dream.

Amang thae wild mountains shall still be my path, Ilk stream foaming down its ain green narrow strath;

For there, wi' my lassie, the day lang I rove, While o'er us unheeded fly the swift hours o' love.

She is not the fairest, altho' she is fair;
O' nice education but sma' is her share;
Her parentage humble as humble can be,
But I lo'e the dear lassie because she lo'es me.

To beauty what man but maun yield him a prize, In her armour of glances, and blushes, and sighs? And when wit and refinement hae polish'd her darts, They dazzle our een, as they fly to our hearts.

But kindness, sweet kindness, in the fond sparkling e'e,

Has lustre outshining the diamond to me;

And the heart-beating love, as I'm clasp'd in her

arms,

O, these are my lassie's all-conquering charms!

To Mary

To Mary

'OULD aught of song declare my pains,
Could artful numbers move thee,

The Muse should tell, in labour'd strains,
O Mary, how I love thee!

They who but feign a wounded heart
May teach the lyre to languish ;
But what avails the pride of art,
When wastes the soul with anguish?

Then let the sudden bursting sigh
The heart-felt pang discover;
And in the keen, yet tender eye,
O read th' imploring lover!
For well I know thy gentle mind
Disdains art's gay disguising;
Beyond what fancy e'er refin'd,
The voice of nature prizing.

Rattlin', Roarin' Willie

TUNE-" Rattlin', roarin' Willie."

RATTLIN', roarin' Willie,
O, he held to the fair,
An' for to sell his fiddle,
An' buy some other ware;
But parting wi' his fiddle,

The saut tear blin't his e'e;
And rattlin', roarin' Willie,

Ye're welcome hame to me!

O Willie, come sell your fiddle,
O sell your fiddle sae fine;
O Willie, come sell your fiddle,
And buy a pint o' wine!

If I should sell my fiddle,

The warl' would think I was mad;
For monie a rantin' day

My fiddle and I hae had.

As I cam by Crochallan,
I cannily keekit ben-
Rattlin', roarin' Willie

Was sitting at yon board en',
Sitting at yon board en',

And amang guid companie;
Rattlin', roarin' Willie,

Ye're welcome hame to me!

O whare did ye get

TUNE-"Bonnie Dundee."

WHARE did ye get that hauver meal bannock?
O silly blind body, O dinna ye see?

I gat it frae a brisk young sodger laddie,
Between Saint Johnston and bonnie Dundee.
O gin I saw the laddie that gae me't!

Aft has he doudled me on his knee;

May Heaven protect my bonnie Scots laddie,
And send him safe hame to his babie and me!

My blessin's upon thy sweet wee lippie,

My blessin's upon thy bonnie e'e brie!

Thy smiles are sae like my blythe sodger laddie,
Thou's aye the dearer and dearer to me!
But I'll big a bower on yon bonnie banks,
Where Tay rins wimplin' by sae clear;
And I'll cleed thee in the tartan sae fine,
And mak thee a man like thy daddie dear.