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My Lord a-hunting

The Bonnie Moorhen

HE heather was blooming, the meadows were

THE

mawn,

Our lads gaed a-hunting, ae day at the dawn,
O'er moors and o'er mosses and monie a glen,
At length they discover'd a bonnie moorhen.

I red you beware at the hunting, young men ;
I red you beware at the hunting, young men ;
Tak some on the wing, and some as they spring,
But cannily steal on a bonnie moorhen.

Sweet brushing the dew from the brown heather bells,

Her colours betray'd her on yon mossy fells;
Her plumage outlustred the pride o' the spring,
And O! as she wanton'd gay on the wing.
I red, etc.

Auld Phoebus himsel, as he peep'd o'er the hill,
In spite at her plumage he tried his skill :

He levell'd his rays where she bask'd on the braeHis rays were outshone, and but mark'd where she lay.

I red, etc.

They hunted the valley, they hunted the hill,
The best of our lads wi' the best o' their skill;
But still as the fairest she sat in their sight,
Then whirr! she was over, a mile at a flight.
I red, etc.

My Lord a-hunting

Y lord a-hunting he is gane,

MY

But hounds or hawks wi' him are nane,

By Colin's cottage lies his game,

If Colin's Jenny be at hame.

CHORUS.

My lady's gown there's gairs upon't,
And gowden flowers sae rare upon't;
But Jenny's jimps and jirkinet,

My lord thinks muckle mair upon't.

My lady's white, my lady's red,
And kith and kin o' Cassillis' blude,
But her ten-pund lands o' tocher guid
Were a' the charms his lordship lo'ed.
My lady's gown, etc.

Out o'er yon muir, out o'er yon moss,
Whare gor-cocks thro' the heather pass,
There wons auld Colin's bonnie lass,
A lily in a wilderness.

My lady's gown, etc.

Sae sweetly move her genty limbs,
Like music notes o' lover's hymns:
The diamond dew in her een sae blue,
Where laughing love sae wanton swims.
My lady's gown, etc.

My lady's dink, my lady's drest,
The flower and fancy o' the west;
But the lassie that a man lo'es best,
O that's the lass to make him blest.
My lady's gown, etc.

The Carles o' Dysart

TUNE-"Hey, ca' thro'."

UP wi' the carles o' Dysart,

And the lads o' Buckhaven,

And the kimmers o' Largo,
And the lasses o' Leven.

The Birks of Aberfeldy

Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro',

For we hae mickle ado;
Hey, ca' thro', ca' thro',

For we hae mickle ado.

We hae tales to tell,

And we hae sangs to sing;
We hae pennies to spend,
And we hae pints to bring.
Hey, ca' thro', etc.

We'll live a' our days,

And them that come behin',

Let them do the like,

And spend the gear they win.

Hey, ca' thro', etc.

The Birks of Aberfeldy

WOW simmer blinks on flowery braes,

Nonder the crystal streamlet plays,

Come let us spend the lightsome days
In the Birks of Aberfeldy.

CHORUS.

Bonnie lassie, will ye go, will ye go, will
ye go,

Bonnie lassie, will ye go to the Birks of
Aberfeldy?

While o'er their heads the hazels hing,

The little birdies blythely sing,

Or lightly flit on wanton wing

In the Birks of Aberfeldy.

Bonnie lassie, etc.

The braes ascend like lofty wa's,
The foaming stream deep roaring fa's,
O'erhung wi' fragrant spreading shaws,
The Birks of Aberfeldy.

Bonnie lassie, etc.

The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi' flowers,
White o'er the linns the burnie pours,
And rising, weets wi' misty showers
The Birks of Aberfeldy.

Bonnie lassie, etc.

Let Fortune's gifts at random flee,
They ne'er shall draw a wish frae me,
Supremely blest wi' love and thee,
In the Birks of Aberfeldy.

Bonnie lassie, etc.

Strathallan's Lament

HICKEST night, o'erhang my dwelling!

THowling tempests, o'er me rave!

Turbid torrents, wintry swelling,
Still surround my lonely cave!

Crystal streamlets gently flowing,
Busy haunts of base mankind,
Western breezes softly blowing,
Suit not my distracted mind.

In the cause of Right engag'd,
Wrongs injurious to redress,
Honour's war we strongly wag'd,
But the heavens denied success.

Castle Gordon

Ruin's wheel has driven o'er us,
Not a hope that dare attend;
The wide world is all before us-
But a world without a friend!

ST

TUNE-"Morag."

Castle Gordon

TREAMS that glide in Orient plains,
Never bound by winter's chains!
Glowing here on golden sands,
There commix'd with foulest stains
From Tyranny's empurpled bands:
These, their richly-gleaming waves,
I leave to tyrants and their slaves;
Give me the stream that sweetly laves
The banks by Castle Gordon.

Spicy forests, ever gay,
Shading from the burning ray
Hapless wretches sold to toil,
Or the ruthless natives' way,

Bent on slaughter, blood, and spoil:
Woods that ever verdant wave,
I leave the tyrant and the slave,
Give me the groves that lofty brave
The storms, by Castle Gordon.

Wildly here without control,
Nature reigns and rules the whole;
In that sober pensive mood,

Dearest to the feeling soul,

She plants the forest, pours the flood;

Life's poor day I'll musing rave,

And find at night a sheltering cave,

Where waters flow and wild woods wave,
By bonnie Castle Gordon.

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