Happy, thou Indian grove, I'll say,

Where now my Nancy's path may be! While thro' thy sweets she loves to stray,

O tell me, does she muse on me!

SONG.

Tune, ' Fee him Father.'

Thou hast left me ever, Jamie, Thou hast left me

ever. 'Thou hast left me ever, Jamie, Thou hast left me

ever.

Aften hast thou vow'd that death, Only should us

sever.

Now thou 'st left thy lass for ay-I maun see thee

never, Jamie, I'll see thee never.

Thou bast me forsaken, Jamie, Thou hast me for

saken. Thou hast me forsaken, Jamie, Thou hast me for.

saken. Thou canst love anither jo, While my heart is

breaking Soon my weary een l'll close-Never mair to

AULD LANG SYNE.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And never brought to min'? Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And days o' lang syne ?

CHORUS
For auld lang syne, my dear,

For auld lang syne,
We'll tak'a cup o' kindness yet,

For auld lang syne.

We twa hae run about the braes,

And pu 't the gowans fine ; But we've wandered mony a weary foot, Sin auld lang syne.

For auld, &c.

We twa hae paid!'t i' the burn,

Frae morning sun till dine :
But seas between us braid hae roar'd,
Sin auld lang syne.

For auld, &c.

And here's a hand, my trusty fiere,

And gie's a haud o' thine ; And we'll tak a right guid willie-waught, For auld lang syne.

For auld, &c.

And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp,

And surely I'll be mine;
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

For auld, &c.

BANNOCK-BURN.

ROBERT BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY.

Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led;
Welcome to your gory bed,

Or to glorious victorie.

Now's the day, and now's the hour;
See the front of battle lower;
See approach proud Edward's power

Edward ! chains and slaverie!

a

Wha will be a traitor knave?

а Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave?

Traitor! coward ! turn and free!

Wha for Scotland's king and law
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Free-man stand, or free-man fa',

Caledonian! on wi' me!

Dy oppression's woes and pains !
By your sons in servile chains !
We will drain our dearest veins,

But they shall be shall be free!

Lay the proud usurpers low !
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty's in every blow!

Forward ! let us do, or die!

FAIR JENNY.

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 wand'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 pleasure,

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.

Fain would I hide what I fear to discover,

Yet long, long too well have I known:

All that has caused this wreck in my bosom,

Is Jenny, fair Jenny alone.

Time cannot aid me, my griefs are immortal,

Nor hope dare a comfort bestow: Come then, enamour'd and fond of my anguish,

Enjoyment I'll seek in my woe.

SONG.

Tune, The Collier's dochter.'

DELUDED Swain, the pleasure

The fickle Fair can give thee,
Is but a fairy treasure,

Thy hopes will soon deceive thee.

The billows on the ocean,

The breezes idly roaming,
The clouds' uncertain motion,

They are but types of woman.

0! art thou not ashamed,

To doat upon a feature ?
If man thou would'st be named,

Despise the silly creature.

Go, find an honest fellow,

Good claret set before thee:
Hold on till thou art mellow,

And then to bed in glory.