The bride was drest in claes fu' braw
Frae head to feet without a flaw;
An' something mair she had to shaw,
I maist forgot the breast-knots.

O the bonny, &c.

In came her brither wi' a stend,
An' sware that he had seen the send,

Then cock'd his pistol to the bend,

The fire, I wat, he mist not.

O the bonny, &c.

Out spake her mither when she saw
The bride an' maidens a' sae braw,
Wi' giggling clouts, black be your fa',
Ye've made a bonny feast o't.

O the bonny, &c.

Her mither took her by the cluck,
An' led her three times roun' the cruck,
Syne said: Gudewife, well mat ye bruik,
While some great count their kiest not.
O the bonny, &c.

The bridal breakfast down was set,
Some buirly kippards o' milk meat;
It scalded them, it was sae het,

As soon as they did taste o't.

O the bonny, &c.

The bree was het, did scauld their mou',

An' some into their cutties blew,

While some frae them their speens they threw,

But yet their will they miss'd not.

O the bonny, &c.

When ilka ane had claw'd their plate,
The piper lad he looked blate,

The folks a' said that he should ate,

But he had lost the best o't.

O the bonny, &c.

2

Ower stools and dales the chiels did loup,
An' a' the chains they gar'd them coup;
The piper said, Wi' them, deil scoup,
He'd made a hungry feast o't.

O the bonny, &c.

Out they gat then wi' a fling,

Ilk lass into her lad did hing,

Ilk o' them chose a different spring,
The bride she chose the breast-knots.
O the bonny, &c.

Some sat on dales, an' some on planks,
And some they sat on heads o' banks,
The piper lad stood on his shanks,
And birled up the breast-knots.

O the bonny, &c.

MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS.

BURNS. Air-" Portmore."

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart's in the Highlands a chasing the deer;
Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe;
My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go.
Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the north,
The birthplace of valour, the country of worth;
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,

The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.

Farewell to the mountains high cover'd with snow;
Farewell to the straths and green valleys below;
Farewell to the forest and wild hanging woods;
Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.
My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart's in the Highlands a chasing the deer;
Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe;
My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.

PORTMORE.

Air-"Portmore."

O DONALDIE, Donaldie, where hae ye been?
A hawking and hunting, go make my bed seen;
Gae make my bed seen and stir up the strae;
My heart's in the Highlands wherever I gae.

Let's drink and gae hame, boys, let's drink and gae hame,
If we stay any langer we'll get a bad name;

We'll get a bad name and fill ourselves fou,

And the lang woods o' Derry are ill to gae through.

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart's in the Highlands a hunting the deer ;
A chasing the wild deer, and catching the roe;
My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.

O bonny Portmore, ye shine where you charm,
The more I think of you, the more my heart's warm ;
When I look from you, my heart it is sore,
When I mind upon Valiantny and on Portmore.

There are mony words, but few o' the best,
And he that speaks fewest lives langest at rest`;
My mind by experience teaches me so,—
My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.

"Donald Cameron," says Peter Buchan, in his "Ancient Ballads and Songs of the North of Scotland," 1828, vol. ii., "was the author of this very beautiful and very old song. It is well known to most poetical readers with how little success Burns endeavoured to graft upon this stock a twig of his own rearing. Even Mr. Cunningham, in his 'Songs of Scotland,' admits the fact, and regrets that he could give no more than the first four lines of the original. The whole is now, for the first time, given complete from the recitation of a very old person." This song does not merit the praise Mr. Buchan gives it, and appears to be a heterogeneous jumble of lines from various songs and ballads previously current. Burns's song, though not one of his best, is certainly an emendation of Portmore," and is at all events consistent with itself.

THE BONNIE HOUSE O' AIRLY.

Air-"The house of Airly."

Ir fell on a day, and a bonnie summer day,
When the corn grew green and rarely,
That there fell out a great dispute
Between Argyle and Airly.

The Duke o' Montrose has written to Argyle
To come in the morning early,

An' lead in his men, by the back of Dunkeld,
To plunder the bonnie house o' Airly.

The lady look'd o'er her window sae hie,
And, oh, but she look'd weary ;

And there she espied the great Argyle

Come to plunder the bonnie house o' Airly.

"Come down, come down, Lady Margaret," he says, "Come down and kiss me fairly,

Or before the morning clear daylight,

I'll no leave a standing stane in Airly."

“I wadna kiss thee, great Argyle,

I wadna kiss thee fairly ;

I wadna kiss thee, great Argyle,

Gin you shouldna leave a standing stane in Airly."

He has ta'en her by the middle sae sma',

Says, "Lady, where is your drury?"

"It's up

and down the bonnie burn-side, Amang the planting of Airly."

They sought it up, they sought it down,
They sought it late and early,

And found it in the bonnie balm-tree

That shines on the bowling-green o' Airly.

He has ta'en her by the left shoulder,
And, oh, but she grat sairly,

And led her down to yon green bank

Till he plunder'd the bonnie house o' Airly.

"Oh, it's I hae seven braw sons,” she says,
"And the youngest ne'er saw his daddie ;
And although I had as mony mae,

I wad gie them a' to Charlie.

But gin my good lord had been at hame,
As this night he is wi' Charlie,

There durst na a Campbell in a' the west

Hae plunder'd the bonnie house o' Airly."

This song was recovered from oral tradition, and first printed towards the close of the last century. It narrates an episode of the civil wars of the Covenant, and the destruction of the castle of Airly, in Forfarshire, the seat of the Ogilvies, Earls of Airly, by the Earl of Argyle.

BANNOCKS O' BARLEY.

From "Johnson's Musical Museum."

BANNOCKS o' bear-meal, bannocks o' barley,
Here's to the Highlandman's bannocks o' barley!
Wha in a brulyie will first cry a parley?
Never the lads wi' the bannocks o' barley!
Bannocks o' bear-meal, bannocks o' barley,
Here's to the Highlandman's bannocks o' barley!

Wha in his wae days were loyal to Charlie ?
Wha but the lads wi' the bannocks o' barley?
Bannocks o' bear-meal, bannocks o' barley,
Here's to the Highlandman's bannocks o' barley!

QUEEN MARY'S LAMENT.

BURNS.

Now Nature hangs her mantle green
On ilka blooming tree,

And spreads her sheets o' daisies white

Out ower the grassy lea.

Now Phoebus cheers the crystal streams,

And glads the azure skies,

But nocht can glad the weary wicht
That fast in durance lies.