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TUNE-Braes of Tullymet. “ WILL ye gang wi' me, lassie,

To the braes o' Birniebouzle ? Baith the earth an' sea, lassie,

Will-Prob to fend ye. I'll hunt the otter an' the brock ; The hart, the hare, an' heather-cock ; An' pu' the limpat off the rock,

To fatten an' to fend ye. “If ye’ll gae wi' me, lassie,

To the braes o’ Birniebouzle,
Till the day we dee, lassie,

Ye sall aye hae plenty:
The peats I'll carry in a skull;
The cod an’ ling wi' lines I'll pull;
An' reave the eggs o' mony a gull,

To mak ye dishes dainty.
“Sae cheery will ye be, lassie,

I' the braes o' Birniebouzle ; Donald Gun and me, lassie,

Ever will attend ye. Though we hae nouther milk nor meal, Nor lamb nor mutton, beef nor veal We'll fank the porpy an’ the seal,

An' that's the way to fend ye.

An' ye sal gang sae braw, lassie,

At the kirk o'Birniebouzle ;
Wi' littit brogs an' a' lassie,

Wow but ye'll be vaunty :
An' ye sal wear, when you are weu,
The kirtle an' the Highland plaid,
An' sleep upon a heather bed,

Sae cozy an' sae canty.

“If ye will marry me, laddie,

At the kirk'o', Birniebouzle;
My chiefest aim shall be, laddie,

Ever to content ye:
I'll bait the line an' bear the pail,
An' row the boat an' spread the sail,
An' dadd the clotters wi' a flail,

To mak our tatoes plenty.

" Then come awa wi' me, lassie,

To the braes o' Birniebouzle ; An' since ye are sae free, lassie,

Ye sal ne'er repent ye; For ye sal hae baith tups an' ewes, An' gaits an'swine, an' stots an' cows, An' be the lady o' my house,

An, that may weel content ye.”


TUNE-Bob o' Dumblane.

Life is a weary, weary, weary.
Life is a weary cobble o' care ;

The poets mislead you,

Wha ca' it a meadow, For life is a puddle o' perfect despair. We love an' we marry, we fight an' we vary, Get children to plague an' confound us for aye!

Our daughters grow limmers,

Our sons they grow sinners,
An' scorn ilka word that a parent can say.

Man is a steerer, steerer, steerer,
Man is a steerer, life is a pool;

We wrestle an' fustle,

For riches we bustle,
Then drap in the grave, an' leave a' to a fool.

Youth again could I see,

Women should wilie be,
Ere I were wheedled to sorrow an pain ;

I should take care o' them,

Never to marry them;
Hang me if buckled in wedlock again.


Tune-Jackson's Cog in the Morning. “ Now, mother, since a' our young lasses ye saw, Yestreen at the wedding, sae trig an' sae braw, Say, wasna my Peggy the flower o' them a'

Our table an' party adorning ? Her form is so fair, an' her features so fine; Her cheek like the lily anointit wi’ wine ; The beam o' her bonny blue e'e does outshine

The stern that appears in the morning.”

“Awa, ye poor booby! your skill is but sma'! If ye marry Peggy ye'll ruin us a': She lives like a lady, an' dresses as braw :

But how will she rise i' the morning ? She'll lie in her bed till eleven, while ye Maun rise an' prepare her her toast an' her tea : Her friends will be angry, an' send ye to sea,

Dear Jocky, be wise an' tak warning.”

O mother! sic beauty I canna forego! I've sworn I will have her, come weal or come

woe; An' that wad be perjury, black as a crow,

To leave her an' think of another." “An' if ye do wed her, your prospects are fine ; In meal-pocks an' rags ye will instantly shine :

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Gae break your mad vow, an' the sin shall be mine;

O pity yoursel' an' your mother?"

“I'm sure my young Peggy is handsome an' gay: I spoke to her father this very same day, An' tauld him I was for his daughter away.

“Dear Jocky! what said he this morning ?" “ He said he wad gie me a horse an' a cow, A hunder gude ewes, an' a pack o' his woo, To stock a bit farm at the back o' the brow,

An' gie Maggy wark i’ the morning."

" Troth Peggy is bonny, and handsome I trow; An' really 'tis dangerous breaking a vow: Then tak her; my blessing on Peggy an' you

Shall tarry baith e'ening and morning.” So Jocky an' Peggy in wedlock were bound; The bridal was merry, the music did sound; They went to their bed, while the glass it gaed

round, An' a' wish'd them joy, i' the morning.

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