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The young laird o' the Lang Shaw

Has drunk her health in wine ;
The priest has said-in confidence-

The lassie was divine-
And that is mair in maiden's praise

Than ony priest should say :
But, 0, what will the lads do

When Maggy gangs away?

The wailing in our green glen

That day will quaver high,
'Twill draw the redbreast frae the wood,

The laverock from the sky;
The fairies frae their beds o' dew

Will rise an' join the lay
An' hey! what a day will be

When Maggy gangs away!


TUNE-The Toper's Delight.

Auld John Borthick is gane to a weddin',

Frae Edinburgh owr to the east neuk o' Fife ; His cheeks they war thin, an' his colour was fadin',

But auld John Borthick was mad for a wife. His heart was as light as the lammie's in July,

An' saft as the mushroom that grows on the lee;

For bonny Miss Jeany had squeez'd it to ulzie

Wi' ae wily blink o'her bonny blue e'e.

He sat in a neuk in confusion an' anguish;

His gravat was suddled, but that wasna a'; His head wasna beld, but his brow was turn'd

langish; His teeth warna out, but they war turnin' sma'; He saw bonny Jeany afore him was landit;

He saw bonny Jeany was favour'd by a'; By lairds an' by nobles respectfully handit ;

An' wow but Miss Jeany was bonny an' braw ! “Alas!" quo' John Borthick, “they'll spoil the

poor lassie,

An' gar her believe that she carries the bell; I'll ne'er hae a wife sae upliftit an' saucy ;

I cou’dna preserve her a month to mysel'. But yet she's sae handsome, sae modest, an' rosy,

The man wha attains her is blest for his life; My heart is a' earning to lie in her bosy. Oh! dear!" quo' John Borthick, “gin I had a

wife !"

Lang Geordie was tipsy; he roar'd an' he rantit;

He danc'd an' he sang, an' was brimfu'o' glee ; Of riches, of strength, an' of favour he yauntit:

No man in the world sae mighty as he. But in cam his wife; he grew sober an’ sulky;

She bade him gang hame as he valued his life ;

Then cuff'd him, an'ca'd him an ass an'a monkey, “Ha! faith!" quo' John Borthick, “ I'll ne'er

hae a wife."

The bride an’ bridegroom to their bed they retir'd;

Miss Jeany was there, an' John Borthick an'a': He look'd at Miss Jeany, his heart was inspired;

Some said that the tears frae his haffits did fa'. He saw the bridegroom tak the bride in his bosom; He kiss'd her, caress'd her, an' ca'd her his life

3 John turn'd him about; for he couldna compose

him ;

“0, Lord!" quo' John Borthick,

a wife !"

gin I had

The mornin' appear'd, an the cobble was ready;

John Borthick was first at the end of the bay : But oh! to his sorrow he miss'd the sweet lady;

A beau had her under his mantle away, In less than a fortnight John Borthick was mar.

ried To ane wha might weel be the joy o' his life : But yet, wi' confusion an' jealousy worried,

He curses the day that he married a wife.


National Songs.


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