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

him:

"O, Lord!" quo' John Borthick, "gin I had a wife !"

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.

CLASS FOURTH.

National Songs.

237

NATIONAL SONGS.

BAULDY FRASER.

TUNE-Whigs o' Fife.

My name is Bauldy Fraser, man,
I'm puir an' auid, an' pale an' wan,
I brak my shin, an' tint a han'

Upon Culloden lee, man.

Our Highlan' clans war bauld an' stout,
An' thought to turn their faes about,
But gat that day a desperate rout,

An' owre the hills did flee, man.

Sic hurly-burly ne'er was seen,
Wi' cuffs, an' buffs, an' blindit een,
While Highlan' swords o' metal keen,
War gleamin' grand to see, man.

The cannons rowtit in our face,

An' brak our banes an' raive our claes; 'Twas then we saw our ticklish case

Atween the deil an' sea, man.