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O MALLY'S MEEK, MALLY'S SWEET.

As I was walking up the street,

A barefit maid I chanced to meet

But the road was very hard

For that fair maiden's tender feet.

;

It were mair meet that those fine feet
Were weel laced up in silken shoon,
And 'twere more fit that she should sit
Within yon chariot gilt aboon.

Her yellow hair, beyond compare,

Comes trinkling down her swan-like neck, And her two eyes, like stars in skies, Would keep a sinking ship frae wreck.

O Mally's meek, Mally's sweet,
Mally's modest and discreet,

Mally's rare, Mally's fair,

Mally's every way complete.

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LADY MARY ANN.

O Lady Mary Ann

Looks o'er the castle wa',

She saw three bonnie boys
Playing at the ba';

The youngest he was

The flower amang them a';

My bonnie laddie's young,

But he's growin' yet.

O father! O father!
An' ye think it fit,
We'll send him a year
To the college yet:
We'll sew a green ribbon

Round about his hat,

And that will let them ken
He's to marry yet.

Lady Mary Ann

Was a flower i' the dew,
Sweet was its smell,

And bonnie was its hue!
And the langer it blossom'd
The sweeter it grew;
For the lily in the bud
Will be bonnier yet.

Young Charlie Cochran

Was the sprout of an aik; Bonnie and bloomin'

And straught was its make: The sun took delight

To shine for its sake,

And it will be the brag
O' the forest yet.

The simmer is gane

When the leaves they were green,

And the days are awa

That we hae seen:

But far better days

I trust will come again,

For my bonnie laddie's young,
But he's growin' yet.

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O, WAT YE WHA'S IN YON TOWN?

O, WAT ye wha's in yon town,
Ye see the e'enin sun upon ?
The dearest maid's in yon town,
That e'enin sun is shining on.

Now haply down yon gay green shaw,
She wanders by yon spreading tree:
How blest ye flow'rs that round her blaw,
Ye catch the glances o' her e'e!

How blest ye birds that round her sing,
And welcome in the blooming year!
And doubly welcome be the spring,

The season to my Jeanie dear!

The sun blinks blithe on yon town,
And on yon bonnie braes sae green;
But my delight in yon town,

And dearest pleasure, is my Jean.

Without my love, not a' the charms
O' Paradise could yield me joy;
But gie me Jeanie in my arms,
And welcome Lapland's dreary sky!

My cave wad be a lover's bower,
Tho' raging winter rent the air;

And she a lovely little flower,

That I wad tent and shelter there.

O sweet is she in yon town,

Yon sinkin sun's gane down upon;

A fairer than's in yon town,

His setting beam ne'er shone upon.

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If angry fate is sworn my foe,

And suffering I am doom'd to bear;
I careless quit all else below,

But spare, O spare me Jeanie dear.

For while life's dearest blood is warm,
Ae thought frae her shall ne'er depart,
And she- as fairest is her form,

She has the truest, kindest heart.

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A VISION.

As I stood by yon roofless tower,
Where the wa'-flower scents the dewy air,
Where the howlet mourns in her ivy bower,
And tells the midnight moon her care;

A lassie, all alone was making her moan,
Lamenting our lads beyond the sea:

In the bluidy wars they fa', and our honour's gane an' a,
And broken-hearted we maun die.

The winds were laid, the air was still,
The stars they shot alang the sky;

The fox was howling on the hill,
And the distant-echoing glens reply.

The stream, adown its hazelly path,
Was rushing by the ruin'd wa's,
Hasting to join the sweeping Nith,
Whase distant roaring swells and fa's.

The cauld blue north was streaming forth
Her lights, wi' hissing, eerie din;

Athort the lift they start and shift,

Like fortune's favours, tint as win.

ΙΟ

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Now, looking over firth and fauld,
Her horn the pale-faced Cynthia reared,
When lo! in guise of Minstrel auld,

A stern and stalwart ghaist appeared.

And frae his harp sic strains did flow,
Might rous'd the slumbering dead to hear;
But oh, it was a tale of woe,

As ever met a Briton's ear!

He sang wi' joy his former day,
He weeping wail'd his latter times;
But what he said it was nae play,
I winna venture't in my rhymes.

THE HIGHLAND LASSIE.

NAE gentle dames, tho' ne'er sae fair,
Shall ever be my Muse's care;
Their titles a' are empty show;
Gie me my Highland lassie, O.

Within the glen sae bushy, O,
Aboon the plain sae rushy, O,
I set me down wi' right good will
To sing my Highland lassie, O

Oh, were yon hills and valleys mine,
Yon palace and yon gardens fine!
The world then the love should know
I bear my Highland lassie, 0.

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ΙΟ

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