The rose blooms gay on cairny brae As weel's in lofty ha'. Sae, lassie, take the lad ye like, CAM YE BY ATHOLE. HOGG. CAM ye by Athole braes, lad wi' the philabeg, Down by the Tummel, or banks of the Garry? Saw ye my lad, wi' his bonnet and white cockade, Leaving his mountains to follow Prince Charlie? Charlie, Charlie, wha wadna follow thee? Lang hast thou loved and trusted us fairly! King of the Highland hearts, bonny Prince I hae but ae son, my brave young Donald! I'll to Lochiel, and Appin, and kneel to them; Down through the Lowlands, down wi' the Whigamore, Loyal true Highlanders, down wi' them rarely! Ronald and Donald, drive on with the braid claymore, Over the necks of the foes of Prince Charlie! Charlie, Charlie, &c. THERE grows a bonnie brier bush in our kail-yard, There grows a bonnie brier bush in our kail-yard; And on that bonnie bush there's twa roses I loe dear, And they're busy busy courting in our kail-yard. They shall hing nae mair upon the bush in our kail-yard, They shall hing nae mair upon the bush in our kail-yard ; They shall bob on Athole green, and there they will be seen, And the rocks and the trees shall be their safeguard. O my bonnie bonnie flouirs, they shall bloom ower them a', When they gang to the dancin' in Carlisle ha'; O what will I do for a lad, when Sandy gangs awa? He's coming frae the north that's to marry me, * From Mr Hogg's Jacobite Relics. THE LAIRD O' COCKPEN. TUNE-The Laird o' Cockpen. THE Laird o' Cockpen, he's proud an' he's great; Doun by the dyke-side a lady did dwell, His wig was weel pouther'd, as guid as when new, He took the grey mare, and rade cannilie- Mistress Jean she was makin' the elder-flower wine; And when she cam ben, he boued fu' low; Dumfounder'd he was, but nae sigh did he gie; And aften he thought, as he gaed through the glen, "She's daft to refuse the Laird o' Cockpen." And now that the Laird his exit had made, Neist time that the Laird and the lady were seen, But as yet there's nae chickens appeared at Cockpen.* THE KAIL-BROSE OF AULD SCOTLAND. TUNE-The Roast-beef of Old England. WHEN our ancient forefathers agreed wi' the laird And O! the auld Scottish kail-brose. When Fergus, the first of our kings, I suppose, Our sodgers were drest in their kilts and short hose, Supposed, with the exception of the two last verses, (which are supplementary,) to be the composition of the accomplished authoress of Marriage. At our annual elections for bailies or mayor, But when we remember the English, our foes, But, now that the thistle is joined to the rose, Yet each true-hearted Scotsman, by nature jocose, And O the auld Scottish kail-brose! * Said to have been written by Sheriff, an Aberdeenshire poet, who published two volumes of poems, and regarding whom the following anecdote is told : When Burns first came to Edinburgh, in the end of the year 1786, he applied to one of the most respectable printers in town, and ordered a quantity of prospectuses of the second edition of his poems. He had shaken off but little of his professional mould; his dress was by no means gay; and he had acquired a very small portion of the reputation he afterwards attained to. Of course, he did not appear in the eyes of an Edinburgh tradesman the most promising customer in the world. So much, indeed, had he the appearance of something the reverse, that when he called for his prospectuses, and began to talk of having the work itself printed, Mr with great politeness of manner, hinted at a custom which obtained among men of his profession, namely, to require payment by advance, in the case of doing business for the first time with strangers. At this ungracious insinuation, the dark cheek of Burns flushed in a moment with the brightest crimson, and pulling a considerable quantity of money from his pocket, he eagerly demanded what he had to pay, tabled the amount, and instantly left the place, notwithstanding all that the printer could say in palliation of his suspicions. A multitudinous impression of Burns's poems was issued next spring from a rival printing-house, and Mr cursed the mal-a-propos cautiousness which had lost him so excellent and so promising a job. With the usual blindness of all persons connected with his profession, which supposes, that because one thing has succeeded, another thing of the same external nature will also succeed, he resolved not to let slip another opportu |