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Then come away, and dinna stay;
What

gars ye look sae landart ? I'd have ye run, and not delay

To join my father's standard !*

DEAR AND A-WALY, HINNIE.

Dear and a-waly, hinnie,

Dear and a-waly, die,
Dear and a-waly, hinnie,

It's braw milking the kye.

I'll hae nae mair sour-milk suppers,

I'll hae nae mair lappers o' kail; But I'll hae the bonnie young lad That drinks the berry-brown ale.

Dear and a-waly, &c.

I'll hae nae mair sour-milk suppers,

I'll hae nae mair lappers o' whey; But I'll hae the bonnie

young

lad That's carried my heart away.

Dear and a-waly, &c.

Summer's a seemly season;

There's claver ilka cleuch;
Sae merrily sings the mavis ;
The burn rins ower the heuch.

Dear and a-waly, &c.

Sell hawkie, minnie,

Sell hawkie, ye;

* An anecdote connected with this song is printed in the Historical Essay at the beginning of the collection.

Sell hawkie, minnie,
And buy the beets to me.

Dear and a-waly, &c.
I'd rather sell my petticoat,

Though it were made o' silk,
Than sell my bonnie brown hawkie,

That gies us the wee soup milk.

LORD BINNING.*

Some cry up little Hyndyt for this thing and for that, And others James Dalrymple, though he be somewhat

fat;

But, of all the pretty gentlemen of whom the town do

tell, Emilius, Emilius, he bears away the bell.

Some cry up Ranting Rothes, whose face is like the

moon; Nor Highlander nor minister can put him out of tune.

But of all, &c.

Some cry up Binning's father for feehting at Dunblane; But Binning says it only was for fear of being taen.

But of all, &c.

* This song must be just about a century old, as the Lord Binning to whom it alludes died in 1733, at the age of twenty-four. He was a youth of the greatest promise, and the author of the song of Robin and Nanny, which is included in this collection.

† The Earl of Hyndford, British Ambassador at the court of St Petersburg.

John, sixth Earl of Haddington, who appeared as a volunteer on the King's side at the battle of Dunblane or Sheriffmuir, where he is said to have behaved with great gallantry.

Some cry up Earl Lauderdale, though he be grim and

black; For at the battle of Sheriffmuir he never turned his back.

But of all, &c.

Some cry up pretty Polwarth* for his appearance great,
For wi' his Orange Regiment the rebels he defeat.

But of all, &c.

Some cry up

the Laird o' Grant, 'cause he came foremost in; And others wee Balgony for naething but his chin.

But of all, &e.

Some cry up our great Generalf for managing the war, Though at the battle o' Dunblane he pushed the foe too far.

But of all, &c.

I have nae skill in politics ; therefore I haud my tongue ;
But you'll think I hae gab enough, though I be some-

what young.

But I'll tell you a secret, my fairy Binning elf,
Emilius, Emilius, I swear it is yourself !

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THERE'S A LAD IN THIS TOWN HAS A

FANCY FOR ME.

TUNE- The Tailor fell through the bed, thimbles and a'.

THERE's a lad in this town has a fancy for me,
There's a lad in this town has a fancy for me ;

* Eldest son of the Earl of Marchmont. † John, Duke of Argyle and Greenwich.

But they're nearer my heart that's farer frae me,
And he's blacker that I loe better than he.

There's better and better providing for me,
There's better and better providing for me,
There's better and better providing for me;
There's a coach and six horses a-riding for me.

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he;

LEANING ower a window, and looking ower a mound,
I spied a mason laddie, wha gave my heart a wound;
A wound, and a wound, and a deadly wound gave
And I wad wash his apron an he wad fancy me.
I winna hae the minister, for a' his many books;
I winna hae the dominie, for a' his wylie looks ;
I will hae nane o'thae twa, though they wad fancy me;
But my bonnie mason laddie he bears awa' the gree.

I winna hae the mautman, for a' his muckle sho'el ;
Nor will I hae the miller, for a' bis mity meal ;
I wad hae nane o' thae twa, though they wad fancy me;
For

iny bonnie mason laddie he's up the scaffold hie.
I winna hae the ploughman, that gangs at the pleuch;
Nor yet will I the chaplain, though he has gear eneuch;
I wad hae nane o'thae twa, though they wad fancy me;
For my bonnie mason laddie has stown the heart frae me.

I winna hae the souter, that rubs upon the shoon ; Nor yet will I the weaver, that gingles on the loom ;

I wad hae nane o' thae twa, though they wad fancy me; For my

bonnie mason laddie he bears awa' the gree.

The smith that canna lay an axe is no a man o' craft; The wright that canna seam a deal can scarcely lay a

laft. The lad that canna kiss a lass is no a lad for me ; But my

bonnie mason laddie he can do a' the three.

GALA WATER.

TUNE-Gala Water.

Out ower yon moss, out ower yon muir,

Out ower yon bonnie bush o' heather !
O all ye lads, whae'er ye be,
Show me the way to Gala Water.
Braw, braw lads o' Gala Water,

Bonnie lads o' Gala Water;
The Lothian lads maun ne'er compare

Wi' the braw lads o' Gala Water.

At Nettlie-flat we will begin,

And at Halltree we'll write a letter;
We'll down by the Bower, and take a scour,

And drink to the lads o' Gala Water.

There's Blindlie and Torwoodlee,

And Galashiels is muckle better ;
But
young
Torsonce he bears the

gree
Of a' the Pringles o' Gala Water.

Buckham is a bonnie place;
But Appletree-leaves is muckle better;

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