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We made use of what we had,

And our thankfu' hearts were glad, When we got the bit meat and the claithing, O.

We have lived all our lifetime contented, 0, Since the day we became first acquainted, 0;

It's true we've been but poor,

And we are so to this hour,
Yet we never pined nor lamented, O.

We ne'er thought o' schemes to be wealthy, O, By ways that were cunning or stealthie, O;

But we always had the bliss

And what farther could we wiss ? To be pleased wi' ourselves and be healthy, O.

What though we canna boast of our guineas, 0, We have plenty of Jockies and Jeanies, 0;

And these, I'm certain, are

More desirable by far,
Than a pock full of poor yellow steenies, 0.

We have seen many a wonder and ferlie, O,
Of changes that almost are yearly, O,

Among rich folks up and down,

Both in country and in town,
Who now live but scrimply and barely, 0.

Then why should people brag of prosperity, 0? A straitened life, we see, is no rarity, O;

Indeed, we've been in want,

And our living been but scant, Yet we never were reduced to need charity, O. In this house we first came together, O, Where we've long been a father and mother, 0);

And though not of stone and lime,

It will last us a' our time;
And I hope we shall never need anither, O.

And when we leave this habitation, O,
We'll depart with a good commendation, 0);

We'll go hand in hand, I wiss,

To a better house than this,
To make room for the next generation, 0.

Then why should old age so much wound us, 0? There is nothing in't all to confound us, 0;

For how happy now am I,

With my auld wife sitting by,
And our bairns and our oyés all around us ! 0.

'TWAS WITHIN A MILE OF EDINBURGH

TOWN.

TUNE_Within a mile of Edinburgh.

'Twas within a mile of Edinburgh town,

In the rosy time of the year;
Sweet flowers bloom'd, and the grass was down,
And each shepherd woo'd his dear.

Bonny Jockey, blythe and gay,

Kiss'd sweet Jenny, making hay, The lassie blush'd, and frowning, cried “ No, no, it

will not do; I cannot, cannot, wonnot, wonnot, mannot buckle too."

Jockey was a wag that never would wed,

Though long be had followed the lass ; Contented she earned and eat her brown bread, And merrily turn'd up

the

grass. Bonny Jockey, blythe and free,

Won her heart right merrily : Yet still she blush'd, and frowning cried, “ No, no, it

will not do ; I cannot, cannot, wonnot, wonnot, mannot buckle too."

But when he vow'd he would make her his bride,

Though his flocks and herds were not few,
She gave him her hand, and a kiss beside,
And vow'd she'd for ever be true.

Bonny Jockey, blythe and free,
Won her heart right merrily :

At church she no more frowning cried, “ No, no, it

will not do ; I cannot, cannot, wonnot,wonnot, mannot buckle too."

01 JEANIE, THERE'S NAETHING TO

FEAR YE.

HOGG.

TUNE-Blue Bonnets over the Border.

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O! my lassie, our joy to complete again,

Meet me again in the gloamin, my dearie :
Low down in the dell let us meet again;

O ! Jeanie, there's naething to fear ye :
Come when the wee bat flits silent an eerie ;
Come when the pale face o' nature looks weary.

Love be thy sure defence,

Beauty and innocence : 01 Jeanie, there's naething to fear ye.

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Sweetly blows the haw and the rowan-tree,

Wild roses speck our thicket so brierie ;
Still, still will our bed in the greenwood be;

O ! Jeanie there's naething to fear ye :
Note when the blackbird o' singing grows weary,
List when the beetle bee's bugle comes near ye ;

Then come with fairy baste,

Light foot and beating breast : 01 Jeanie, there's naething to fear ye.

Far, far will the bogle and brownie be;

Beauty and truth they darena come near it.
Kind love is the tie of our unity;

A' maun love it and a' maun revere it.
Love maks the song o' the woodland sae cheerie,
Love
gars

a' Nature look bonnie that's near ye;
Love maks the rose sae sweet,

Cowslip and violet :
O ! Jeanie, there's naething to fear ye.

* From Johnson's Scots Musical Museum, Part I, 1787.

WHA'LL BE KING BUT CHARLIE?

TUNE-Wha’ll be King but Charlie ?

The news frae Moidart cam' yestreen,
Will soon gar mony.

ferlie;
That ships o' war hae just come in,
And landed royal Charlie !
Come through the heather, around him gather ;

Ye're a'the welcomer early :
Around him cling, wi' a' your kin;

For wha’ll be king but Charlie ?
Come through the heather, around him gather,

Come Ronald, come Donald, come a' thegither ;
And crown your rightfu' lawfu' King,

For wha'll be King but Charlie ?

The Highland clans, wi' sword in hand,

Frae John o' Groats to Airly, Hae to a man declar'd to stand, Or fa', wi' royal Charlie.

Come through the heather, &c.

The Lowlands a,' baith great and sma',

Wi' mony a lord and Jaird, hae Declar'd for Scotia’s King an' law, And spier ye wha but Charlie.

Come through the heather, &c.

There's ne'er a lass in a' the land,

But vows baith late and early,
To man she'll ne'er gie heart or hand,
Wba wadna fecht for Charlie.

Come through the heather, &c.

Then here's a health to Charlie's cause,

And be't complete and early;
His very name my heart's blood warms :
To arms for royal Charlie !

Come through the heather, &c.

KELVIN GROVE.

JOHN LYLE.

TUNE-Kelvin Grove.

Let us haste to Kelvin grove, bonnie lassie, O ;
Through its mazes let us rove, bonnie lassie, 0;

Where the rose in all its pride

Decks the hollow dingle's side,
Where the midnight fairies glide, bonnie lassie, O.

We will wander by the mill, bonnie lassie, 0,
To the cove beside the rill, bonnie lassie, 0;

Where the glens rebound the call

Of the lofty waterfall, Through the mountain's rocky ball, bonnie lassie, O.

Then we'll up to yonder glade, bonnie lassie, O,
Where so oft, beneath its shade, bonnie lassie, O,

With the songsters in the grove,

We have told our tale of love, And bave sportive garlands wove, bonnie lassie, O.

Ah! I soon must bid adieu, bonnie lassie, O,
To this fairy scene and you, bonnie lassie, 0,

To the streamlet winding clear,

To the fragrant-scented brier,
E’en to thee of all most dear, bonnie lassie, O.

For the frowns of fortune low'r, bonnie lassie, O,
On thy lover at this hour, bonnie lassie, 0 :

Ere the golden orb of day,

Wakes the warblers from the spray,
From this land I must away, bonnie lassie, O. :

And when on a distant shore, bonnie lassie, 0,
Should I fall 'midst battle's roar, bonnie lassie, 0,

Wilt thou, Helen, when you hear

Of thy lover on his bier,
To his memory shed a tear, bonnie lassie? O.*

* Kelvin Grove is a beautifully wooded dell, about two miles from Glaga gow, forming a sort of lovers' walk for the lads and lasses of that city.

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