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O, bonnie Mary Hay, it is haliday to me,
When thou art couthie, kind, and free;
There's nae clouds in the lift, nor storms in the sky,
Bonnie Mary Hay, when thou art nigh.

O, bonnie Mary Hay, thou mauna say me nay,
But come to the bower by the hawthorn brae;
But come to the bower, and I'll tell ye a' what's true,
How, bonnie Mary Hay, I can loe nane but you.*

BEHAVE YOURSELL BEFORE FOLK.

Tune-Good morning to your night-cup.

BeHave yoursell before folk,

Behave yoursell before folk,
And dinna be sae rude to me,

As kiss me sae before folk.
It wouldna give me meikle pain,
Gin we were seen and heard by nane,
To tak a kiss or grant you ane;

But gudesake! no before folk.
Behave yoursell before folk,

Behave yoursell before folk,
Whate'er you do when out of view,
Be cautious

aye

before folk.

Consider, lad, how folks will crack,
And what a great affair they'll mak
O'naething but a simple smack

That's gien or taen before folk.
Behave yoursell before folk,

Behave yoursell before folk,
Nor gie the tongue o' auld or young

Occasion to come o'er folk.

I'm sure wi' you I've been as free,
As
ony

modest lass should be,
But yet it doesna do to see

* From an amusing series of Scottish traditionary stories, entitled “ Tales of my Grandmother,” 1823,

Sic freedom used before folk.
Behave yoursell before folk,

Bebave yoursell before folk,
I'll ne'er submit again to it,

So mind you that—before folk.
Ye tell me that my face is fair ;
It may be sae-I dinna care-
But ne'er again gar't blush sae sair

As ye hae done before folk,
Behave yoursell before folk,

Bebave yoursell before folk,
Nor heat my cheeks wi' your mad freaks,

But aye be douce before folk.

Ye tell me that my lips are sweet ;
Sic tales, I doubt, are a' deceit:
At ony rate, its hardly meet

To prie their sweets before folk.
Behave yoursell before folk,

Behave yoursell before folk,
Gin that's the case, there's time and place,

But surely no before folk.

But gin ye really do insist
That I should suffer to be kiss'd,
Gae get a license frae the priest,

And mak me yours before folk.
Behave yoursell before folk,

Behave yoursell before folk,
And when we're ane, baith flesh and bane,
may

tak ten-before folk.

Ye

THE BONNETS OF BONNIE DUNDEE.

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

To the Lords of Convention, 'twas Clavers who spoke, Ere the King's crown go down, there are crowns to be

broke,

So each cavalier, who loves honour and me,
Let him follow the bonnet of bonnie Dundee.

Come, fill up my cup, come, fill up my can, Come, saddle my horses, and call up my men ; Come, open the West Port, and let me gae free, And it's room for the bonnets of bonnie Dundee.

Dundee he is mounted, he rides up the street;
The bells are rung backward, the drums they are beat ;
But the provost, douce man, said, Just e'en let him be ;
The town is weel quit of that deil of Dundee.

Come, fill up, &c.

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As he rode down the sanctified bends of the Bow,
Each carline was flyting and shaking her pow;
But some young plants of grace, they looked couthie

and slee, Thinking—Luck to thy bonnet, thou bonnie Dundee !

Come, fill up, &c.

With sour-featured saints the Grassmarket was panged, As if half of the west had set tryste to be banged; There was spite in each face, there was fear in each ee, As they watched for the bonnet of bonnie Dundee.

Come, fill up, &c. The cowls of Kilmarnock had spits and had spears, And lang-hafted gullies to kill cavaliers; But they shrunk to close-heads, and the causeway left

free, At a toss of the bonnet of bonnie Dundee.

Come, fill up, &c.

He spurred to the foot of the bigh castle rock,
And to the gay Gordon he gallantly spoke:
Let Mons Meg and her marrows three volleys let flee,
For love of the bonnets of bonnie Dundee.
Come, fill

up,

&c.

The Gordon bas asked of him whither he goes Wheresoever shall guide me the soul of Montrose ;

Your Grace in short space shall have tidings of me, Or that low lies the bonnet of bonnie Dundee.

Come, fill up, &c.

There are hills beyond Pentland, and streams beyond

Forth; If there's lords in the Southland, there's chiefs in the

North; There are wild dunniewassals three thousand times three Will cry Hoigh ! for the bonnet of bonnie Dundee.

Come, fill up, &c. Away to the hills, to the woods, to the rocks, Ere I own a usurper, I'll couch with the fox: And tremble, false Whigs, though triumphant ye be, You have not seen the last of my bonnet and me.

Come, fill up, &c.
He waved his proud arm, and the trumpets were blown,
The kettle-drums clashed, and the horsemen rode on,
Till on Ravelston crags, and on Clermiston lee,
Died away the wild war-note of bonnie Dundee.

Come, fill up my cup, come, fill up my can,
Come, saddle my horses, and call up my men;
Fling all your gates open, and let me gae free,
For 'tis up with the bonnets of bonnie Dundee.*

• From an elegant little work entitled “ The Christmas-Box for 1828."

INDEX

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A COCK-LAIRD fu' cadgie,
Adieu ! a heart-warm fond adieu,
Adown winding Nith I did wander,
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever,
A friend o mine came here yestreen,
Ae morn last ouk, as I gaed out,
A gallant auld carle a-courting came,
Again rejoicing nature sees,
Ah, Chloris! could I now but sit,
Ah, the poor Shepherd's mournful fate,
A Highland lad my love was born,
A laddie and a lassie fair,
A lass that was laden wi' care,
A weary lot is thine, fair maid,
Alas, my son, you little know,
All lovely, on the sultry beach,
Although I be but a country lass,
And fare ye weel, my auld wife,
And oh, for ane-and-twenty, Tam,
And I'll o'er the muir to Maggy,
And a' that e'er my Jenny had,
And ye shall walk in silk attire,
And was ye e'er in Crail toun,
An thou were my ain thing,
Argyle is my name, and ye may think it strange,
Arouse, arouse, each kilted clan,
As I cam in by Teviot side,
As I cam down the Canongate,
As I gaed down by Tweedside,
As walking forth to view the plain,
As I cam by Loch Erroch side,
As late by a sodger I happened to pass,
As Patie cam in frae the dale,
At Polwarth on the green,
At setting sun and rising morn,

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