The Carle of Kelly Burn Braes

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.

The Carle of Kelly Burn Braes

TUNE-"Kelly burn bracs."

'HERE lived a carle on Kelly burn braes

TH

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme), And he had a wife was the plague o' his days; (And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime).

Ae day as the carle gaed up the lang glen

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme), He met wi' the Deil, wha said, "How do you fen'?" (And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime).

"I've got a bad wife, sir; that's a' my complaint” (Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme), "For, saving your presence, to her ye're a saint; (And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime).

"It's neither your stot nor your staig I shall crave' (Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme), "But gie me your wife, man, for her I must have;' (And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime).

"O welcome, most kindly," the blythe carle said (Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme), "But if ye can match her, ye're waur nor ye're ca'd;'

(And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime).

The Devil has got the auld wife on his back

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme), And, like a poor pedlar, he's carried his pack; (And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime).

He's carried her hame to his ain hallan-door (Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme), Syne bade her gae in, for a bitch and a whore; (And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime).

Then straight he makes fifty, the pick o' his band (Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme), Turn out on her guard in the clap of a hand; (And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime).

The carlin gaed thro' them like ony wud bear (Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme), Whae'er she gat hands on came near her nae mair; (And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime).

The Slave's Lament

A reekit wee deevil looks over the wa'

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme), "O, help, master, help, or she'll ruin us a'!" (And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime).

The Devil he swore by the edge o' his knife (Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme), He pitied the man that was tied to a wife; (And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime).

The Devil he swore by the kirk and the bell

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme), He was not in wedlock, thank Heav'n, but in hell; (And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime).

Then Satan has travell'd again wi' his pack (Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme), And to her auld husband he's carried her back; (And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime).

"I hae been a Devil the feck o' my life"

(Hey, and the rue grows bonnie wi' thyme), "But ne'er was in hell, till I met wi' a wife;" (And the thyme it is wither'd, and rue is in prime).

The Slave's Lament

T was in sweet Senegal that my foes did me

IT Wenthral,

For the lands of Virginia, O;

Torn from that lovely shore, and must never see

it more,

And alas I am weary, weary, O!

All on that charming coast is no bitter snow or frost,

Like the lands of Virginia, O;

There streams for ever flow, and there flowers for ever blow,

And alas I am weary, weary, O!

The burden I must bear, while the cruel scourge I fear,

In the lands of Virginia, O;

And I think on friends most dear, with the bitter, bitter tear,

And alas I am weary, weary, O!

THE

The Deuk's Dang o'er my Daddie

HE bairns gat out wi' an unco shout,
"The deuk's dang o'er my daddie, O!"

"The fient ma care," quo' the feirie auld wife, "He was but a paidlin body, O!

He paidles out, and he paidles in,
An' he paidles late and early, O;

This seven lang years I hae lien by his side,
An' he is but a fusionless carlie, O."

"O haud your tongue, my feirie auld wife,
O haud your tongue now, Nansie, O:
I've seen the day, and sae hae ye,
Ye wadna been sae donsie, O;

I've seen the day ye butter'd my brose,
And cuddl'd me late and early, O;
But downa do's come o'er me now,
And, oh, I find it sairly, O!”

I'm owre Young

The Deil's awa wi' the Exciseman

HE Deil cam fiddlin' thro' the toun,

THE

And danc'd awa wi' the Exciseman;
And ilka wife cries, "Auld Mahoun,
I wish you luck o' the prize, man."

CHORUS.

The Deil's awa, the Deil's awa,

The Deil's awa wi' the Exciseman; He's danc'd awa, he's danc'd awa, He's danc'd awa wi' the Exciseman.

"We'll mak our maut, we'll brew our drink, We'll dance, and sing, and rejoice, man; And monie thanks to the meikle black Deil That's danc'd awa wi' the Exciseman." The Deil's awa, etc.

"There's threesome reels, and foursome reels, There's hornpipes and strathspeys, man; But the ae best dance e'er cam to the lan', Was-the Deil's awa wi' the Exciseman." The Deil's awa, etc.

I'm owre Young to Marry yet

I

Wi' unco folk I weary, Sir;

And lying in a man's bed,

I'm fley'd wad mak me eerie, Sir.