Α'

Lady Onlie

TUNE-"The Ruffian's Rant."

THE lads o' Thorniebank,

When they gae to the shore o' Bucky,

They'll step in an' tak a pint

Wi' Lady Onlie, honest Lucky!
Lady Onlie, honest Lucky,

Brews guid ale at shore o' Bucky;
I wish her sale for her guid ale,
The best on a' the shore o' Bucky.

Her house sae bien, her curch sae clean,
I wat she is a dainty chucky;
And cheerlie blinks the ingle-gleed
O' Lady Onlie, honest Lucky!
Lady Onlie, honest Lucky,

Brews guid ale at shore o' Bucky;
I wish her sale for her guid ale,
The best on a' the shore o' Bucky.

Theniel Menzies' Bonnie Mary

TUNE-"The Ruffian's Rant."

INCO Darlet we a blink did tarry;

N coming by the brig o' Dye,

As day was dawin' in the sky

We drank a health to bonnie Mary.
Theniel Menzies' bonnie Mary,
Theniel Menzies' bonnie Mary;
Charlie Gregor tint his plaidie,
Kissin' Theniel's bonnie Mary.

The Bonnie Lass of Albany

Her een sae bright, her brow sae white,
Her haffet locks as brown's a berry,
An' aye they dimpled wi' a smile
The rosy cheeks o' bonnie Mary.
Theniel Menzies', etc.

We lap an' danced the lee-lang day,
Till piper lads were wae an' weary,
But Charlie gat the spring to pay
For kissin' Theniel's bonnie Mary.
Theniel Menzies', etc.

The Bonnie Lass of Albany

TUNE-"Mary's Dream."

heart is wae, and unco wae,

MY To think upon the raging sea,

That roars between her gardens green
And the bonnie Lass of Albany.

This lovely maid's of royal blood
That ruled Albion's kingdoms three,

But oh, alas! for her bonnie face,
They hae wrang'd the Lass of Albany.

In the rolling tide of spreading Clyde
There sits an isle of high degree,
And a town of fame whose princely name
Should grace the Lass of Albany:

But there's a youth, a witless youth,

That fills the place where she should be; We'll send him o'er to his native shore, And bring our ain sweet Albany.

Alas! the day, and wo! the day,

A false usurper wan the gree,

Who now commands the towers and landsThe royal right of Albany.

We'll daily pray, we'll nightly pray,

On bended knees most ferventlie,

The time may come, with pipe and drum
We'll welcome hame fair Albany.

Blythe, blythe and merry was she,

Blythe was she but and ben:
Blythe by the banks of Earn,

And blythe in Glenturit glen.

Her looks were like a flower in May,
Her smile was like a simmer morn;

She tripped by the banks of Earn
As light's a bird upon a thorn.
Blythe, etc.

Her bonnie face it was as meek
As onie lamb's upon a lee;

The evening sun was ne'er sae sweet
As was the blink o' Phemie's e'e.

Blythe, etc.

A Rosebud by my Early Walk

The Highland hills I've wander'd wide,
And o'er the Lowlands I hae been;
But Phemie was the blythest lass
That ever trod the dewy green.
Blythe, etc.

A

A Rosebud by my Early Walk

TUNE-"The Shepherd's Wife."

ROSEBUD by my early walk,
Adown a corn-enclosed bawk,
Sae gently bent its thorny stalk,
All on a dewy morning.

Ere twice the shades o' dawn are fled,
In a' its crimson glory spread,
And drooping rich the dewy head,
It scents the early morning.

Within the bush, her covert nest
A little linnet fondly prest,

The dew sat chilly on her breast
Sae early in the morning.

She soon shall see her tender brood,
The pride, the pleasure o' the wood,
Amang the fresh green leaves bedew'd,
Awake the early morning.

So thou, dear bird, young Jeanie fair,
On trembling string or vocal air,
Shalt sweetly pay the tender care
That tents thy early morning.

So thou, sweet rosebud, young and gay,
Shalt beauteous blaze upon the day,
And bless the parent's evening ray
That watch'd thy early morning.

Ho

The Banks of the Devon

WOW pleasant the banks of the clear winding
Devon,

With green spreading bushes, and flowers blooming fair!

But the bonniest flower on the banks of the Devon Was once a sweet bud on the braes of the Ayr.

Mild be the sun on this sweet blushing flower,

In the gay rosy morn as it bathes in the dew! And gentle the fall of the soft vernal shower, That steals on the evening each leaf to renew.

O, spare the dear blossom, ye Orient breezes, With chill hoary wing as ye usher the dawn! And far be thou distant, thou reptile that seizes The verdure and pride of the garden and lawn!

Let Bourbon exult in his gay gilded lilies,

And England triumphant display her proud rose; A fairer than either adorns the green valleys Where Devon, sweet Devon, meandering flows.

Peggy's Charms

TUNE-" Neil Gow's lamentation for Abercairny."

WHI

HERE, braving angry winter's storms,
The lofty Ochils rise,

Far in their shade my Peggy's charms
First blest my wondering eyes.
As one who, by some savage stream,
A lonely gem surveys,

Astonish'd doubly, marks it beam
With art's most polish'd blaze.