Young Jockey

Her closed eyes, like weapons sheath'd,
Were seal'd in soft repose;

Her lips, still as she fragrant breath'd,
It richer dyed the rose.
The springing lilies sweetly prest,
Wild-wanton kiss'd her rival breast;
He gaz'd, he wish'd,

He fear'd, he blush'd,

His bosom ill at rest.

Her robes, light-waving in the breeze,
Her tender limbs embrace;
Her lovely form, her native ease,
All harmony and grace!
Tumultuous tides his pulses roll,
A faltering, ardent kiss he stole ;
He gaz'd, he wish'd,

He fear'd, he blush'd,

And sigh'd his very soul.

As flies the partridge from the brake

On fear-inspired wings,

So Nelly, starting, half awake,
Away affrighted springs;
But Willie follow'd-as he should,
He overtook her in the wood:

He vow'd, he pray'd,

He found the maid

Forgiving all and good.

Young Jockey

YOUNG Jockey was the blythest lad

In a' our town or here awa;

Fu' blythe he whistled at the gaud,
Fu' lightly danc'd he in the ha'!

He roos'd my een sae bonnie blue,
He roos'd my waist sae genty sma';
An' aye my heart cam to my mou,
When ne'er a body heard or saw.

My Jockey toils upon the plain,

Thro' wind and weet, thro' frost and snaw; And o'er the lea I leuk fu' fain

When Jockey's owsen hameward ca'.
An' aye the night comes round again,
When in his arms he taks me a';
An' aye he vows he'll be my ain
As lang's he has a breath to draw.

TH

The Banks of Nith

HE Thames flows proudly to the sea,
Where royal cities stately stand;

But sweeter flows the Nith to me,

Where Comyns ance had high command:
When shall I see that honour'd land,
That winding stream I love so dear!
Must wayward Fortune's adverse hand
For ever, ever keep me here?

How lovely, Nith, thy fruitful vales,

Where spreading hawthorns gaily bloom! How sweetly wind thy sloping dales,

Where lambkins wanton thro' the broom! Tho' wandering, now, must be my doom, Far from thy bonnie banks and braes, May there my latest hours consume, Amang the friends of early days!

Tibbie Dunbar

Jamie, come try me

TUNE-"Jamie, come try me."

F thou should ask my love,

I Could I deny thee?

If thou would win my love,
Jamie, come try me!

CHORUS.

Jamie, come try me,
Jamie, come try me;
If thou would win my love,
Jamie, come try me!

If thou should kiss me, love,
Wha could espy thee?

If thou wad be my love,
Jamie, come try me!

Jamie, come try me, etc.

Tibbie Dunbar

TUNE-"Johnny M'Gill."

WILT thou go wi' me, sweet Tibbie Dunbar?

O wilt thou go wi' me, sweet Tibbie Dunbar? Wilt thou ride on a horse, or be drawn in a car, Or walk by my side, O sweet Tibbie Dunbar? I care na thy daddie, his lands and his money, I care na thy kin, sae high and sae lordly: But say thou wilt hae me for better for waur,

And come in thy coatie, sweet Tibbie Dunbar.

J

John Anderson, my Jo

OHN ANDERSON, my jo, John,
When we were first acquent,
Your locks were like the raven,
Your bonnie brow was brent;
But now your brow is beld, John,
Your locks are like the snow;
But blessings on your frosty pow,
John Anderson, my jo.

John Anderson, my jo, John,

We clamb the hill thegither;
And monie a canty day, John,
We've had wi' ane anither:
Now we maun totter down, John,
But hand in hand we'll go,
And sleep thegither at the foot,
John Anderson, my Jo.

Μ'

My Love she's but a Lassie yet

TUNE-"Lady Badinscoth's Reel."

Y love she's but a lassie yet;
My love she's but a lassie yet;
We'll let her stand a year or twa,

She'll no be half sae saucy yet.
I rue the day I sought her, O,

I rue the day I sought her, O;
Wha gets her needs na say she's woo'd,
But he may say he's bought her, O!

Come, draw a drap o' the best o't yet;
Come, draw a drap o' the best o't yet;

Gae seek for pleasure where ye will,
But here I never miss'd it yet.

Tam Glen

We're a' dry wi' drinking o't,
We're a' dry wi' drinking o't;
The minister kiss'd the fiddler's wife,
An' could na preach for thinkin' o't.

MY

Tam Glen

TUNE-" The mucking o' Geordie's byre."

Y heart is a-breaking, dear Tittie, Some counsel unto me come len', To anger them a' is a pity;

But what will I do wi' Tam Glen?

I'm thinking, wi' sic a braw fellow,
In poortith I might mak a fen';
What care I in riches to wallow,

If I maunna marry Tam Glen?

There's Lowrie the laird o' Dumeller,
"Guid-day to you, brute!" he comes ben:

He brags and he blaws o' his siller,

But when will he dance like Tam Glen?

My minnie does constantly deave me,
And bids me beware o' young men;
They flatter, she says, to deceive me;
But wha can think sae o' Tam Glen?

My daddie says, gin I'll forsake him,
He'll gie me guid hunder marks ten:
But, if it's ordain'd I maun take him,
O wha will I get but Tam Glen?

Yestreen at the valentines' dealing,

My heart to my mou gied a sten:
For thrice I drew ane without failing,
And thrice it was written, "Tam Glen."