LAST MAY A BRAW WOOER.

TUNE-LOTHIAN LASSIE,'

LAST May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen,
And sair wi' his love he did deave me :

I said there was naething I hated like men,
The deuce gae wi'm to believe me, believe me,
The deuce gae wi'm to believe me.

He spak o' the darts in my bonnie black een,
And vow'd for my love he was dying;
I said he might die when he liked for Jean :
The Lord forgie me for lying, for lying,
The Lord forgie me for lying!

A weel-stocked mailen, himsel for the laird,
And marriage aff-hand, were his proffers:
I never loot on that I kenn'd it, or car'd;

But thought I might hae waur offers, waur offers,
But thought I might hae waur offers.

But what wad ye think? in a fortnight or less,
The deil tak his taste to gae near her!
He up the lang loan to my black cousin Bess,
Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her, could

bear her,

Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her.

But a' the niest week as I fretted wi' care,
I gaed to the tryste o' Dalgarnock,
And wha but my fine fickle lover was there,
I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock, a warlock,
I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock.

But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink,
Lest neebors might say I was saucy;

My wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink,
And vow'd I was his dear lassie, dear lassie,
And vow'd I was his dear lassie.

I spier'd for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet,
Gin she had recover'd her hearin,

And how her new shoon fit her auld shachl't feetBut, Heavens! how he fell a swearin, a swearin, But, Heavens! how he fell a swearin.

He begged, for Gudesake! I wad be his wife,
Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrow:

So e'en to preserve the poor body in life,

I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow, I think I maun wed him to-morrow.

HEY FOR A LASS WI' A TOCHER.

TUNE- BALINAMONA ORA.'

AWA wi' your witchcraft o' beauty's alarms,
The slender bit beauty you grasp in your arms:
O, gie me the lass that has acres o' charms,
O, gie me the lass wi' the weel-stockit farms.

CHORUS.

Then hey, for a lass wi' a tocher, then hey, for a lass wi' a tocher,

Then hey, for a lass wi' a tocher; the nice yellow guineas for me.

Your beauty's a flower in the morning that blows, And withers the faster, the faster it grows;

But the rapturous charm o' the bonie green knowes, Ilk spring they're new deckit wi' bonie white yowes. Then hey, &c.

And e'en when this beauty your bosom has blest, The brightest o' beauty may cloy, when possest; But the sweet yellow darlings wi' Geordie imprest, The langer ye hae them—the mair they're carest. Then hey, &c.

ALTHO THOU MAUN NEVER BE MINE. TUNE-'HERE's a health tO THEM THAT'S AWA, HINEY.'

CHORUS.

Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear,

Here's a health to ane I lo'e dear;

Thou art as sweet as the smile when fond lovers

meet,

And soft as their parting tear-Jessy!

ALTHO' thou maun never be mine,

Altho' even hope is denied ;

'Tis sweeter for thee despairing,

Than aught in the world beside-Jessy!
Here's a health, &c.

I mourn thro' the gay, gaudy day,
As, hopeless, I muse on thy charms:
But welcome the dream o' sweet slumber,
For then I am lockt in thy arms-Jessy!
Here's a health, &c.

I guess by the dear angel smile,

I guess by the love-rolling ee;
But why urge the tender confession

'Gainst fortune's fell cruel decree-Jessy!
Here's a health, &c.

THE BIRKS OF ABERFELDY.

CHORUS.

Bonie lassie, will ye go, will ye go, will ye go,
Bonie lassie, will ye go to the Birks of Aberfeldy?

Now simmer blinks on flowery braes,
And o'er the crystal streamlet plays,
Come let us spend the lightsome days
In the Birks of Aberfeldy.
Bonie lassie, &c.

While o'er their heads the hazels hing,
The little birdies blithly sing,

Or lightly flit on wanton wing
In the Birks of Aberfeldy.
Bonie lassie, &c.

The braes ascend like lofty wa's,
The foaming stream deep roaring fa's,
O'er-hung wi' fragrant spreading shaws,
The Birks of Aberfeldy.

Bonie lassie, &c.

The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi' flowers,
White o'er the linns the burnie pours,
And rising, weets wi' misty showers
The Birks of Aberfeldy.

Bonie lassie, &c.

Let fortune's gifts at random flee,
They ne'er shall draw a wish frae me,
Supremely blest wi' love and thee,
In the Birks of Aberfeldy.
Bonie lassie, &c.

THE YOUNG HIGHLAND ROVER.

TUNE-MORAG.'

LOUD blaw the frosty breezes,
The snaws the mountains cover;
Like winter on me seizes,

Since my young Highland Rover
Far wanders nations over.
Where'er he go, where'er he stray,
May Heaven be his warden :
Return him safe to fair Strathspey,
And bonie Castle-Gordon !

The trees now naked groaning,
Shall soon wi' leaves be hinging,
The birdies dowie moaning,
Shall a' be blithely singing.
And every flower be springing.
Sae I'll rejoice the lee-lang day,
When by his mighty warden

My youth's return'd to fair Strathspey,
And bonie Castle-Gordon.