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O waly, waly, but love be bonnie

A little time while it is new;
But when it's auld it waxes cauld,

And fades away like the morning dew.
O wherefore should I busk * my heid,

Or wherefore should I kame my hair ?
For my true love has me forsook,

he'll never love me mair.

And says

Now Arthur's Seat shall be my bed,

The sheets shall ne'er be press’d by me,
St Anton's Well t shall be my drink,

Since my true love has forsaken me.
Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw,

And shake the green leaves aff the tree?
O, gentle death, when wilt thou come ?

For of my life I am wearie ?

'Tis not the frost that freezes fell,

Nor blawing snaw's inclemencie ;
'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry:

But my love's heart's grown cauld to me.
When we came in by Glasgow toun,

We were a comely sicht to see ;
My love was clad in the black velvet,

And I myself in cramasie.

But had I wist, before I wed, I

That love had been sae ill to win,
I'd lock'd my heart in a case of gold,

And pinn'd it wi' a siller pin.

Dress, arrange. † Arthur's Seat is a hill near Edinburgh, forming part of the chase which surrounds the royal palace of Holyrood. St Anton's, or St Anthony's

Well, is a small crystal spring proceeding from the side of Arthur's Seat, and ta. king its name from a hermitage half way up the hill, which it formerly supplied with water.

** Kissed,” in orig.

Oh, oh! if my young babe were born,

And set upon the nurse's knee,
And I myself were dead and gane,

And the green grass growing over me! *

THE WEE THING.

MACNÈIL.

TUNE-Bonnie Dundee.

Saw ye my wee thing? saw ye my ain thing?

Saw ye my true love down on yon lea?
Cross'd she the meadow yestreen at the gloamin?

Sought she the burnie whar flow'rs the baw-tree ?

Her hair it is lint-white; her skin it is milk-white;

Dark is the blue o' her saft-rolling ee;
Red red her ripe lips, and sweeter than roses :

Whar could my wee thing wander frae me?

Nor saw

I saw nae your wee thing, I saw nae your ain thing,

I
your

true love down on yon lea; But I met my bonnie thing late in the gloamin,

Down by the burnie whar flow'rs the haw-tree.

Her hair it was lint-white; her skin it was milk-white;

Dark was the blue o' her saft-rolling ee;
Red were her ripe lips, and sweeter than roses ;

Sweet were the kisses that she gae to me!

It was na my wee thing, it was na my ain thing,

It was na my true love ye met by the tree: Proud is her leal heart! and modest her nature !

She never loed onie till ance she loed me.

* This last line is substituted from an old nurse's copy, for one less delicate and pathetic, which has always hitherto been printed. The song appeared first in the Tea-Table Miscellany, marked with the signature Z, indicating that the editor did not know its age.

Her name it is Mary; she's frae Castle-Cary ;

Aft has she sat, when a bairn, on my knee: Fair as your face is, war't fifty times fairer,

Young bragger, she ne'er would gie kisses to thee !

It was, then, your Mary; she's frae Castle-Cary;

It was, then, your true love I met by the tree : Proud as her heart is, and modest her nature,

Sweet were the kisses that she gae to me.

Sair gloom'd his dark brow-blood-red his cheek grew

Wild flash'd the fire frae his red-rolling ee ! Ye'se rue sair, this morning, your boasts and your

scorning : Defend ye, fause traitor ! for loudly ye lie.-

Awa wi' beguiling ! cried the youth, smiling :

Aff went the bonnet; the lint-white locks flee; The belted plaid fa'ing, her white bosom shawing

Fair stood the loved maid wi' the dark-rolling ee!

Is it my wee thing ! is it mine ain thing!

Is it my true love here that I see ! -
O Jamie, forgie me; your heart's constant to me;

I'll never mair wander, dear laddie, frae thee !

OH! TELL ME HOW FOR TO W00,

HECTOR MACNEIL.

TUNE-Bonnie Dundee.

Oh tell me, oh tell me, bonnie young lassie,

Oh tell me, young lassie, how for to woo ? Oh tell me, oh tell me, bonnie sweet lassie,

Oh tell me, sweet lassie, how for to woo ?

Say, maun I roose your cheeks like the morning ?

Lips like the roses fresh moisten'd wi' dew? Say, maun I roose your een's pawkie scorning ?

Oh tell me, oh tell me, how for to woo ?

Far hae I wander'd to see thee, dear lassie!

Far bae I ventured across the saut sea !
Far bae I ventured ower muirland and mountain,

Houseless and weary, slept cauld on the lea !
Ne'er hae I tried yet to mak luve to ony,
For ne'er loved I

ony

till ance I loved you ; Now we're alane in the green wood sae bonnie,

Oh tell me, oh tell me, how for to woo ?

What care I for your wand'ring, young laddie!

What care I for your crossing the sea ! It was dae for naething ye left puir young Peggy;

It was for my tocher ye cam to court me. Say, hae ye gowd to busk me aye gaudy?

Ribbons, and pearlins, and breist-knots enew ? A house that is cantie, wi' walth in't, my laddie ?

Without this ye never need try for to woo. I bae nae gowd to busk ye aye gaudy!

I canna buy pearlins and ribbons enew! I've naething to brag o' house or o'plenty !

I've little to gie but a heart that is true. I cam na for tocher-I ne'er heard o' ony;

I never loved Peggy, nor e'er brak my vow : I've wander’d, puir fule, for a face fause as bonnie !

I little thocht this was the way for to woo !

Hae na ye

roosed my

cheeks like the morning ? Hae na ye roosed my cherry-red mou ? Hae na ye come ower sea, muir, and mountain ?

What mair, my dear Johnie, need ye for to woo ? Far hae ye wander'd, I ken, my dear laddie !

Now that ye've found me, there's nae cause to rue;

Wi' health we'll hae plenty-I'll never gang gaudy:

I ne'er wish'd for mair than a heart that is true.

She hid her fair face in her true lover's bosom;

The saft tear of transport fill'd ilk lover's ee; The burnie ran sweet by their side as they sabbit,

And sweet sang the mavis abune on the tree. He clasp'd her, he press'd her, he ca'd her his binnie,

And aften he tasted her hinnie-sweet mou'; And aye, 'tween ilk kiss, she sighed to her Johnie

Ob laddie ! oh laddie i weel weel can ye woo !

O WHA IS SHE THAT LOES ME.

BURNS.

TUNE_" Morag.
O who is she that loes me,

And has my heart a-keeping ?
O sweet is she that loes me,

As dews o'simmer weeping,
In tears the rose-bud steeping :
O that's the lassie o' my heart,

My lassie ever dearer ;
O that's the queen o' womankind,

And ne'er a ane to peer her.

If thou shalt meet a lassie

In grace and beauty charming,
That e'en thy chosen lassie,

Erewhile thy breast sae warming,
Had ne'er sic powers alarming;

O that's, &c.

If thou hadst heard her talking,

And thy attentions plighted,

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