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Dinna gang, my bonnie lad, dinna gang and leave me; Dinna gang, my

bonnie lad, dinna gang and leave me; When a' the lave are sound asleep, I am dull and eerie; And a' the lee-lang night I'm sad, wi' thinking on my

dearie.

() dinna think, bonnie lassie, I'm gaun to leave thee; Dinna think, bonnie lassie, I'm gaun to leave thee; Dinna think, bonnie lassie, I'm gaun to leave thee; Whene'er the sun gaes out o' sight, I'll come again

and see thee.

Waves are rising o'er the sea ; winds blaw loud and

fear me;

Waves are rising o'er the sea ; winds blaw loud and

fear me. While the winds and waves do roar, I am wae and

drearie, Andgin ye loe me as ye say, ye winna gang and leave me. O never mair, bonnie lassie, will I gang and leave thee; Never mair, bonnie lassie, will I gang and leave thee; Never mair, bonnie lassie, will I gang and leave thee; E’en let the world gang as it will, i'll stay at hame

and cheer thee.

Frae his hand he coost his stick; I winna gang and

leave thee; Threw his plaid into the neuk; never can I grieve thee; Drew his boots, and flang them by; cried, My lass, be

cheerie; I'll kiss the tear frae aff thy cheek, and never leave my

dearie.

BONNIE MARY HAY.

CRAWFORD.

Bonnie Mary Hay, I will loe thee yet;
For thine

eye is the slae, and thy hair is the jet;
The snaw is thy skin, and the rose is thy cheek;
O, bonnie Mary Hay, I will loe thee yet !
O, bonnie Mary Hay, will ye gang wi' me,
When the sun's in the west, to the hawthorn tree,
To the bawthorn tree, and the bonnie berry den?
And I'll tell thee, Mary Hay, how I loe thee then.
O, bonnie Mary Hay, it is haliday to me,
When thou art couthie, kind, and free;
There's nae clouds in the lift, nor storms in the sky,
Bonnie Mary Hay, when thou art nigh.
O, bonnie Mary Hay, thou mauna say me nay,
But come to the bower by the hawthorn brae;
But come to the bower, and I'll tell ye a' what's true,
How, bonnie Mary Hay, I can loe nane but you.*

BEHAVE YOURSELL BEFORE FOLK.

TUNE-Good morning to your night-cap.

Behave yoursell before folk,

Behave yoursell before folk,
And dinna be sae rude to me,

As kiss me sae before folk.

* From an amusing series of Scottish traditionary stories, entitled “ Tales of my Grandmother," 1825.

It wouldna give me meikle pain,
Gin we were seen and heard by nane,
To tak a kiss or grant you ane;

But gudesake! no before folk.
Behave yoursell before folk,
Behave yoursell before folk,

do when out of view,
Be cautious aye before folk.

Whate'er you

Consider, lad, how folks will crack,
And what a great affair they'll mak
O'naething but a simple smack
That's

gien or taen before folk.
Behave yoursell before folk,

Behave yoursell before folk,
Nor gie the tongue o' auld or young

Occasion to come o'er folk.

I'm sure wi' you I've been as free,
As
ony

modest lass should be, But yet it doesna do to see

Sic freedom used before folk.
Behave yoursell before folk,

Behave yoursell before folk,
I'll ne'er submit again to it

So mind you that before folk.

Ye tell me that my face is fair ;
It
may

be sae—I dinna care-
But ne'er again gar't blush sae sair
As
ye

hae done before folk.
Behave yoursell before folk,
Behave yoursell before folk,
Nor heat

my
cheeks wi'

your

mad freaks, But aye

be douce before folk.

Ye tell me that my lips are sweet ;
Sic tales, I doubt, are a' deceit :

At ony rate, it's hardly meet

To prie their sweets before folk.
Behave yoursell before folk,

Behave yoursell before folk,
Gin that's the case, there's time and place,

But surely no before folk.
But gin ye really do insist
That I should suffer to be kiss'd,
Gae get a license frae the priest,

And mak me yours before folk.
Behave yoursell before folk,

Bebave yoursell before folk,
And when we're ane, baith flesh and bane,
Ye
may

tak ten-before folk,

THE GOWAN O' THE WEST.

H. AINSLIE.

Gae bring to me a stoup o' wine,

Gae fill it to the ee,
That I may drink a deep deep health
To her

my
heart
gangs

wi'.

Gae bring to me a wooer youth,

That I, to ease my woes,
May brag my Gowan o' the West

Against his Southern Rose.

She may be gentle, thy heart's love,

She may be fair and fine,
But, by the heaven abune our head,
She canna be like mine.

Oh, her cheek's like the rosie glow

That maks the burdies chirl ;
Her ee is like the lichtnin's lowe,

That gars the beart-strings dir).

Her lips are like the cherries twin

That grow upon ae shank;
Her breath-it beats the simmer win'

In the lowne o' a flowery bank.

Her neck is like the siller stoure

That oozes frae the linu ;
Her breist-oh! it's a lilie bouir,

That ane wad fain lie in.

Awa, awa, ye wooer youth !

Yours may be fair and fine;
But, by the heaven abune our heads,

She canna be like mine.

SONG.

Air-Bide ye yet.

Drink it yet, drink it yet,
We're no just sae fou but we'll drink it yet ;
To the name that is dear, though we winna tell here,
We'll tout aff a bumper, and think it yet.

It's never o'er late when sittin' wi' you;
The warst that can happen is only get fou ;
But though we get fou, we'll never forget
Our Friend an' our Lassie--Sae drink it yet.

Drink it yet, &c.

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