'Life's cares they are comforts','—a maxim laid down [gown; By the bard, what d'ye call him, that wore the black And faith I agree with th' old prig to a hair, For a big-bellied bottle's a heav'n of care. A Stanza added in a Mason Lodge. Then fill up a bumper, and make it o'erflow, And honours masonic prepare for to throw; May every true brother of the compass and square Have a big-bellied bottle when harass'd with care. HIGHLAND MARY. TUNE-Katharine Ogie. YE banks, and braes, and streams around The castle o' Montgomery, Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, Your waters never drumlie! There simmer first unfald her robes, And there the langest tarry; How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, Young's Night Thoughts. AULD LANG SYNE. Wi' mony a vow, and lock'd embrace, We tore oursels asunder; But oh! fell death's untimely frost, Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay, O, pale, pale now, those rosy lips, AULD LANG SYNE. SHOULD auld acquaintance be forgot, CHORUS. For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, For auld lang syne. We twa hae run about the braes, But we've wander'd mony a weary foot For auld, &c. 171 We twa hae paidl't i' the burn, From mornin sun till dine: But seas between us braid hae roar'd For auld, &c. And here's a hand, my trusty fiere, And gie's a hand o' thine; And we'll tak a right guid willie-waught, For auld lang syne. For auld, &c. And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp, And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet For auld lang syne. For auld, &c. BANNOCKBURN. Robert Bruce's Address to his Army. Scors, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Now's the day, and now's the hour; See approach proud Edward's power- Wha will be a traitor knave? Traitor! coward! turn and flee? FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT. By oppression's woes and pains! Lay the proud usurpers low! Forward! let us do, or die! 173 FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT. Is there, for honest poverty, That hangs his head, and a' that? Our toils obscure, and a' that, What tho' on hamely fare we dine, Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, For a' that, and a' that, Their tinsel show, and a' that; The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor, Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord, Wha struts, and stares, and a' that; His riband, star, and a' that, A prince can mak a belted knight, Their dignities, and a' that, The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, Then let us pray that come it may, As come it will for a' that, That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, For a' that, and a' that, It's coming yet, for a' that, That man to man, the warld o'er, DAINTY DAVIE. Now rosy May comes in wi' flowers, |