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Nae faries on the haunted green,

Where moonbeams twinkling shine,
Mair blythely frisk aroun' their queen,
Than we did langsyne.

Sae well's I min' ilk bonny spring
Ye on your harp did play;
An' how we used to dance and sing
The livelang simmer's day.

If ye hae not forgot the art'
To strike that harp divine,
Ye'll fin' I still can play my part,
An' sing as auld langsyne.

Though ye live on the banks o' Doun,

And me besooth the Tay,

Ye well might ride to Faukland town
Some bonny simmer's day.

And at that place where Scotland's king

Aft birl'd the beer and wine,

Let's drink an' dance, an' laugh an' sing,

An' crack o' auld langsyne.

JOHN OF BADENYON.

REV. JOHN SKINNER.

WHEN first I came to be a man of twenty years or so,

I thought myself a handsome youth, and fain the world wouldknow
In best attire I stept abroad, with spirits brisk and gay;

And here, and there, and every where, was like a morn in May.
No care I had, no fear of want, but rambled up and down,
And for a beau I might have pass'd in country or in town;
I still was pleased where'er I went; and when I was alone,
I tuned my pipe, and pleased myself wi' John o' Badenyon.

Now in the days of youthful prime, a mistress I must find;
For love, they say, gives one an air, and ev'n improves the mind.
On Phillis fair above the rest kind fortune fix'd mine eyes;
Her piercing beauty struck my heart, and she became my choice
To Cupid now, with hearty prayer, I offer'd many a vow,
And danced and sung, and sigh'd and swore, as other lovers do;

But when at last I breathed my flame, I found her cold as stone-
I left the girl, and tuned my pipe to John o' Badenyon.

When love had thus my heart beguiled with foolish hopes and vain,
To friendship's port I steer'd my course, and laugh'd at lovers' pain;
A friend I got by lucky chance-'twas something like divine;
An honest friend's a precious gift, and such a gift was mine.
And now, whatever may betide, a happy man was I,

In any strait I knew to whom I freely might apply.

A strait soon came; my friend I tried—he laugh'd, and spurn'd my moan;

I hied me home, and tuned my pipe to John o' Badenyon.

I thought I should be wiser next, and would a patriot turn,
Began to doat on Johnie Wilkes, and cry'd up parson Horne;
Their noble spirit I admired, and praised their noble zeal,
Who had, with flaming tongue and pen, maintain'd the public weal.
But, e'er a month or two had pass'd, I found myself betray'd;
'Twas Self and Party, after all, for all the stir they made.
At last I saw these factious knaves insult the very throne;
I cursed them all, and tuned my pipe to John o' Badenyon.

What next to do I mused a while, still hoping to succeed;
I pitch'd on books for company, and gravely tried to read:
I bought and borrow'd every where, and studied night and day,
Nor miss'd what dean or doctor wrote that happen'd in my way.
Philosophy I now esteem'd the ornament of youth,

And carefully, through many a page, I hunted after truth;
A thousand various schemes I tried, and yet was pleased with none;
I threw them by, and tuned my pipe to John o' Badenyon.

And now, ye youngsters every where, who wish to make a show,
Take heed in time, nor vainly hope for happiness below;
What you may fancy pleasure here is but an empty name;
And girls, and friends, and books also, you'll find them all the same.
Then be advised, and warning take from such a man as me;
I'm neither pope nor cardinal, nor one of high degree;
You'll meet displeasure every where; then do as I have done
E'en tune your pipe, and please yourself with John of Badenyon.

WHEN I BEGAN THE WORLD.

REV. JOHN SKINNER. From a manuscript collection of songs of the North of Scotland, by Peter Buchan.

Air-" The broom o' the Cowden Knowes."

WHEN I began the world first, it was not then as now,

For all was plain and simple then, and friends were kind and true;
Oh, the times! the weary times! the times that I now see,-
I think the world is all gone wrong from what it used to be.

There was not then high-cap'ring heads prick'd up from ear to ear,
And cloaks and caps were rarities for gentle folks to wear;
Oh, the times! the weary times! the times that I now see,—
I think the world is all gone wrong from what it used to be.

There's not an upstart mushroom but what pretends to taste,
And not a lass in a' the land but must be lady-dress'd;
Oh the times! the weary times! the times that I now see,-
I think the world is all gone wrong from what it used to be.

Our young men married then for love, so did our lassies too,
And children loved their parents dear, as children ought to do;
Oh, the times! the weary times! the times that I now see,-
I think the world is all gone wrong from what it used to be.

For, oh, the times are sadly changed, a heavy change indeed,
For love and friendship are no more, and honesty is fleed;
Oh, the times! the weary times! the times that I now see,-
I think the world is all gone wrong from what it used to be.

There's nothing now prevails but pride among the high and low,
And strife and greed and vanity is all that's minded now;
Oh, the times! the weary times! the times that now I see,-
I think the world is all gone wrong from what it used to be.

THE REEL O' BOGIE.

ALEXANDER, fourth DUKE OF GORDON, born 1743, died 1827. Air-" There's cauld kail in Aberdeen."

THERE'S cauld kail in Aberdeen,

And custocks in Stra'bogie,
Gin I hae but a bonnie lass,

Ye'er welcome to your cogie.
And ye may sit up a' the night,
And drink till it be braid daylight:
Gi'e me a lass baith clean and tight,
To dance the reel o' Bogie.

In cotillions the French excel,
John Bull loves country-dances;
The Spaniards dance fandangoes well,
Mynheer an allemande prances :
In foursome reels the Scots delight,
At threesomes they dance wondrous light,
But twasomes ding a' out o' sight,
Danced to the reel o' Bogie.

Come, lads, and view your partners weel, Wale each a blythesome cogie :

I'll tak' this lassie to mysel',

She looks sae keen and vogie:
Now, piper lad, bang up the spring;
The country fashion is the thing,
To prie their mou's ere we begin
To dance the reel o' Bogie.

Now ilka lad has got a lass,
Save yon auld doited fogie,
And ta'en a fling upon the grass,
As they do in Stra'bogie;
t a' the lassies look sae fain,
canna think oursel's to hain,
they maun hae their come-again
o dance the reel o' Bogie.

Now a' the lads hae done their best,
Like true men o' Stra'bogie,

We'll stop a while and tak' a rest,
And tipple out a cogie.

Come now, my lads, and tak' your glass,
And try ilk other to surpass,

In wishing health to ev'ry lass

To dance the reel o' Bogie.

This song, founded upon the popular bacchanalian ditty, the "Three-gir'd cog," was first published in "Johnson's Musical Museum," 1790.

THE BONNY BREAST-KNOTS.

From "The Ancient Minstrelsy of the North of Scotland," collected by
Peter Buchan.

THERE was a bridal in this town,
And till't the lasses a' were boun,
Wi' mauky facings on their gown,
And some o' them had breast-knots.
O the bonny, O the bonny,
Bonny, bonny, breast-knots!
Tight an' bonny were they a',

When they had on their breast-knots.

At eight o'clock the lads convene,
Some clad in blue and some in green,
Wi' shining bauchels on their sheen,
And flowers upon their waistcoats.

O the bonny, &c.

And there were mony lusty lad,
That ever handled graip or gaud,
I wot their manhood well they shew'd
At rifling o' their breast-knots.

O the bonny, &c.

The wives came ben wi' a great fraise,
An' wish'd the lassie happy days,
An' muckle thought they o' her claise,
Especially her breast-knots.

O the bonny, &c.

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