Happy, thou Indian grove, I'll say, SONG. Tune, 'Fee him Father." THOU hast left me ever, Jamie, Thou hast left me ever. Thou hast left me ever, Jamie, Thou hast left me ever. Aften hast thou vow'd that death, Only should us sever. Now thou 'st left thy lass for ay-I maun see thee never, Jamie, I'll see thee never. Thou hast me forsaken, Jamie, Thou hast me for saken. Thou hast me forsaken, Jamie, Thou hast me for. saken. Thou canst love anither jo, While my heart is breaking. Soon my weary een I'll close-Never mair to waken, Jamie, Ne'er mair to waken. AULD LANG SYNE. SHOULD auld acquaintance be forgot, CHORUS. For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, We twa hae run about the braes, But we've wandered mony a weary foot, For auld, &c. We twa hae paidl't i' the burn, But seas between us braid hae roar'd, For auld, &c. And here's a hand, my trusty fiere, And gie's a haud 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, BANNOCK-BURN. ROBERT BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY. SCOTS wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led; 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! Wha for Scotland's king and law By oppression's woes and pains! Lay the proud usurpers low! Liberty's in every blow! Forward! let us do, or die! FAIR JENNY. Tune,' Saw ye my father?' WHERE are the joys I have met in the morning, No more a winding the course of yon river, Is it that summer's forsaken our valleys, No, no, the bees humming round the gay roses, Fain would I hide what I fear to discover, All that has caused this wreck in my bosom, Is Jenny, fair Jenny alone. Time cannot aid me, my griefs are immortal, Nor hope dare a comfort bestow: Come then, enamour'd and fond of my anguish, Enjoyment I'll seek in my woe. DELUDED Swain, the pleasure Thy hopes will soon deceive thee. The billows on the ocean, O! art thou not ashamed, Go, find an honest fellow, Good claret set before thee: And then to bed in glory. |