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Fearful soughs the boortree bank,

The rifted wood roars wild and dreary ;
Loud the iron yate goes clank,
And cry of howlets makes me eerie.

Oh, are ye sleeping, Maggie, &c.

Aboon

my

breath I darna speak,
For fear I rouse your waukrife daddie ;
Cauld's the blast upon my cheek,-
Oh, rise, rise, my bonny ladye !

Oh, are ye sleeping, Maggie, &c.

She opt the door, she let him in,

He cuist aside his dreeping plaidie. “Blaw your warst, ye rain and win',

Since, Maggie, now I'm in aside ye.”

Now since ye're waking, Maggie,
Now since ye're waking, Maggie ;
What care I for the howlet's cry,
For boortree bank, or warlock craigie !

LOUDON’S BONNIE WOODS AND BRAES.

ROBERT TANNAHILL.

“ Loudon's bonnie woods and braes,

I maun leave them a', lassie;
Wha can thole when Britain's faes

Would gie to Britons law, lassie ?
Wha wad shun the field o' danger ?
Wha to fame would live a stranger ?
Now when freedom bids avenge her,

Wha should shun her ca', lassie?
Loudon's bonnie woods and braes
Has seen our happy bridal days,
And gentle hope shall soothe thy waes,

When I am far awa, lassie.

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“Hark, the swelling bugle rings,

Yielding joy to thee, laddie;
But the dolefu' bugle brings

Waefu' thochts to me, laddie.
Lanely I may climb the mountain,
Lapely stray beside the fountain,
Still the weary moments counting,

Far frae love and thee, laddie.
Ower the gory fields o' war,
Where vengeance drives his crimson car,
Thou may fa' frae me afar,

And nane to close thy ee, laddie.”

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“Oh, resume thy wonted smile,

Oh, suppress thy fears, lassie;
Glorious honour crowns the toil

That the soldier shares, lassie.
Heaven will shield thy faithful lover
Till the vengeful strife is over ;
Then we'll meet nae mair to sever,

Till the day we dee, lassie.
Midst our bonnie woods and braes
We'll spend our peaceful, happy days,
As blythe's yon lichtsome lamb that plays

On Loudon's flowery lea, lassie.”

WHAT AILS THIS HEART ?

SUSANNA BLAMIRE.
Air-"Sir James Baird's favourite," or "My dearie, an' thou dee."

What ails this heart o’mine?

What ails this watery ee ?
What gars me a' turn cauld as death

When I take leave o' thee?
When thou art far awa',

Thou'lt dearer grow to me;
But change o' place and change o' folk

May gar thy fancy jee.

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Gin livin' worth could win my heart,

You would not speak in vain ;
But in the darksome grave it’s laid,

Never to rise again.
My waefu' heart lies low wi' his,

Whose heart was only mine ;
And, oh, what a heart was that to lose !

But I maup no repine.

Yet, oh, gin Heaven in mercy soon

Would grant the boon I crave,
And take this life, now naething worth,

Sin' Jamie's in his grave !
And see, his gentle spirit comes,

To show me on my way;
Surprised, nae doubt, I still am here,

Sair wondering at my stay.

I come,

I

come, my Jamie dear,
And, oh, wi' what gude will
I follow wheresoe'er ye lead,

Ye canna lead to ill.
She said, and soon a deadly pale

Her faded cheek possess'd ;
Her waefu' heart forgot to beat,

Her sorrows sunk to rest.

This excellent song is erroneously stated in the notes to the collection of melodies published in Glasgow in 1841, under the title of “ The Garland of Scotia," to be the production of one Jeanie Ferguson.

AND YE SHALL WALK IN SILK ATTIRE.

SUSANNA BLAMIRE. From the “ Musical Museum," 1790.

Air" The siller crown."

AND

ye

shall walk in silk attire,
And siller hae to spare,
Gin ye'll consent to be his bride,

Nor think o' Donald mair.
Oh, wha wad buy a silken goun

Wi' a puir broken heart?
Or what's to me a siller

crown,
Gin frae my love I part?

The mind whase every wish is pure

Far dearer is to me;
And e'er I'm forced to break my faith,

I'll lay me down and dee :

For I hae pledged my virgin troth

Brave Donald's fate to share,
And he has gi’en to me his heart,

Wi' a' its virtues rare.

His gentle manners wan my heart,

He gratefu' took the gift ;
Could I but think to see it back,

It wad be waur than theft.
For langest life can ne'er repay

The love he bears to me;
And e'er I'm forced to break my troth,

I'll lay me down and dee.

I WINNA GANG BACK.

RICHARD GALL, born 1776, died 1801.

I WINNA gang back to my mammy again,
I'll never gae back to my mammy again ;
I've held by her apron these aught years an' ten,
But I'll never gang back to my mammy again.

P've held by her apron, &c.

Young Johnnie cam' down i' the gloamin' to woo, Wi' plaidie sae bonnie an' bonnet sae blue :

Oh, come awa', lassie, ne'er let mammy ken;" An' I flew wi' my laddie o'er meadow an' glen.

Oh, come awa', lassie, &c.

mou';

He ca'd me his dawtie, his dearie, his dow,
An' press'd hame his words wi' a smack o'

my While I fell on his bosom, heart-flichter'd an' fain, An' sigh'd out, “ O Johnnie, I'll aye be your ain !"

While I fell on his bosom, &c.

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