Nationa Library of Scotland

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Nationa Library of Scotland

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FLOWERS

OF

SCOTTISH MELODY:

A

SELECTION OF POPULAR SCOTCH SONGS.

THE MUSIC BY EMINENT COMPOSERS.

ARRANGED FOR

rais Y©MSEs IPILiOTEs '3,n©ILHHs &X!„

Jpourt!) iSaitfon.

BELFAST. JOHN HENDERSON, PUBLISHER.

DUBLIN: JAMES M’GLASHAN. EDINBURGH: N. BOWICK. GLASGOW: R. GRIFFIN, AND CO.

1849.

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CONTENTS.

PAGE. Auld Robin Gray, . . . . And ye shall walk in Silk attire, A Man’s a Man for a’ that, Annie Laurie, . .... Ar^ryle is my Name, Auld Rob Morris, . . ; . Auld Langsyne, .... A Highland Laddie heard of War, . And this is nae my ain House, . An’ thou wert my ain Thing ! . Ay Waukin’, O ! Bonnie Jean, Braw, braw Lads, .... Bonnie Wee Thing, .... Bonnie Wood of Craigielee, Blue Bonnets over the Border, Bide ye, Billy, O bide ye yet, . Charlie is my Darling, Come o’er the Stream, Charlie, Come under my Plaidy, Cam’ ye by Athol ? . Ca’ the Ewes to the Knowes, . Contented \vi’ Little, Caledonians, Brave and Bold! . Donald o’ Dundee, .... Duncan Gray, Donald and Flora, .... Dainty Davie, Despairing Mary, .... Donald, ...... Draw the Sword, Scotland ! Ettrick Banks, Farewell thou Stream, Farewell to Lochaber, Green grow the Rashes, O, . . Gloomy Winter’s now awa’, . He’s owre the Hills, .... Highland Mary, .... Hand awa' frae me, Donald, Had I a Cave, .... Here awa', there awa’, Here’s a health to them that’s awa’,

1 74 99

126 140 145 150 153 175 184 180 90 34 46 54 94

152 2 4

31 156 181 188 189 23 24, 72:

128! 138' 144j 186 97 86

158 60

102 5

38 68 84

116

PAGE. I Lo’e nae a Laddie but ane, . . 28 I’m o’er young to Marry yet, . . 30 I gaed a Waefu* Gate Yestreen, . 1K) John Anderson, my Jo, ... 25 Jessie, the flower o’ Dumblane, . 37 Jock o’ Hazeldean, . . . .95 Jeanie Lee, 133 Johnnie Cope, 160 Kind Robin Lo’es me, . . .75 Leezy Lindsay, 7 Logie o’ Buchan, .... 43 Logan Water, 47 Last May a Braw Wooer, . . 48 Lucy’s Flittin’, 51 Loudon’s Bonnie Woods and Braes, 55 Lassie wi’ the Lint-white Locks, . 63 Let us haste to Kelvin Grove, . . 78 Lord Gregory, 81 Laddie, oh, Leave me, . . .119 Mary Morrison, .... 7 My ain Fireside, .... 8 My Boy, Tammy, .... 10 My Love she’s but a Lassie yet, . 30 Maggy Lauder, .... 42 My Heart is sair for Somebody, . 93 My Nannie, O, . . . .106 My only Jo and Dearie, O, . .109 Mary Bawn, 136 My Tocher’s the Jewel, . . .167 My Love’s in Germany, . . .171 My ain Kind Dearie, O, . . .179 My Wife has ta’en the Gee, . .183 O ! dinna ask me gin I Lo’e ye, . 27 O, are ye sleeping, Maggy ? . . 41 O, dinna think, Bonnie Lassie, . 62 O, Mary, ye’se be clad in Silk, . . 75 O, this is no my ain Lassie, . . 77 O, Poortith Cauld, . . . . 80 O, wat ye wha that Lo’es me ? . . 83 O, Nannie, wilt thou gang wi’ me ?. 85 Oh ! Open the door '89 O’ a’ the airts the Win’ can Blaw, . 108

CONTENTS

O, were I on Parnassus Hill, O, Waly, Waly, O, saw ye Bonnie Lesley ? Och ! hey, Johnnie lad, O, wert thou in the cauld Blast, O, Tibbie, I hae seen the day, . Pibroch of Donuil Dhu, . Roy’s Wife of Aldivalloch, Row weel, my boatie, row weel, Robin Adair, .... Saw ye my wee thing ? Scots, wha hae wi’ Wallace bled, Saw ye Johnnie cornin’, Tak your Auld Cloak about you, There’s nae luck about the House, The Laird o’ Cockpen, The Brisk Young Lad, The Ewe-bughts, The Lass of Arranteenie, . Their Groves o’ Sweet Myrtle, The Flowers of the Forest . The Braes of Balquither, . The Braes aboon Bonaw, . The Birks of Aberfeldy, . The Lass o’ Gowrie, The Ewie wi’ the Crooked Horn, The Star of Glengarry, The Blue Bells of Scotland, Turn again, thou fair Eliza, The Banks of Allan Water, Thou dark winding Carron, True-hearted was he, . The Braes o’ Gleniffer, The Red, Red Rose, .

PAGE The Bonnie Brier Bush, . . .115 Thou art Gane awa’ frae me, Mary, . 118 The Wauking o’the Fauld, . .120 The Black-haired Laddie, . . .122 The Yellow-haired Laddie, . .123 The Jolly Beggar, . . . .124 Tam Glen 129 The Banks of the Devon, . • .134 The Waefu’ Heart, . . . .135 Thou has left me ever, Jamie, . .143 The Boatie Rows, . . . .146 The Land o’ the Leal, . . .148 Tullochgorum, 154 The Flowers of Edinburgh, . .159 The Bonnie Breast-knots, . .163 The last time I cam’ owre the Muir, 164 The Fair Maid of Perth, . . .166 The Gathering of the Clans, . .168 The Lass of Patie’s Mill, . . .170 The Broom o* Cowdenknowes, . 176 The year that’s awa’ . . .187 The Lament of Flora Macdonald, . 190 Wae’s me for Prince Charlie, . . 17 Wha’ll be King but Charlie ? . .20 Whistle and I’ll come to you, my lad, 26 What can a Young Lassie ? . .33 Wilt thou be my Dearie ? . . 92 What ails this Heart o’ Mine ? . . 117 When the Kye come Hame, . .130 Weel may the keel row, . .149 Wha wadna fight for Charlie ? . . 174 Ye banks and braes o’ bonnie Doon, . 103 Young Peggy, 178

PAGE 111 112 114 132 139 172 50 69

162 182

11 13

142 14 15 19 21 35 40 45 53 57 58 59 64 66 70 79 88 98

101 104 105 105

FLOWERS OF SCOTTISH MELODY.

Slowly. AULD ROBIN GRAY.

fc=|!E±: Young Ja - mie lo’ed me weel, and sought me for his bride, But

fuzT= -N I o—m

sav - ing a crown he had nee - - thing be - - side;

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To

make the crown a pound, my Ja - mie went to sea, And the

»lr» crown and the pound were baith for me. He had-na been gane a

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week but on--ly twa, When my fa-ther brake his arm, and our

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m cow was stown a--wa’; My mi - ther she fell sick, and my

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Steil Ja - mie at the sea. And auld Rob-in Gray came a - court - ing me

2 FLOWERS OF SCOTTISH MELODY.

My father couldna work, and my mither couldna spin, I toil’d day and night, but their bread I couldna win ; Auld Rob maintain’d them baith, and wi’ tears in his e’e, Said, Jenny, for their sakes, will ye marry me? My heart it said nay, I look’d for Jamie back; But the wind it blew high, and the ship it was a wreck; The ship it was a wreck, why didna Jenny die ? And why do I live to say, wae is me ?

My father urged me sair, though my mither didna speak, She look’d in my face till my heart was like to break; So I gied him my hand, though my heart was in the sea, And auld Robin Gray is gudeman to me. I hadna been a wife a week but only four, AVhen sitting sae mournfully at my ain door, I saw my Jamie’s wraith, for I couldna think it he, Till he said, I’m come back, love, to marry thee.

0 sair did we greet, and muckle did we say; We took but a kiss, and we tore ourselves away; 1 wish I were dead, but I am not like to die ; And why do I live to say, wae is me ? I gang like a ghaist, and carena to spin; I darena think on Jamie, for that would be a sin; But I’ll do my best a gude wife to be. For auld Robin Gray is kind unto me.

CHARLIE IS MY DARLING. With energy.

qEEgE 31

is my dar-ling, my dar-ling, my dar-ling, Oh!

*1; m ^ Char-lie is my darling, the yourig Chevalier. ’Twas on a Monday morning, RigU

FLOWERS OF SCOTTISH MELODY, 3

jpUjl ear - ly in the year, When Char - lie came to our town, The

E

young Che - va - Her. Oh ! Char - lie is my dar-ling, my dar-ling,

• ' *

my dar - ling, Oh! Char-lie is my dar-ling, the young Che-va-Her.

As he came marching up the street, The pipes play’d loud and clear;

And a’ the folks came rinnin’ out To meet the Chevalier.

Oh! Charlie, &c.

Wi’ Hieland bonnets on their heads, And claymores bright and clear,

They came to fight for Scotland’s right And the young Chevalier.

Oh! Charlie, &c.

They’ve left their bonny Hieland hills, Their wives and hairnies dear,

To draw the sword for Scotland’s lord, The young Chevalier.

Oh! Charlie, &c.

Oh! there were mony beating hearts, And mony hopes and fears;

And mony were the pray’rs put up For the young Chevalier.

Oh! Charlie, &c.


COME O’ER THE STREAM, CHARLIE. With spirit.

^5 Come o’er the stream, Charlie, dear Charlie, brave Charlie, Come o’er the stream,

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Charlie, and dine wi’ Maclean ; And though you be weary, we’ll mak’ your heart

SZOE chee - - ry, And wel-come our Char - lie, and his loy - al train. We’ll

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bring down the red deer, we’ll bring down the black steer, The lamb from the

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P5 breckan, and doe from the glen; The salt sea we’ll harry, and bring to our

Charlie, The cream from the bo - thy, and curd from the pen. Come o’er the stream,

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Char-lie, dear Char-lie, brave Char-lie, Come o’er the stream, Char-lie, and

IJ ^[1 ntr^ I r ^ dine wi’ Mac-lean; And though you be wea-ry, we’ll mak* your heart

FLOWERS OF SCOTTISH MELODY. 5

loy - al train.

And ye shall drink freely the dews o’ Glen Sheerly, That stream in the starlight when kings do not ken :

And deep be your meed of the wine that is red, To drink to your sire and his friend the Maclean.

Come o’er, &c.

If aught will invite you, or more will delight you, ’Tis ready—a troop of our bold Highlandmen

Shall range on the heather, with bonnet and feather, Strong arms and broad claymores, three hundred and ten.

Come o’er, &c.

HE’S OWRE THE HILLS. Slowly,

-* *- tj7*— He’s owre the hills that I lo’e weel, He’s owre the hills we

WHS.

dar - - - na name, He’s owre the hills, a yont Dun - Wane, Wha

soon will get his wel - come hame. My fai - ther’s gane

6 FLOWERS OF SCOTTISH MELODY,

fight for him, My brith - era win - - na

ife#- - -

bide at hame, My

m mitber greets and prays for them, And ’deed she thinks they’re no to blame.

The Whigs may scoff, and the Whigs may jeer, But ah ! that love maun be sincere, Which still keeps true whate’er betide, An’ for his sake leaves a’ beside.

He’s owre the hills, &c.

His right these hills, his right these plains; O’er Highland hearts secure he reigns ; What lads e’re did, our laddies will do, Were I a laddie I’d follow him too.


Sae noble a look, sae princely an air, Sae gallant and bold, sae young and sae fair; Oh! did ye but see him, ye’d do as we’ve done, Hear him but ance, to his standard you’ll run.


Then draw the claymore for Charlie, then fight For your country, religion, and a’ that is right; Were ten thousand lives now given to me, I’d die as aft for ane o’ the three!



LEEZY LINDSAY.

$ High-lands, Lee - zy Lind-say, My pride and my dar - ling to be ?

O ye are the bonniest maiden, The flower o’ the west countrie;

Will ye gang to the Highlands, Leezy Lindsay, My pride and my darling to be ?

I’ve goud an’ I’ve gear, Leezy Lindsay, And a heart that lo es only but thee;

They a’ shall be thine, Leezy Lindsay, Gin ye my lov’d darling will be.

She has gotten a gown o’ green satin. And a bonny blythe bride is she ;

And she’s aff wi’ Lord Ronald MacDonald, His pride and his darling to be.

Tenderly. MARY MORRISON.

3CiI O! Ma-ry at thy window be, It is the wished, the tryst-ed hour,V'rhy


¥ BmUes and gian-ces let me see, Wad mak’the mi - cer’s trea-sure poor.

• 9 /

How glad - ly wad I bide_the stoure, A wea - ry slave from sun to sun, Could if-*

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I the blest re-ward se - cure, My charm-lug Ma - ry Mor-ri-son.

Yestreen, when to the trembling string The dance gaed through the lighted ha’.

To thee my fancy took its wing, I sat, but neither heard nor saw.

Though this was fair, and that was braw. And yon the toast of a’ the town,

I sigh’d, and said, amang them a’, Ye are na Mary Morrison.

O, Mary, canst thou wreck his peace, Wha for thy sake wad gladly die ?

Or canst thou break that heart of his Whose only fault is loving thee ?

If love for love thou wiltna gie, At least be pity to me shown :

A thought ungentle canna be The thought o’ Mary Morrison.

MY AIN FIRESIDE. Sprightly.

1*~TTF

I hae seen great anes and sat in great ha’s, 'Mang lords and’mang


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la-dies a' co--ver’d wi’ braws; But a sight sae de-light-fa’, I

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trow, I ne’er spied, As the bon-ny blythe blink o* my ain fire-side. My

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ain fire-side, my ain fire-side, O, sweet is the blink o' my ain fire-s de!

Ance mair, Gude be praised, round my ain heartsome ingle, Wi’ the friends o’ my youth I cordially mingle ; Nae forms to compel me to seem wae or glad, I may laugh when I’m merry, and sigh when I’m sad. Nae falsehood to dread, nae malice to fear, But truth to delight me, and friendship to cheer; Of a’ roads to happinesss ever was tried, There’s nane half so sure as ane’s ain fireside.

My ain fireside, my ain fireside, O, there’s nought to compare wi’ ane’s ain fireside.

When I draw in my stool on my cosy hearthstane. My heart loups sae light, I scarce ken’t for my ain; Care’s down on the wind, it is clean out o’ sight, Past troubles they seem but as dreams of the night. I hear but tend voices, kcnd faces I see, And mark kend affection glint soft frae ilk e’e ; Nae pluckings o’ flattery, nae boastings o’ pride, ’Tis heart speaks to heart at ane’s ain fireside.

My ain fireside, my ain fireside, 0, there’s nought to compare wi’ ane’s ain fireside.


Tenderly. MY BOY TAMMY.

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Whar hae ye been day, my boy Tam-my ? Whar hae

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Court - in' o’ this young thing, Just come frae her mam - my

And whar gat ye that young thing, My boy Tammy ?

I got her down in yonder howe, Smiling on a sunny knowe, Herding ae wee lamb and ewe, • For her poor mammy.

What said ye to the bonny bairn, My boy Tammy ?

I praised her een, sae lovely blue. Her dimpled cheek and cherry mou ; I pree’d it aft, as ye may trow—

She said she’d tell her mammy.

I held her to my beating heart, My young, my smiling lammie !

I hae a house, it cost me dear, I’ve wealth o’ plenishen and gear ; Ye’se get it a’, were’t ten times mair.

Gin ye will leave your mammy.

FLOWERS OF SCOTTISH MELODY 11

The smile gaed aff her bonnie face— I maunna leave my mammy.

She’s gien me meat, she’s gien me claes, She’s been my comfort a’ my days:— My father’s death brought mony waes—

I canna leave my mammy.

We’ll tak her hame and mak her fain, My ain kind-hearted lammie.

We’ll gie her meat, we’ll gie her elaise, We’ll be her comfort a’ her days. The wee thing gies her hand, and says,

There! gang and ask my mammy.

Has she been to the kirk wi’ thee, My boy Tammy ?

She has been to the kirk wi’ me, And the tear was in her e’e: For O! she’s but a young thing,

Just came frae her mammy.

SAW YE MY WEE THING ? Slow and with expression.

Saw ye my wee thing ? Saw ye my ain thing ? Saw ye my true love

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down by yon lea ? Cross’d she the mea-dow yes-treen at the gloaming ?

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Sought she the bur-nie whar flow'rs the haw-tree ? Her hair it is lint-white, hsr


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skin it is milk-white ; Dark is the blue o’ her saft roll-ing e’e 1 Red, red

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her ripe lips, and sweeter than roses; Whar could my wee thing wander frae me ?

I saw na your wee thing, I saw na your ain thing, Nor saw I your true love down by yon lea;

But I met a bonny thing, late in the gloaming, Down by the burnie where flowers the haw-tree.

Her hair it was lint white, her skin it was milk-white, Dark was the blue of her saft rolling e’e;

Red were her ripe lips, and sweeter than roses. Sweet were the kisses that she gave to me.

It was na my wee thing, it was na my ain thing. It was na my true love ye met by the tree:

Proud is her leal heart, modest her nature. She never lo’ed ony till ance she lo’ed me.

Her name it is Mary, she’s frae Castle Cary, Aft has she sat, when a bairn, on my knee;

Fair as your face is, wer’t fifty times fairer, Young bragger, she ne’er wad gi’en kisses to thee.

It was then your Mary, she’s frae Castle Cary, It was then your true love I met by the tree;

Proud as her heart is, and modest her nature. Sweet were the kisses that she gave to me.

Sair gloom’d his dark brow, blood-red his cheek grew. Wild flashed the fire frae his red rolling e’e;

Ye’se rue sair this morning your boasts and your scorning: Defend, ye fause traitor, fu’ loudly ye lie !

Away wi’ beguiling, cried the youth, smiling, Aff went the bonnet, the lint-white locks flee ;

The belted plaid fa’ing, her white bosom shawing, Fair stood the loved maid wi’ the dark-rolling e’e.


Is it my wee thing, is it my ain thing, Is it my true love here that I see ?

O, Jamie, forgie me, your heart’s constant to me. I’ll never mair wander, dear laddie, frae thee.

SCOTS, WHA HAE WT WALLACE BLED. With energy.

m £3 Scots, wha hae wi’ Wal-lace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has af - ten led,

£

Wel-come to your go - ry bed, Or to glo-rious vie - to - ry 1

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:^=^zk Now’s the day, and now’s the hour; See the front o’ bat - tie low’r;

i *—* V V V V See approach proud Edward's pow’r, Edward ! chains and sla - ve - rie !

Wha will be a traitor knave ? Wha can fill a coward’s grave ? Wha sae base as be a slave ?

Traitor ! coward ! turn and flee !

Wha for Scotland’s king and law Freedom’s sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or freeman fa’,

Caledonia! on wi’ me !

By oppression’s woes and pains ! By your sons in servile chains ! We will drain our dearest veins,

But they shall be, shall be free !

Lay the proud usurpers low ! Tyrants fall in every foe ! Liberty’s in every blow!

Forward 1 let us do or die!


TAK’ YOUR AULD CLOAK ABOUT YE. Exprestion suited to each verse.

My Cromie is a usefu’ cow, And she is come of a good kin’;

Aft has she wet the bairn’s mou’, And I am laith that she should tyne:

Get up, gudeman, it is fu’ time, The sun shines frae the lift sae hie ;

Sloth never made a gracious end ; Gae, tak’ your auld cloak about ye.

My cloak was ance a gude grey cloak, When it was fitting for my wear ;

But now it’s scantly worth a groat, For I have worn’t this thretty year :

Let’s spend the gear that we hae won, We little ken the day we’ll die;

Then I’ll be proud, since I hae sworn To hae a new cloak about me.


In days when our King Robert rang, His trews they cost but half a croun ;

He said they were a groat owre dear, And ca’d the tailor thief and loon :

He was the king that wore a croun, And thou’rt a man o’ laigh degree;

It’s pride put’s a’ the country doun ; Sae tak’ thy auld cloak about ye.

Ilka land has its ain lauch, Ilk kind o’ corn has its ain hool;

I think the world is a’ gaue wrang, When ilka wife her man wad rule.

Do ye no see Rab, Jock, and Hab, As they are girded gallantlie,

While I sit hurklin i’ the asse ?— I’ll hae a new cloak about me.

Gudeman, I wat it’s thretty year Sin we did ane anither ken ;

And we hae had atween us twa Of lads and bonnie lasses ten :

Now they are women grown and men, I wish and pray weel may they be;

If you would prove a good husband, E’en tak’ your auld cloak about ye.

Bell, my wife, she lo’es nae strife, But she would guide me, if she can ;

And, to maintain an easy life, I aft maun yield, though I’m gudeman

Nocht’s to be gain’d at woman’s hand. Unless ye gie her a’ the plea;

Then I’ll leave aff where I began. And tak’ my auld cloak about me.

$

THERE’S NAE LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE. Moderately.

i And are ye sure the news is true ? And are ye sure he’s weel ? Is


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this a time to talk o* wark ? Ye jades, fling by your wheel! Is this a time to

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think o’ wark, When Col-lin’s at the door? Gie me my cloak. I’ll to the quay, And

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see him come a-shore. For there’s nae-luck a-bout the house, There’s nae luck a- /TS

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va’, There’s lit-tie plea-sure in the house, Whan our gude-man's a - wa'.

Rise up and mak* a clean fire-side. Put on the muckle pot;

Gie little Kate her cotton gown, And Jock his Sunday coat;

And mak’ their shoon as black as slaes. Their hose as white as snaw;

It’s a’ to please my ain gudeman, He likes to see them braw.

There are twa hens upon the bauk Been fed this month and mair,

Mak’ haste and thraw their necks about, That Collin weel may fare ;

And spread the table neat and clean, Gar ilka thing look braw:

It’s a to pleasure our gudeman, For he’s been long awa\

Come, gie me down my bigonets, My bishop-satin gown;

And rin and tell the Bailie’s wife That Collin’s come to town:

FLOWERS OF SCOTTISH MELODY. IT

My Sunday sheen they maun go on, My hose o’ pearl blue;

It’s a’ to please my ain gudeman, For he’s baith leal and true.

Sae true his words, sae smooth his speech, His breath like caller air!

His very foot has music in’t When he comes up the stair:

And will I see his face again? And will I hear him speak?

I’m downright dizzie wi’ the thought, In troth I’m like to greet.

The cauld blasts o’ the winter wind, That thrilled through my heart.

They’re a’ blawn by ; I hae him safe, ’Till death we’ll never part:

But what puts parting in my mind, It may be far awa’;

The present moment is our ain. The neist we never saw!

Since Colin’s weel I’m weel content, I hae nae mair to crave;

Could I but live to make him blest, I’m blest aboon the lave.

And will I see his face again ? And will I hear him speak ?

I’m downright dizzie wi’ the thought, In troth I’m like to greet.

WAE’S ME FOR PRINCE CHARLIE.


Quoth I, “ My bird, my bonnie bird, Is that a tale ye borrow ?

Or is’t some words ye’ve learnt by rote, Or a lilt o’ dool and sorrow ?”

“ Ob! no, no, no!” the wee bird sang, “ I’ve flown sin’ morning early;

But sic a day o’ wind and rain!— Oh! wae’s me for Prince Charlie!

On hills, that are by right his ain, He roams a lonely stranger;

On ilka hand he’s press’d by want, On ilka side by danger.

Yestreen I met him in the glen, My heart near bursted fairly;

For sadly chang’d indeed was he— Oh! wae’s me for Prince Charlie!

Hark night came on, the tempest howl’d Out owre the hills and valleys;

And whare was’t that your Prince lay down, Whase hame should be a palace ?

He row’d him in a Highland plaid, AVhich covered him but sparely,

And slept beneath a bush o’ broom— Oh! wae’s me for Prince Charlie!”

But now the bird saw some red coats. And he shook his wings wi’ anger;

“ O, this is no a land for me, I’ll tarry here nae langer.”

A while he hover’d on the wing, Ere he departed fairly;

But weel I mind the farewell strain, ’Twas “Wae’s me for Prince Charlie!”

FLOWERS OF SCOTTISH MELODY. 1.9

THE LAIRD O COCKPEN. Sprightly.

±1

—r~4—#— The Laird o’ Cock-pen he's proud an' he’s great. His mind is ta'en

up wi’ the thing, o' the state; He want - ed a wife his

•—•—m—

braw house to keep, But fa - your wi’ woo - in’ was fash-ous to seek. Down by the dyke-side a lady did dwell, At his table-head he thought she’d look well, MacClish’s ae daughter o’ Claverse-ha Lea, A pennyless lass wi’ a long pedigree. His wig was weel pouthered, and as guid as new; His waistcoat was white, his coat it was blue ; He put on a ring, a sword, and cock’d hat: And wha could refuse the Laird wi’ a’ that ? He took the gray mare, and rade cannily. An’ rapt at the yett o’ Claverse-ha Lea ; “ Gae, tell Mistress Jean to come speedily hen, She’s wanted to speak to the Laird o’ Cockpen.” Mistress Jean was makin’ the elder-flower wine. “ An what brings the Laird at sic a like time ?” She pat aff her apron, and on her silk gown, Her mutch wi’ red ribbons, and gaed awa’ doon. And when she came ben, he bowed fu’ low. An’ what was his errand he soon let her know ; Amazed was the Laird, when the lady said “na,” An’ wi’ a laigh curtsey she turned awa’. Dumfounder’d was he, nae sigh did he gie, He mounted his mare, he rade cannily; And aften he thought, as he rade through the glen, She’s daft to refuse the Laird o’ Cockpen.


WHA’LL BE KING BUT CHARLIE? With animation.

-*—• The news frae Moi-dart came yestreen, Will soon gar mo-ny fer-lie, For

It-- _ P ■ P

£ ships o* war hae just came in, And land-ed Roy - al Char-lie. Come

right - fu’ Jaw - fu' King; For wha'll be King but Char - lie ?

The Highland clans wi’ sword in hand, Erae John o’ Groat’s to Airly,

Hae to a man declared to stand, Or fa’ wi’ Royal Charlie.

Come through, &c.


The Lowlands a’, baith great and sma’, Wi’ mony a lord and laird, hae

Declared for Scotland’s king and law. And speir ye wha but Charlie ?

Come through, &c.

There’s ne’er a lass in a’ the land But vows, baith late and early,

To man she’ll ne’er gie heart or hand Wha wadna fight for Charlie.

Come through, &c.

Then here’s a health to Charlie’s cause, And be’t complete and early;

His very name my heart’s blood warms— To arms ! for Royal Charlie !

Come through, &c.

Briskly. THE BRISK YOUNG LAD.

1 & There cam’ a young man to my dad-dy’s door, my dad - dy*s door, my

b . ^

dad - dy*s door, There cam’ a young man to my dad - dy’s door, A

seek-ing me to woo. And wow! he was a brisk young lad, A

-•—•-

blythe lad, and a braw young lad; And Ol he was B


But I was baking when he came, When he came, when he came, I took him in and gied him a scone,

To thowe his frozen mou’. And, wow! he was, &c.

I set him in aside the bink, I gae him bread, and ale to drink ; But ne’er a blythe styme wad he blink.

Until his wame was fu’. But, oh! he was, &c.

Gae, get you gone, ye cauldrife wooer, Ye sour-looking, cauldrife wooer ; I straightway showed him to the door,

Saying, “ come nae mair to woo.” But, oh ! he was, &c.

There lay a deuk-dub before the door. Before the door, before the door, There lay a deuk-dub before the door.

And there fell he, I trow. And, oh ! he was, &c.

Out came the goodman, and high he shouted; Out came the goodwife, and laigh she looted; And a’ the toun-neebors were gathered about it:

And there he lay, I trow. And, wow ! he was, &c.

Then out came I, and sneer’d and smil’d, Ye came to woo, but ye’re a’ begul’d; Ye’ve faun in the dirt, and ye’re a’ befyl’d:

We’ll hae nae mair o’ you. But, wow! he was, &c.


DONALD O’ DUNDEE. Sprightly.

r - $ 3E

Young Do-nald is the blyth-est lad That e'er made love to me; When

*3*

3s /—r- e’er he’s by, my heart is glad, He seems so gay and free. Then

-¥—r-

on his pipe he plays so sweet, And in his plaid he looks so neat, It /T\ ' • ' A

-■xS-

cheers my heart at ere to meet Young Do - nald o’ Dun - dee.

Whene’er I gang to yonder grove, Young Sandy follows me.

And fain he wants to he my love, But, ah ! it canna be.

Though mither frets both air and late For me to wed this youth I hate. There’s none need hope to gain young Kate

But Donald o’ Dundee.

When last we ranged the hanks of Tay, The ring he showed to me,

And bade me name the bridal day. Then happy would he be.

I ken the youth will aye prove kind ; Nae mair my mither will I mind ; Mess John to me shall quickly bind

Young Donald o’ Dundee.

*24 FLOWERS OF SCOTTISH MELODY.

Lively. DUNCAN GRAY'.

£ ■±1 •* <> * Zj*

ifr-

Dun-can Gray cam’ here to woo, Ha, ha, the woo-ing o’t; On

r> aHM T

New-year’s night, when we were fu\ Ha, ha, the woo - ing o't.

• •

Mag-gie coost her head fu’ heigh, Look’d a-sklent and un-co skeigh,

§

Gart poor Dun-can stand a - - - heigh, Ha, ha, the woo-ing o’t.

Duncan fleech’d and Duncan pray’d, Ha, ha, the wooing o’t;

Meg was deaf as Ailsa craig, Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.

Duncan sigh’d baith out an’ in, Grat his e’en haith blear’d an’ blin’ Spake o’ louping o’er the linn,

Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.

Time and chance are but a tide, Ha, ha, the wooing o’t;

Slighted love is sair to bide, Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.

Shall I, like a fool, quoth he, For a haughty hizzie die ? She may gae to—France—for me I


FLOWERS OF SCOTTISH MELQDY. 25

How it comes let doctors tell, Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,

Meg grew sick as he grew hale, Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.

Something in her bosom wrings, For relief a sigh she brings; And, O ! her e’en, they spake sic things!

Ha, ha, the wooing o't.

Duncan was a lad o’ grace, Ha, ha, the wooing o’t;

Maggie’s was a piteous case, Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.

Duncan couldna be her death, Swelling pity smoor’d his wrath ; Now they’re crouse and canty baith •


JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO. With expression.

T3L

John An-der-son, my jo, John, When we were first ac-quaint. Your

£ 3—*

locks were like the ra - - ven, Your bon - ny brow was brent: But

-Or

now your brow is bald, John, Your locks are like the snow, Yet /Tn

• ■ 1

bles-sings on your fros - - ty pow, John An - der - son, my jo.


John Anderson, my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither;

And mony a canty day, John, We’ve had wi’ ane anither;

Now, we maun totter down, John, But hand and hand we’ll go,

And we’ll sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson, my jo.

WHISTLE, AND I’LL COME TO YOU, MY LAD. Briskly.

H?-

O, whis-tle, and I’ll come to you, my lad, O, whis-tle, and I’ll come

ti‘|

m to you, my lad ; Tho* fa-ther and mi-ther, and a’ shou’d gae mad, O,

whis-tle, and I’ll come to you, my lad. But wa - ri - ly tent, whan ye

*

P

come to court me, And come na un - less the back-yett be a - jee ; Syne /Tn ^

£ is:'

up the back stile and let nae-bo—dy see, And come as ye war - na


‘ "N

And come as ye com - ing to me.

O, whistle, and I’ll come to you, my lad, O, whistle, and I’ll come to you, my lad; Tho’ father and mither, and a’ shou’d gae mad O, whistle, and I’ll come to you, my lad. At kirk, or at market, whene’er ye meet me, Gang by me as though that ye car’d na a flee ; But steal me a blink o’ your bonny blythe e’e. Yet look as ye warna lookin’ at me.

O, whistle, and I’ll come to you, my lad, O, whistle, and I’ll come to you, my lad ; Tho’ father and mither and a’ should gae mad, O, whistle, and I’ll come to you, my lad. Ay, vow and protest that ye care na for me, And whiles ye may lightly my beauty a wee ; But court na anither, tho’ joking ye be, Bor fear that she wyle your fancy frae me.

O! DINNA ASfc ME GIN I LO’E YE.

With feeling.

O! din - na ask me gin I lo'e you; Troth I daur - na tell:

E3E3e£

Din - na ask me gin I lo*e ye; Ask it o’ your - sel*. OI


An’ when ye’re gane to yon big town, An’ mony a braw lass see,

O, Jamie, dinna look at them, For fear ye mind na me ;

For weel I ken there’s mony a ane That weel might fancy thee ;

Then, Jamie, keep me in your mind, Wha lo’es hut only thee.

I LO’E NA A LADDIE BUT ANE.

a yt-dr I lo’e na lad-die but aue, He loe’s na a las-sie but


Let others brag well o’ their gear, Their land, and their lordlie degree,

I earena for aught but my dear, For he’s ilka thing lordlie to me.

His words mair than sugar are sweet, His sense drives ilka fear far awa :

I listen, poor fool, and I greet, Yet how sweet are the tears as they fa !

“ Dear lassie,” he cries, wi’ a jeer, “ Ne’er heed what the auld anes will say ;

Though we’ve little to brag o’, ne’er fear : What’s gowd to the heart that is wae ?

Our laird has baith honours and wealth, Yet see how he’s dwining wi’ care ;

Now we, though we’ve naething but health, Are cantie and leal evermair.

O, Marie ! the heart that is true Has something mair costly than gear :

Ilk e’en it has naething to rue, Ilk morn it has naething to fear.

Ye wardlings, gae hoard up your store, And tremble for fear aught ye tyne ;

Guard your treasures wi’ lock, bar, and doo.-, True love is the guardian of mine.”


Lively.

3#

I’M O’ER YOUNG TO MARRY YET,

> n i -N

i it zfckB: I'm o'er young. I'm o’er young, I’m o’er young to mar - ry yet; I’m

£ /T\

i

sae young, 'twad be a sin, To tak’ me frae my mam - my yet.

ns fY-fy

I am my mam-my’s ae bairn, Nor of my hame am wea - ry yet; And Da capo.

$ K3k ffi

I wad have ye learn, lads, That ye for me maun tar - ry yet. For I’m, &c.

For I hare had my ain way, Nane daur’d to contradict me yet;

So soon to say I wad obey, In truth, I daurna venture yet.

For I’m, &c. Fu’ loud and shrill the frosty wind

Blaws thro’ the leafless timmer, Sir ; But if ye come this gate again,

I’ll aulder be gin simmer, Sir. For I’m, &c.

Lively. MY LOVE SHE’S BUT A LASSIE YET.

a

-sie yet, My love she’s

IS HS

y love she’s but a las-sie yet, My love she’s but a las - sie yet; I’ll


w EdE

=3^5

let her stand a year or twa, She’ll no be half sae sau - cy yet

I rue the day I sought her, O, I rue the day I sought her, O; Wha

gets her need-na say he's woo'd. But he may say he’s bought her, O.

Come, draw a drap o’ the best o’t yet, Come, draw a drap o’ the best o’t yet; Gae, seek for pleasure where ye will, But here I never miss’d it yet.

We’re a’ dry with the drinking o’t. We’re a’ dry with the drinking o’t. The minister kiss’d the fiddler’s wife, And cou’dna preach for thinking o’t.

Lively. COME UNDER MY PLAIDY.

a ». , * * *—H-iy-

Come un - der my plai - dy, the night’s gaun to fa’; Come in frae the

s=f>; •—a

cauld blast, the drift and the snaw ; Come un - der my plai - dy, and


5

sit down be - side me, There’s room in’t, dear las - sie, be-lieve me, for twa. -w

Come un - der my plai - dy, and sit down be - side me, I’ll hap ye

frae ev’- ry cauid blast that can blaw; Come un-der my plai-dy, and lN fs-

sit down be - side me, There’s room in’t, dear las-sie, be - lieve me, for twa.

“ Gae \va wi’ your plaidy! auld Donald, gae Va, I fear na the eauld blast, the drift, nor the snaw ;

Gae ’wa wi’ your plaidy I I’ll not sit beside ye, Ye might be my gutcher—auld Donald, gae wa.

I’m gaun to meet Johnny, he’s young and he’s bonny. He’s been at Meg’s bridal, fu’ trig and fu’ braw ;

Nane dances sae lightly, sae gracefu’, sae tightly, His cheek’s are like roses, his brow’s like the snaw.”

“ Dear Marion, let that flee stick fast to the wa’, Your Jock’s but a gowk, and has naething ava ;

The hale o’ his pack he has now on his back; He’s tliretty, and I am but threescore and twa.

Be frank now and kindly, I’ll busk ye aye finely, To kirk or to market they’ll nane gang sae braw ;

A bien house to bide in, a chaise for to ride in, And flunkies to ’tend ye as fast as ye ca’.”

“ My faither ay tauld me, my mither an’ a’. Ye’d make a gude husband, and keep me ay braw;

It’s true I lo’e J ohnny, he’s young and he’s bonny, But waes me, I ken he has naething aya !


I hae little tocher, ye’ve made a gude offer, I’m now mair than twenty, my time is but sma’;

Sae gie me your plaidy, I’ll creep in beside ye: I thought ye’d been aulder than threescore and twa.”

She crept in ayont him, beside the stane wa’, Whare Johnny was list’ning, and heard her tell a’ ;

The day was appointed l—his proud heart it dunted. And strack ’gainst his side as if bursting in twa.

He wander’d hame weary, the night it was dreary, And thowless he tint his gate ’mang the deep snaw;

The howlet was screamin’, while Johnny cried, “ Women Wad marry auld Nick, if he’d keep them aye braw.”

O, the deil’s in the lasses, they gang now sae braw, They’ll lie down wi’ auld men o’ fourscore and twa;

The hale o’ their marriage is gowd and a carriage, Plain love is the cauldest blast how that can blaw.

Auld, dotards, be wary ! take tent wha ye marry : Young wives wi’ their coaches they’ll whip and they’ll ca\

Till they meet wi’ some Johnny, that’s youthfu’ and bonny, And they’ll gie ye a horn on ilk haffet to claw.

WHAT CAN A YOUNG LASSIE.

las - sle do wi* an auld man? Bad luck on the pen - ny That

tempt-ed my Min - ny to sell her poor Jen - ny for sil - ler and Ian’!

34 FLOWEES OF SCOTTISH MELODY.

V—*— « He’s al-ways cora-pleen-iu*, Frae morn-in* to e*en-in’, He boasts an’ he

He hums and he hankers, He frets and he cankers ; I never can please him.

Do a’ that I can. He’s peevish, and jealous Of a’ the young fellows: O, dool on the day

I met wi’ an auld man.

My auld auntie Katie Upon me takes pity; I’ll do my endeavour

To follow her plan : I’ll cross him, and wreck him. Until I heart-break him, And then his auld brass

Will buy me a new pan.

Moderately. BRAW, BRAW LADS.

m Braw, braw lads on Yar-row braes, Ye wan - der thro' the

FLOWERS OF SCOTTISH MELODY, 35

But there is ane, a secret ane, Aboon them a’ I lo’e him better ;

And I’ll be his, and he’ll be mine, The bonny lad o’ Gallawater.

Although his daddie was nae laird, And though I heana meikle tocher,

Yet rich in kindest, truest love, We’ll tent our flocks by Gallawater.

It ne’er was wealth, it ne’er was wealth, That coft contentment, peace, or pleasure ;

The hands and bliss o’ mutual love, 0, that’s the chiefest warld’s treasure !

Moderately. THE EWE-BUGHTS.

36 FLOWERS OF SCOTTISH MELODY

There’s gowd in your garters, Marion, And silk on your white hause-bane;

Fu’ fain wad I kiss my Marion, At e’en when I come hame.

There’s braw lads in Earnslaw, Marion, Wha gape, and glow’r with their e’e,

At kirk, when they see my Marion; But nane of them lo’es like me.

I’ve nine milk ewes, my Marion, A cow and a brawney quey;

I’ll gie them a’ to my Marion, Just on her bridal-day.

And ye’s get a green sey apron, And waistcoat of the London brown,

And wow but ye will be vap’ring, Whene’er ye gang to the town.

I’m young and stout, my Marion, Nane dances like me on the green ;

And gin ye forsake me, Marion, I’ll e’en gae draw up wi’ Jean.

Sae put on your parlins, Marion, And kyrtle o’ the cramasie;

And soon as my chin has nae hair on, I shall come west and see ye.


JESSIE, THE FLOWER O’ DUMBLANE.

Tenderly.

s The sun has gane down o’er the lof - ty Ben - Lo - mond, And

calm simmer gloam-in’, To muse on sweet Jes-sie, the flower o’ Dumblane. How

sweet is the brier wi* its saft faulding blos-som, And sweet is the birk wi’ its

« «

man-tie o’green; But sweet-er and fair-er, and dear to this bo-som, Is

i

charming young Jes-sie, the flower o’ Dumblane, Is charming young Jes-sie, Is

#

charming young Jes-sie, Is charm-ing young Jes-sie, the flower o’ Dumblane. C


(She’s modest as ony, and blythe as she’s bonny, For guileless simplicity marks her its ain;

And far be the villain, divested of feeling, Wha’d blight in its blossom the flower o’ Dumblane.

Sing on, thou sweet mavis, thy hymn to the e’ening, Thou’rt dear to the echoes of Calderwood glen ;

Sae dear to this bosom, sae artless and winning, Is charming young Jessie, the flower o’ Dumblane.

How lost were my days ’till I met with my Jessie, The sports o’ the city seem’d foolish and vain ;

I ne’er saw a nymph I would ca’ my dear lassie, ’Till charm’d wi’ sweet Jessie, the flower o’ Dumblane.

Tho’ mine were the station of loftiest grandeur, Amidst its profusion I’d languish in pain,

And reckon as naething the height o’ its splendour, If wanting sweet Jessie, the flower o’ Dumblane.

HIGHLAND MARY. With feeling.

b BE ajij

Ye banks and braes, and streams a-round The cas-tle o’ Mont-

-A —1 P

§

£

go - me - rie, Green be your woods, and fair your flow’rs, Your

b~——-—HH-n-—n-r=-. - »-*-

m

$

wa - - ters ne - - ver drum-lie. There sim - - mer first un-


-tn»

1 falds her robes, And there they lang - - est tar - - ry ; For

there I took the last fare - well O’ my sweet High - land Ma-ry.

How sweetly bloom’d the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn’s blossom,

As underneath their fragrant shade, I clasped her to my bosom 1

The golden hours, on angel wings, Flew o’er me and my dearie ;

For dear to me as light and life Was my sweet Highland Mary.

Wi’ mony a vow, and lock’d embrace, Our parting was fu’ tender;

And pledging aft to meet again. We tore oursel’s asunder.

But, oh! fell death’s untimely frost, That nipt my flower sae early !

Now green’s the sod, and cauld’s the clay. That wraps my Highland Mary.

O, pale, pale now, those rosy lips I aft hae kiss’d sae fondly !

And closed for aye the sparkling glance, That dwelt on me sae kindly!

And mould’ring now in silent dust, That heart that loe’d me dearly !

But still within my bosom’s core Shall live my Highland Mary.


THE LASS OF ARRANTEENIE. Moderate.

Far lone a - mang the High-land hills, ’Midst na - ture’s wild - est

moun-tain mist sae rain - y, Are nought to me, when

^3 i

c* Ar - - - ran - - tee - - nie. gaun to thee. Sweet lass of

Yon mossy rose-bud down the howe, Just op’ning fresh and bonnie,

Blinks sweetly ’neath the hazel bough, And’s scarcely seen by ony.

Sae sweet amidst her native hills Obscurely blooms my Jeanie :

Mair fair and gay than rosy May, The flower of Arranteenie.


Now from the mountain’s lofty brow I view the distant ocean.

There avarice guides the bounding prow, Ambition courts promotion.

Det fortune pour her golden store, Her laurell’d favours many;

Give me but this, my soul’s first wish. The lass of Arranteenie.

0, ARE YE SLEEPING, MAGGY? Moderately.

Fearfu’ soughs the boortree bank, The rifted wood roars wild and drearie;

Loud the iron yett does clank, And cry o’ howlets makes me eerie.

O, are ye sleeping, Maggy ? &c.


Aboon my breath I daurna speak, For fear I rise your wakrife daddie ;

Cauld’s the blast upon my cheek, O, rise, rise, my bonnie lady 1

O, are ye sleeping, Maggy ? &c.

She opt the door, she let him in ; He coost aside his drooping plaidie ;

Blaw your warst, ye rain and win’, Since, Maggy, now I’m in aside ye.

Now, since ye’re waking, Maggy, Now, since ye’re waking, Maggy, What care I for howlet’s cry, For boortree bank, or warlock craigie!

MAGGY LAUDER.

scorn-ful-ly she an-swer’d him, Be-gone ye hal - -lan - - sha- ker, Jog

on your gate, ye ble - ther - in-skate, My name is Mag-gy Lau-der.


Maggy, quoth he, now by my bags, I’m fidgin’ fain to see thee ;

Sit down by me, my bonny bird, Indeed I winna steer thee :

For I’m a piper to my trade. My name is Rob the Ranter;

The lasses loup as they were daft, When I blaw up my chanter.

Piper, quo’ Meg, hae ye your bags, Or is your drone in order ?

If ye be Rob, I’ve heard o’ you— live ye upon the border ?

The lasses a’, baith far an’ near, Hae heard o’ Rob the Ranter ;

I’ll shake my foot wi’ right good will, If ye’ll blaw up your chanter.

Then to his bags he flew wi’ speed. About the drone he twisted ;

Meg up and walloped o’er the green, For brawlie could she frisk it:

Well done, quoth he ; play up, quoth she; Well bobb’d, quoth Rob the Ranter;

’Tis worth my while to play, indeed. When I hae sic a dancer.

Well hae you played your part, quoth Meg, Your cheeks are like the crimson ;

There’s nane in Scotland plays sae well, Since we lost Habbie Simpson.

I’ve lived in Fife, baith maid and wife, These ten years and a quarter;

And gin ye come to Anster Fair, Spier ye for Maggy Lauder.

LOGIE O' BUCHAN. Slowly,

~~g ?=!=

Lo-gie o’ Buch-an, O Lo - gie the laird, They hae ta’en a - wa’


«=>r

q the yard; \Yha Ja - mie that delv'd in the yard; \Yha play’d on the pipe and the

§

vi - ol sae sma,’ They hae ta’en a - wa Ja - mie, the flow’r o* them With animation.

& —|— «—•

a’. He said, “ Think na long, las - sie, though I gang a -

SPSS? _ —r wa, For I’ll come and see ye, in spite o’ them

O, Sandy has owsen, has gear, and has kye, A house and a hadden, an’ siller forbye; But I wad hae Jamie, wi’s staff in his hand. Before I’d hae Sandy, wi’s houses and land.

He said, &c.

My daddy looks sulky, my minnie looks sour, They frown upon Jamie because he is poor; But daddy and minnie although that they be, There’s nane o’ them a’ like my Jamie to me.

He said, &c.

I sit on my crecpie, and spin at my wheel, And think on the laddie that lo’ed me sae weel; He had but ae sixpence, he brake it in twa, And gied me the hauf o’t when he gaed awa’.

Then haste ye back, Jamie, and bide na awa’. Then haste ye back, Jamie, and bide na awa’, i’or simmer is coming, cauld winter’s awa’, And ye’ll come and see me, in spite o’ them a.


THEIR GROVES O’ SWEET MYRTLE.

With expression.

±

j_J I r Their groves o’ sweet myr - tie let fo - reign lands reck-on, Where

m sum-mers tx-hale the per-fume, Far dear-er to

• •

bright beam - ing

$

±r

me yon lone glen o’ green breck-an, Wi’ the burn steal-ing

f>

un-der the lang yel - low broom. Far dear-er to me are yon

P-T-P-

hum - ble broom bowers, Where the blue-bell and gow - an lurk low - ly un-

« •

seen; For there, light - ly trip-ping a - - mong the wild

ir

■&

flow-ers, A - listen-ing the lin - net, aft wan-ders my Jean.


Tho’ rich is the breeze in the gay sunny valleys, And canid Caledonia’s blast on the wave ;

Their sweet-scented woodlands that skirt the proud palace, What are they ? The haunt of the tyrant and slave!

The slave’s spicy forests, and gold-bubbling fountains, The brave Caledonian views wi’ disdain ;

He wanders as free as the winds on his mountains, Save love’s willing fetters, the chains o’ his Jean.

Slow. BONNIE WEE THING.

Bon - - nie wee thing, can - - ny wee thing, Love - - ly wee thing

•v J wert thou mine, I would wear thee in

pep*

my bo - - som, ——

Ian - guis

~ ■ 9-*-

Lest my wee thing I should tine. Wish-ful-ly I look and Ian - guish,

n-1——-T1 - - — 1—r~i i w M

3 In that bon - - ny face o’ thine; And my heart it

V / . / stounds with an - - guish, Lest my wee thing be na mine.

Wit and grace, and love and beauty, In ae constellation shine;

To adore thee is my duty, Goddess o’ this soul o’ mine.

Bonny wee thing, &c


Slow. LOGAN WATER.

O, Lo - gan, sweet - ly^ didst thou glide, That day I was my

Wil - lie’s bride. And years sin - syne hae o’er us run, Like

Lo - gan to the sum-mer’s sun. But now the flow’ry banks ap-pear, Like

±-g—rs- t E

§ «ESEg -*■

drum - lie win - ter dark and drear, While my dear lad maun

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face his faes, Far, far frae me and Lo - - gan braes.

Again the merry month of May Has made our hills and valleys gay ; The birds rejoice in leafy bowers, The bees hum round the breathing flowers, Blithe morning lifts his rosy eye, And evening’s tears are tears of joy; My soul delightless a’ surveys. While Willie’s far frae Logan braes.

Within yon milk-white hawthorn bush, Amang her nestlings, sits the thrush ,


Her faithful mate will share her toil, Or wi’ his sang her cares beguile ; But I wi’ my sweet nurslings here, Nae mate to help, nae mate to cheer, Pass widow’d nights and joyless days, While Willie’s far frae Logan braes.

O, wae upon you, men o’ state, That brethren rouse to deadly hate ! As ye make mony a fond heart mourn, Sae may it on your heads return ! How can your flinty hearts enjoy The widow’s tears, the orphan’s cry ? But soon may peace bring happy days, And Willie hame to Logan braes 1

LAST MAY A BEAW WOOER.

£ £ -# • •

hat - ed like men. The deuce gae wi* him to be -

1 lieve me, be-lieve me. The deuce gae wi* him to be - - lieve me.


He spake o’ the darts in my bonnie black een, And vow’d for my love he was dying ;

I said, he might die when he liked for Jean : But Gude forgie me for lying, for lying, But Gude forgie me for lying.

A weel-stocked mailen, himsel for the laird, And marriage aff-hand, were his proffers ;

I never loot on that I kenn’d it, or car’d, But thought I might hae waur offers, waur offers, But thought I might hae waur offers.

But what wad ye think ? in a fortnight or less— The deil tak’ his taste to gae near her !

He’s up the Gateslack to my black cousin Bess, Guess ye how, the jaud! I could bear her, could bear her, Guess ye how, the jaud! I could bear her.

But a’ the niest week as I fretted wi’ care, I gaed to the tryste o’ Dalgarnock;

And wha but my fine fickle wooer was there I glowr’d as I’d seen a warlock, a warlock, I glowr’d as I’d seen a warlock.

But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink, Lest neighbors might say I was saucy ;

My wooer he caper’d as he’d been in drink, And vow’d I was his dear lassie, dear lassie, And vow’d I was his dear lassie.

I speer’d for my cousin fu’ couthy and sweet, Gin she had recovered her bearin’;

And how my auld shoon fitted her shauchled feet— Gude save us ! how he fell a swearin, a swearin, Gude save us! how he fell a swearin.

He begged, for Gudesake, I wad be his wife, Or else I would kill him wi’ sorrow;

So, e’n to preserve the poor body in life, I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow, I think I maun wed him to-morrow.


PIBROCH OF DONUIL DHU. With energy.

Pi-broch of Don-uil Dhu, Pi-broch of Don-uil, Wake thy wild voice a-new,

Sum-mon Clan Con - nil. Come a - way, come a - way, Hark to the sum-mons ! /T\

fizz Come in your war ar - ray, Gen-tles and com-mons. Come a-way, come a-way,

/T\ /7\

m Hark to the sum-mons! Come in your war ar-ray, Gen-tles and com-mons.

Come from deep glen, and From mountain so rocky,

The war-pipe and pennon Are at Inverlocky :

Come every hill-plaid, and True heart that wears one.

Come every steel blade, and Strong hand that bears one.

Leave untented the herd, The flock without shelter;

Leave the corpse uninterr’d. The bride at the altar:

Leave the deer, leave the steer, Leave nets and barges ;

Come with your fighting gear. Broad-swords and targes.


Come as the winds come, when Forests are rended;

Come as the waves come, when Navies are stranded:

Faster come, faster come. Faster and faster;

Chief, vassal, page, and groom, Tenant and master.

Fast they come, fast they come, See, how they gather !

Wide waves the eagle plume, Blended with heather.

Cast your plaids, draw your blades, Forward each man set!

Pibroch of Donuil Dhu, Knell for the onset.

LUCY’S FLITTIN’. With feeling.

v —'—•• wound up the year, That Lu-cy row’d up her wee kist, wi’ her a’ in’t. And


=T5=

4 ♦ ♦

boom’d on the pea; An or - phan was she, and they had been guid

f;, ^ \

y fi- lm her: O, that was the thing brought the tear in her e’e.

She gaed by the stable where Jamie was stanin’. Eight sair was his kind heart the flittin’ to see;

Fare ye weel, Lucy, quo’ Jamie, and ran in: The gatherin’ tears trickled fast frae her e’e.

As down the burnside she gaed slow wi’ the flittin’, Fare ye weel, Lucy, was ilka bird’s sang;

She heard the craw sayin’t, high on the tree sittin’, And Eobin was chirpin’t the brown leaves amang.

Wi’ the rest o’ my claes I ha’e row’d up the ribbon, The bonnie blue ribbon that Jamie gae me;

Yestreen when he gae me’t, and saw I was sabbin’, I’ll never forget the wae blink o’ his e’e.

Tho’ now he said naething but fare ye weel, Lucy, It made me I neither could speak, hear, nor see;

He couldna say mair, but just fare ye weel, Lucy, Yet that I will mind to the day that I die.

The lamb likes the gowan wi’ dew when its droukit, The hare likes the brake and the braird on the lea;

But Lucy likes Jamie : she turn’d and she lookit; She thought the dear place she wad never mair see.

Ah 1 weel may young Jamie gang dowie and cheerless I And weel may he greet on the bank o’ the burn 1

His bonnie sweet Lucy, sae gentle and peerless, Lies cauld in her grave, and will never return.


THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST, Slow, and with expression.

O I ^ i •—• 2 I’ve seen the smil - ing of for - - tune be - gull - ing, I’ve

)g-JE -^=————-—rv-^T

tast - - ed her plea - sures, and felt her de - cay.

Sweet was her bless - ing, and kind her ca - ress - ing. But

i MZZW.

#■ now they are fled, they are fled far a - way.

I’ve seen the fo - - rest a - - dorn - ed the fore - most, Wi* 1 VC BCCU bUC AU

?F=S —k-

flowers o’ the fair - - est, baith plea - - - - sant and gay; Sae -• »-

1 r /■ r

m m

bon - nie was their bloom - ing, their scent the air per - fum - ing, But

Iff JE — Nt—^3

^^§ifpl|§llipi=lll ^ nnw ♦ a\7 o mi _ _ fVirtv’rl n* o _ twou 'now they are wi--ther'd, and a’ wede a - way.

D


I’ve seen the morning with gold the hills adorning, And loud tempest roaring before parting day ;

I’ve seen Tweed’s silver streams, glittering in the sunny beams. Grow drumlie and dark as they roll’d on their way.

0, fickle fortune ! why this cruel sporting ? Why thus perplex us, poor sons of a day ?

Thy frown cannot fear me, thy smile cannot cheer me, Since the Flowers of the Forest are a’ wede away.

BOFNIE WOOD OF CRAIGIELEE. Moderate.

_— a——#———a a —

The broom, the brier, the birk - en bush, Bloom bon - nie o’er thy <7\

—it ^

flow* - ry lea; And a’ the sweets that ane can wish, Frae

^^ na - ture’s hand are strewed on thee, Thou bon - nle wood of

m ^=^=^=qsq=^=S=i

Crai - gie - lee, Thou bon - nie wood of Ctal - gie - lee, Near

&=F 18 PE £

thee I've spent life’s ear - ly day, And won my Ma - ry's heart in thee.


Far ben thy dark green plantin’s shade, The cushat croodles am’rously ;

The mavis down thy bughted glade, Gars echo ring frae ev’ry tree,

Thou bonnie wood, &c.

Awa’, ye thoughtless, murd’ring gang, Wha tear the nestlings ere they flee !

They’ll sing you yet a canty sang, Then, 0, in pity, let them be!


When winter blaws in sleety show’rs, Frae aff the norlan’ hills sae hie,

He lightly skiffs thy bonnie bowers, As laith to harm a flow’r in thee,


Though fate should drag me south the line, Or o’er the wide Atlantic sea,

The happy hours I’ll ever min’, That I in youth hae spent in thee,


LOUDON’S BONNIE WOODS AND BRAES.

With expression suited to each verse.

-? .N ^ »• * * '•' Lou-don’s bon - nie woods and braes, I maun lea’ them a', las - sie;

I*—•

Wha can thole when Bri-tain’s faes Would gie Bri - tons law, las • sie ?


✓7\

fR* I e

gen - tie hope shall soothe thy waes, Whan I am far wa\ las - sie.

Hark ! the swelling bugle sings, Yielding joy to thee, laddie ;

But the doleful bugle brings Waefu’ thoughts to me, laddie.

Lanely I maun climb the mountain, Lanely stray beside the fountain, Still the weary moments countin’.

Far frae love and thee, laddie. On the gory field of war.

Where vengeance drives her crimson car, Thou’lt maybe fa’, frae me afar,

And nane to close thy e’e, laddie.

O, resume thy wonted smile, O, 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 die, lassie. ’Midst our bonnie woods and braes. We’ll spend our peaceful, happy days, As blithe’s yon lightsome lamb that plays

On Loudon’s flow’ry lea, lassie.

Lively. THE BRAES OF BALQUITHER.

n'l' N fczts *—9 3EZt

Let us go, las - sie, go, To the braes of Bal - qui-ther, Where the

£ p r .-J*

blae - her - ries grow, ’Mang the bon - nie High - land hea - ther.

4 •-T-

3 Where the deer and the rae, Light-ly bound-ing to - ge - ther, Sport the

Da capo.

lang sim - mer day, On the braes of Bal - qui • ther.

I will twine thee a bow’r. By the clear siller fountain,

And I’ll cover it o’er Wi’ the flow’rs of the mountain;

I will range through the wilds, And the deep glens sae drearie,

And return wi’ the spoils To the bow’r o’ my dearie.


When the rude wintry win’ Idly raves round our dwelling.

And the roar of the linn On the night-breeze is swelling;

So merrily we’ll sing, As the storm rattles o’er us,

Till the dear sheeling ring Wi’ the light lilting chorus.

Now the summer is in prime, Wi’ the llow’rs richly blooming,

And the wild mountain thyme A’ the moorlands perfuming;

To our dear native scenes Let us journey together,

Where glad innocence reigns, ’Mang the braes o’ Balquither.

THE BRAES ABOON BONAW. , Moderate.

Wilt thou go, my bon - nie las-sie, Wilt thou go, my braw las - sie, va < /T\ _ /T\

ii £

Wilt thou go, say aye or no, To the braes a-boon Bo - naw, las-sie?

51 n

Though Donald has na mickle fraise, WTi’lawland speeches fine, las-sie, What ad lib. Da capo.

1 B

he’ll im-part comes frae the heart, Sae let it be frae thine, las - sie.


When simmer days deed a’ the braes Wi’ blossom’d broom sae fine, lassie,

At milking sheel we’ll join the reel: My flocks shall a’ be thine, lassie.

Wilt thou go, &c.

I’ll hunt the roe, the hart, the doe, The ptarmigan sae shy, lassie ;

Tor duck and drake I’ll beat the brake: Nae want shall thee come nigh, lassie.

Wilt thou go, &c.

Tor trout and par wi’ canny care I’ll wiley skim the flie, lassie ;

Wi’ sic-like cheer I’ll please my dear : Then come awa’ wi’ me, lassie.

“ Yes, I’ll go, my bonnie laddie, Yes, I’ll go, my braw laddie,

Ilk joy and care wi’ thee I’ll share, ’Mang the braes aboon Bonaw, laddie.”

Sprightly. THE BIRRS OT ABERTELDY.

mm Bon - nie las - sie, will ye go, Will ye go, will ye go,

/T\ _ /7\

i 1 !E±E±

Bon-nie las - sie, will ye go, To the birks of A - ber-fel-dy? Now

tv*- jy iU rf J *

sim-mer blinks on flow-ry braes, And o’er the crys-tal stream-lets plays : Come


/T\ Da capo.

let us spend the light-some days, In the birks of A - her - fel - dy.

The little birdies blithely sing, While o’er their heads the hazels hing ; Or lightly flit on wanton wing,

In the birks of Aberfeldy.

The braes ascend like lofty wa’s. The foaming stream deep roaring fa’s, O’erhung wi’ fragrant spreading shaws.

The birks of Aberfeldy.

The hoary cliffs are crown’d wi’ flowers, While o’er the linns the burnie pours, And, rising, weets wi’ misty showers

The birks of Aberfeldy.

Let fortune’s gifts at random flee. They ne’er shall draw a wish frae me, Supremely blest wi’ love and thee.

In the birks of Aberfeldy.

GREEN GROW THE RASHES, O. Sprightly.

tmcz lot There’s nought but care on ev'-ry hand, In ev'-ry hour that passes, O ; What

tts • ni - ties the life o’ man, If ’twere na’ for the lass - es, C.


i ZI £ :r •

'/■—'f- Green grow the rash - es, O, Green grow the rash - es, O ; The

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sweet-est hours that e’er I spent, were spent a-mang the lass-es, O.

The warldly race may riches chace, An’ riches still may flee them, O ;

An’ though at last they catch them fast, Their hearts can ne’er enjoy them, O.

Green grow, &c.

Gie me a canny hour at e’en. My arms about my dearie, O;

An’ warldly cares and warldly men May a’ gae tapsalteerie, O.

Green grow, &c.

For you sae douse, ye sneer at this, Ye’re nought but senseless asses, 0 1

The wisest man the warl’ e’er saw He dearly lo’ed the lasses, O.

Green grow, &c.

Auld Nature swears the lovely dears Her noblest work she classes, 0;

Her “ ’prentice han’ ” she tried on man, An’ then she made the lasses, O.

Green grow the rashes, 0 1 Green grow the rashes, 01 The sweetest hours that e’er I spent,

I’ve spent amang the lasses, O 1


O, DINNA THINK, BONNIE LASSIE. Lively.

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O, din-na think, bon-nie las - sie, I’m gaun to leave you ; Din-na think,

I

Slower.

t Far’s the gate ye hae to gang, Dark’s the night and ee - rie:

:pc=*=zi=fc£ • m- . ^E^E£E?

Far’s the gate ye hae to gang, Dark’s the night and ee - - rie;

^

stay at home, it’s late at night, an’ din - na gang an’ leave me.


It’s but a night an’ ha’f a day that I’ll leave my dearie; But a night an’ ha’f a day that I’ll leave my dearie ; But a night an’ ha’f a day that I’ll leave my dearie ; When the sun gaes west the loch, I’ll come again an’ see thee.

Waves are rising o’er the sea, winds blaw loud an’ fear me ; Waves are rising o’er the sea, winds blaw loud an’ fear me; While the waves and winds do roar, I am wae and dreary ; An’ gin ye lo’e me as ye say, ye winna gang an’ leave me.

3, dinna think, bonnie lassie, I’m gaun to leave you; linna think, bonnie lassie, I’m gaun to leave you ; )inna think, bonnie lassie, I’m gaun to leave you ; Jor let the warld gae as it will, I’ll come again and see you.

LASSIE WI’ THE LINT-WHITE LOCKS. With cheerfulness.

Las-sie, wi’ the lint-white locks, Bon-nie las-sie, art-less las - sie,

& ♦-s- Wilt thou wi' me tent the flocks ? Wilt thou be my dear - - ie, O ?

jex: i

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Now Nature deeds the flow'-ry lea, And a' is young and sweet like thee. O, /T\

i wilt thou share its joys wi’ me, And say thou’lt be my dear - ie, O ? D. C.


And when the welcome simmer shower Has cheer’d ilk drooping little flower, Well to the breathing woodbine bower

At sultry noon, my dearie, O. Lassie wi’, &c.

When Cynthia lights wi’ silver ray The weary shearer’s hameward way, Thro’ yellow waving fields we’ll stray, And talk o’ love, my dearie, O.

Lassie wi’, kc.

And when the howling wintry blast Disturbs my lassie’s midnight rest. Enclasped to my faithful breast.

I’ll comfort thee, my dearie, O. Lassie wi’ the lint-white locks,

Bonnie lassie, artless lassie. Wilt thou wi’ me tent the flocks ?

Wilt thou be my dearie, O ?

L ively. THE LASS O’ GOWRIE.

I p * on a sim-mer af-ter-noon, A wee be-fore the sun gaed down,

las - sie, in a braw new gown. Came o’er the hill to Gow - - rie.

The rose-bud ting’d wi’ morning show’r,Blooms fresh within the sun-ny bow’r : But

FLOWEBS OF SCOTTISH MELODY. 65

Nae thought had I to do her wrang; But round her waist my arms I flang, And said, my dearie, will ye gang

To see the Carse of Gowrie? I’ll take ye to my father’s ha’. In yon green fields beside the shaw; I’ll make you lady of them a’,

The brawest wife in Gowrie.

A silken gown of siller gray, My mither coft last New-year’s Day, And buskit me frae tap to tae.

To keep me out of Gowrie. Daft Will, short syne, came courting Nell, And won the lass ; but what befel, Or whare she’s gane, she kens hersel’—

She staid na lang in Gowrie.

Sic thoughts, dear Katie, ill combine Wi’ beauty rare and wit like thine ; Except yoursel’, my bonnie queen,

I care for nought in Gowrie. Since first I saw you in the sheel, To you my heart’s been true and leal j The darkest night I fear na deil,

Warlock, or witch, in Gowrie.

Saft kisses on her lips I laid, The blush upon her cheek soon spread; Then whisper’d modestly, and said,

O, Kate, I’ll stay in Gowrie! The auld folks soon gae their consent; Syne for Mess John they quickly sent, Wha tied them to their heart’s content,

And now she’s Lady Gowrie.


THE EWIE WE THE CHOOKED HORN. Moderately.

I*

• *—«-g- O, were I a - ble to rehearse, My ew-ie*s praise in prose or verse, I’d

m id

sound it out as lang and fierce, As e - ver pi - per’s drone could blavv.

*—•- ’ JlZ r ZTZZ fa::

My ew - ie wi the crook-ed horn, A' that kend her could hae sworn

I neither needed tar nor keil To mark her upon hip or heel; Her crooked horn it did as weel To ken her by amang them a’.

The ewie, &c.

Cauld or hunger never dang her, Wind or rain could never wrang her; Anee she lay a week and langer Out aneath a wreath o’ snaw.

The ewie, &c.

I looked aye at even for her, For fear the foumart might devour her, Or some mishanter had come o’er her. Gin the beastie hade awa.

The ewie, &c.


Yet, Monday last, for a’ ray keeping, I canna speak it without greeting, A villain came when I was sleeping, And stow my ewie, horn, and a’.

The ewie, &c.

I sought her sair upon the morn ; And down beneath a buss o’ thorn I got my ewie’s crooked horn ; But, ah ! my ewie was awa.

The ewie, &c.

But an I had the loon that did it, I hae sworn as weel as said it, Though a’ the warld should forbid it, I wad gie his neck a thraw.

The ewie, &c.

For a’ the claith that we hae worn, Frae her and her’s sae aften shorn, The loss o’ her we could hae borne, Had fair strae death ta’en her awa.

The ewie, &c.

But, silly thing, to loose her life Aneath a greedy villain’s knife, I’m really fear’d that our gudewife Sail never win aboon’t ava.

The ewie, &c.

O, a’ ye bards about Kinghorn, Call up your muses, let them mourn ; Our ewie wi’ the crooked horn Is stown frae us, and fell’d and a’.

The ewie, &c.


#■

HAUD AWA’ FRAE ME, DONALD. Moderately.

Haud a - - wa\ bide a - wa\ Hand a - wa’ frae me, Do-nald ; /T\

TCT, i

What care I for a’ your wealth, Or a’ that ye can gie, Do-nald!

#-

I wad-na leave my law-land lad For a‘ your gowd and gear, Donald; Sae Da capo.

/T\

a tak’ your plaid, and o’er the hill, And stay nae lang - er here, Donald.

My Jamie is a gallant youth, I lo’e but him alane, Donald ;

And in bonnie Scotland’s isle, Like him there is nane, Donald.

Haud awa, &c.

He wears nae plaid, nor tartan hose, Nor garters at his knee, Donald ;

But, 01 he wears a faithfu’ heart, And love blinks in his e’e Donald.

Sae haud awa’, bide awa’. Come nae mair at e’en, Donald;

I wadna break my Jamie’s heart To be a Highland queen, Donald.


HOY’S WIFE OF ALDIYALOCH.

Moderately.

"-H-H M y ^ •

Soy's wife of A1 - di - ya - loch, Roy’s wife of A1 - di - va - loch,

*=¥ Wat ye how she cheat-ed me. As I came o’er the braes o’ Bal-loch.

m She vow’d, she swore she wad be mine, She said she loe’d me

a=z tv—» E

best of o - - ny; But, oh ! the fick - le, faith - less quean, She’s /Tn

ta’en the carle; and left her John - - nie. Roy’s wife of

A1 - di - va-loch, Roy’s wife of A1 - di - va-loch, Wat ye how she

EE5E2EE3EE3 cheat - ed me, As I came o’er the braes o Bal - loch.

E


0, she was a cantie quean, And weel could dance the Highland walloch ;

How happy I, had she been mine, Or I’d been Roy of Aldivaloeh.

Roy’s wife, &c.

Her hair sae fair, her e’en sae clear, Her wee bit mou, sae sweet and bonnie;

To me she ever will be dear, Though she’s for ever left her Johnnie.

Roy’s wife, &c.

But Roy is aulder thrice than me, Perhaps his days will no be mony;

Syne, when the carl is dead and gane, She then may turn her thoughts on Johnnie.

Roy’s wife, &e.

THE STAR OF GLENGARY. Moderate.

muz*

The red moon is up o’er the moss co - ver’d moun-tains, The

fa; hour is at hand when I pro - rais’d to rove, With the

*—• *—«- - - ta * ifer’s daugh - ter, by Lo - gan’s fair* wa - - ter, And


tell her how

pH tell

tru - - ly her Do - nald can love, And

her how tru - - ly her Do - naid can love.

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ken there’s the mil - ler, wi* plen - ty -F

pig

sil - - ler, Wad /Tn

ar—

fain win a smile frae her bon - nie blue e’e; But my

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ain charm - ing Ma - - ry, the star o’ Glen - ga - ry, My

ZJ . . ... ^ ain bon - nie Ma - - ry, the star o’ Glen - ga - ry, Keeps


’Tis lang since we first trod the Hielands thegitlier, Twa frolicsome bairns, gaily startling the deer,

When I ca’d her my life, my bonnie wee wife, And ne’er knew sic joy as when Mary was near, And ne’er knew sic joy as when Mary was near.

An’ still she’s the blossom I wear in my bosom, A blossom I’ll cherish and wear till I die;

For my ain charming Mary, the star o’ Glengary, My ain bonnie Mary, the star o’ Glengary, She’s health and she’s wealth, an’ she’s a’ good to me.

Tenderly. DONALD AND FLORA.

N-<-

When mer - ry hearts were gay, Care-less of aught but play, Poor Flo - ra /TN

I * slipt a - way, Sadd’ning to Mo - ra. Loose flow’d her yel - low hair,

/T\

f •n*

Quick heav’d her bo-som bare, And thus to the troubled air She vented her sorrow.

Loud howls the northern blast, Bleak is the dreary waste ; Haste, then, O, Donald, haste,

Haste to thy Flora ! Twice twelve long months are o’er, Since on a foreign shore You promised to fight no more.

But meet me in Mora.


Come, then, O, come away! Donald! no longer stay ! Where can my rover stray

From his lov’d Flora ? Ah! sure he ne’er could he False to his vows and me 1 Heavens ! is’t not yonder he

Comes hounding o’er Mora ? Never, O, wretched fair ! Sigh’d the sad messenger, Never shall Donald mair

Meet his lov’d Flora! Cold as yon mountain’s snow, Donald, thy love, lies low ! He sent me to soothe thy woe,

While weeping in Mora.

Well fought our valiant men, On Saratoga’s plain; Thrice fled the hostile train

From British glory. But, though our foes did flee, Sad was each victory ! For youth, love, and loyalty,

Fell, far, far from Mora 1 Here, take this love-wrought plaid, Donald, expiring, said; Give it to yon dear maid,

Drooping in Mora. Tell her, O, Allan, tell! Donald thus bravely fell, And that in his last farewell

He thought on his Flora ! Mute stood the trembling fair, Speechless with wild despair! Striking her bosom bare,

She sigh’d, poor Flora! Ah! Donald, ah! well-a-day ! Flora no more could say; At length the sound died away

For ever in Mora 1


ye’ll con - sent to be ray bride. Nor think on Do - nald mair.

O, wha wad buy a silk-en gown Wi’ a poor bro-ken heart? Or

what's to me a sil - ler crown, Gin frae my love I part ?

The mind whose meanest wish is pure, Far dearer is to me;

And ere I’m forc’d to break my faith, I’ll lay me doun and dee.

For I hae vow’d a virgin’s vow, My lover’s fate to share ;

And he has gi’en to me his heart, And what can man do mair ?

His mind and manners wan my heart, He gratefu’ took the gift;

And did I wish to see it back, It wad be waur than theft;

F »r angest life can ne’er repay The love he bears to me ;

And ere I’m forc’d to break my faith. I’ll lay me doun and dee.


O, MARY, YE'SE BE CLAD IN SILK. Same Air as “ And ye shall walk in silk attire."

O, Mary, ye’se be clad in silk. And diamonds in your hair,

Gin ye’ll consent to be my bride. Nor think on Arthur mair.

Oh, wha wad wear a silken goun, Wi’ tears blindin’ their e’e?

Before I break my true love’s chain, I’ll lay me doun and dee.

Eor I have pledged my virgin troth, Brave Arthur’s fate to share;

And he has gi’en to me his heart, Wi’ a’ its virtues rare.

The mind whose every wish is pure, Far dearer is to me ;

And ere I’m forced to break my faith, I’ll lay me doun and dee.

So trust me, when I swear to thee, By a’ that is on high,

Though ye had a’ this warld’s gear. My heart ye couldna buy;

For langest life can ne’er repay The love he bears to me;

And ere I’m forc’d to break my faith, I’ll lay me doun and dee.

KIND ROBIN LO’ES ME. With animation.

Ko-bin is my on - - ly jo, For Ro - bin has the


art to lo’e; So to his suit I mean

■Or

ken'd that Ro - bin lo'ed me.

He’s tall and sonsy, frank and free, He’s lo’ed by a’, and dear to me ; AVi’ him I’d live, wi’ him I’d die, Because my Robin lo’es me. My little Mary said to me, Our courtship but a joke would be. And I ere long be made to see That Robin didna lo’e me.

But little kens she what has been Me and my honest Rob between. And in my wooing, O, sae keen Kind Robin is that lo'es me. Then fly, ye lazy hours, away, And hasten on the happy day, When, join your hands, Mess John will say. And make him mine that lo’es me.


O, THIS IS NO MY AIN LASSIE. Hoitrate.

£ 57=^

O, this is no my ain las - sie, Fair tho’ the las - sie be; O,

weel ken I my ain las - sie, Kind love is in her e’e.

I see a form, I see a face, Ye weel may win the fair - est place, It

im ^=5 wants to me the witch - ing grace, The hind love that’s in her e’e.

O, this is no my ain lassie. Fair though the lassie be,

Weel ken I my ain lassie, Kind love is in her e’e.

She’s bonnie, blooming, straight, and tall, And lang has had my heart in thrall;

And aye it charms my very saul, The kind love that’s in her e’e.

O, this is no, &c. A thief sae pawky is my Jean,

To steal a blink by a’ unseen, But gleg as light as lover’s e’en.

When kind love is in the e’e.

O, this is no, &c. It may escape the courtly sparks,

It may escape the learned clerks, But weel the watching lover marks

The kind love that’s in her e’e.


Lively. t: '

LET US HASTE TO KELVIN GROVE.

m. s K

Let us haste to Kel - vin grove, bon-nie las - sie, O; Thro’ its

i 4c: ma - - zes let us rove, bon - nie las - sie, O : Where the

r, _ /T\

rose, in all its pride, Paints the hoi - low din - gle side, Where the

£ wan - der to the mill, bon - nie las - sie, O; To the

cove be - side the rill, bon - nie

injE

las - - sie, O; Where the /T\

£ £

■K 1? A A

glens re - bound the call of the lof - ty wa - ter - fall, Thro’ the ±r— • r J58!-

moun - tain’s rock - y hall, bon - nie las - sie, O. Thro’ the


Then we’ll up to yonder glade, honnie lassie, O, Where so oft beneath the shade, bonnie lassie, O,

With the songsters in the grove, we have told our tale of love. And have sportive garlands wove, bonnie lassie, O, Ah! I soon must bid adieu, bonnie lassie, O, To this fairy scene and you, bonnie lassie, O,

To the streamlet winding clear, to the fragrant scented brier, E’en to thee, of af.1 most dear, bonnie lassie, 0.

For the frowns of fortxie low’r, bonnie lassie, O, On thy lover at this hour, bonnie lassie, O ;

Ere the golden orb of day wake the warblers on the spray. From this land I must away, bonnie lassie, O. And when on a distant shore, bonnie lassie, O, Should I fall ’midst battle’s roar, bonnie lassie, O,

Wilt thou, Julia, when you hear of thy lover on his bier, To his mem’ry drop a tear, bonnie lassie, 0 ?

THE BLUE BELLS OF SCOTLAND. Moderate.

£

O, where, and O where does your Hie-land lad - die dwell?

f: &

He dwells in mer - ry Scot - land, where the blue - bells sweet - ly

1 7

smell; And, oh! io my heart I love my lad - die well.


O, what, lassie, what does your Hieland laddie wear ? O, what, lassie, what does your Hieland laddie wear ? A scarlet coat and bonnet blue, with bonnie yellow hair, And nane in a’ the warld can with my love compare.

O, where, and O, where is your Hieland laddie gane ? O, where, and O, where is your Hieland laddie gane ? He’s gane to fight for George our King, and left me a’ alane : For noble and brave is my loyal Hielandman.

O, when, and O, when will your Hieland lad come hame ? O, when, and O when will your Hieland lad come hame ? Whene’er the war is o’er, he’ll return to me with fame. With the heather in his bonnet, my gallant Hielandman.

O, FOORTITH CAULD. Tenaerly.

^ • J ■ — O, poor-tith cauld and rest - less lore. Ye wreck my peace be -

-• ^

tween ye; Yet poor - tith a’ I could for - gic, Au’t

I EH* « »

«—* were - na for my Jean - ie. O, why should fate sio plea - sures

£ Or why sae sweet a have, Life’s dear - est bands un - twin - ing ;


Sz

flow'r as love De - - pend on for - tune’s shin - ing ?

This warld’s wealth, when I think on, Its pride, and a’ the lave o’t;

Eie, fie on silly coward man, That he should be the slave o’t.

O, why, &c.

Her e’en, sae bonnie blue, betray How she repays my passion;

But prudence is her o’erword aye: She talks of rank and fashion.

O, why, &e.

O, wha can prudence think upon, And sic a lassie by him ? O, wha can prudence think upon,

And sae in love as I am ? O, why, &c.

How blest the humble cotter’s fate! He woos his simple dearie ;

The silly bogles, wealth and state, Can never make him eerie.

O, why, &c.

LORD GREGORY. Slow.

£ :o:

O, rairk, mirk is this Tiid-night hour, And loud the tern - pest's


ope thy door. An ex - - ile frae her fa - - ther’s ha\ And

Lord Gregory, mind’st thou not the grove, By bonnie Irwin side,

Where first I own’d that virgin love I lang, lang had denied ?

How aften didst thou pledge and vow Thou wad for aye be mine ;

And my fond heart, itsel’ sae true, It ne’er mistrusted thine.

Hard is thy heart, Lord Gregory, And flinty is thy breast;

Thou dart of heaven that flashest by, O, wilt thou give me rest!

Ye mustering thunders, from above, Your willing victim see ;

But spare, and pardon my fause love, His wrangs to heaven and me.


pel

O, WAT YE WHA THAT LO’ES ME. With feeling.

Si fY—Nr • ^

4^ O, wat ye wha that lo’es me, And has my heart in keep-ing ? O.

sweet is she that lo’es me, As dews of sum - mer weep-ing. In

tat I=e;

tears the rose-buds steep - ing, O, that’s the las - - sie /TN ^

o* my heart, My las - - sie, e - - ver dear - er; O,

that's the queen of wo - man kind, And ne’er a ane to peer her.

If thou shalt meet a lassie In grace and beauty charming,

That e’en thy chosen lassie, Ere while thy breast sae warming, Had ne’er sic powers alarming,

O, that’s the lassie, &c.

If thou hadst heard her talking, And thy attention’s plighted,

That ilka body talking. But her, by thee is slighted, Aud thou art delighted,



If thou hast met this fair one, When frae her thou hast parted.

If every other fair one, But her thou hast deserted, And thou art broken-hearted,


HAD I A CAVE ON SOME WILD DISTANT SHORE. With feeling,

"P f :fcLy 'r

O, had I a cave on some wild dis - tant shore.

Where the winds howl to the wave’s dash - ing roar.

Falsest of woman kind, canst thou declare All thy fond plighted vows fleeting as air ?

To thy new lover hie. Laugh o’er thy perjury; Then in thy bosom try What peace is there.


O, NANNY, WILT THOU GANG WT ME ?

F


O, Nannie, when thou’rt far away, Wilt thou not cast a look behind ?

Say, can’st thou face the parching ray, Nor shrink before the wintry wind ?

O, can that soft and gentle mein Severest hardships learn to bear.

Nor sad regret each courtly scene, Where thou wert fairest of the fair ?

O, Nannie, can’st thou love so true. Through perils keen wi’ me to go ?

Or when thy swain mishap shall rue, To share with him the pang of woe ?

And when invading pains befall, Wilt thou assume the nurse’s care,

Nor wistful those gay scenes recall. Where thou wert fairest of the fair ?

And when at last thy love shall die, Wilt thou receive his parting breath ?

Wilt thou repress each struggling sigh, And cheer with smiles the bed of death ?

And wilt thou o’er his much-lov’d clay Strew flowers, and drop the tender tear ;

Nor then regret those scenes so gay, Where thou wert fairest of the fair ?

FAREWELL THOU STREAM THAT WINDING FLOWS.

flows


Love’s veriest wretch, unseen, unknown, I fain my griefs would cover ;

The bursting sigh, th’ unweeting groan, Betray the hapless lover.

I know thou doom’st me to despair, Nor wilt, nor can’st, relieve me ;

But, oh! Eliza, hear one prayer— For pity’s sake, forgive me !

The music of thy voice I heard, Nor wist whilst it enslav’d me;

I saw thine eyes, yet nothing fear’d. Till fears no more had sav'd me;


Th’ unwary sailor thus aghast, The wheeling torrent viewing,

’Mid circling horrors sinks at last, In overwhelming ruin.

TURN AGAIN, THOU PAIR ELIZA. Moderately.

a

Turn a - - gain, thou fair E - - - - li - - za, Ae kind

^ K-

§ blink be - - - fore we aart; Rue on thy de - - spair - ing

lov - - er; Cau’st thou break his faith - fu* heart ? Turn a -

§ gain, thou fair E - - - li - za; If to love thy heart de - - nies, For

IN r >

pi - ty hide the cru - el sen-tence Un-der Friend-ship’s hind dis - guise

Thee, dear maid, hae I offended ? The offence is loving thee :

Can’st thou wreck his peace for ever, Wha for thine would gladly die ?


While the life beats in my bosom, Thou shalt mix in ilka throe ;

Turn again, thou lovely maiden, Ae sweet smile on me bestow.

Not the bee upon the blossom, In the pride o’ sunny noon ;

Not the little sporting fairy, All beneath the simmer moon ;

Not the poet, in the moment Fancy lightens in his e’e,

Kens the pleasure, feels the rapture, That thy presence gies to me.

OH! OPEN THE BOOK. Slow.

n Oh! o - - pen the door, some pi - - ty to show, Oh!

o - pen the door to me, oh ! Tho’ —*«S-

thou hast been false, I’ll

Iss # s e - ver prove true; Oh! o - pen the door to me, oh!

Oh ! cauld is the blast upon my pale cheek, But caulder thy love for me, oh;

The frost that freezes the life at my heart, Is nought to my pains frae thee, oh !


The wan moon is setting behind the white wave, And time is setting with me, oh ;

False friends, false love, farewell! for mair I’ll ne’er trouble them, nor thee, oh 1

She has open’d the door, she has open’d it wide, She sees his pale corse on the plain, oh !

My true love ! she cried, and sunk down by his side, Never to rise again, oh 1

Moderate. BONNIE JEAN.

blyth-est bird up - on the bush Had ne’er a light - er heart than she.


But hawks will rob the tender joys That bless the little lintwhite’s nest,

And frost will blight the fairest flower. And love will break the soundest rest.

Young Robie was the brawest lad, The flower and pride of a’ the glen;

And he had owsen, sheep, and kye, And wanton naggies nine or ten.

He gaed wi’ Jeanie to the tryst, He danced wi’ Jeanie on the down,

And lang ere witless Jeanie wist, Her heart was tint, her peace was stown.

As in the bosom of the stream The moonbeam dwells at dewy e’en,

So trembling, pure, was tender love Within the breast o’ bonnie Jean.

And now she works her mammy’s work, And aye she sighs wi’ care and pain ;

Yet wistna what her ail might be, Or what wad make her weel again.

But didna Jeanie’s heart loup light, And didna joy blink in her e’e.

As Robie tauld a tale o’ love, Ae e’ening on the lily lea ?

The sun was sinking in the west, The birds sang sweet in ilka grove,

His cheek to hers he fondly prest, And whisper’d thus his tale o’ love:

0, Jeanie fair, I love thee dear ! O, canst thou think to fancy me ?

Or wilt thou leave thy mammy’s cot, And learu to tent the farms wi’ me ?

At barn nor byre thou shalt na drudge, Or naething else to trouble thee,

But stray amang the heather-bells, And tent the waving corn wi’ me.


Now what could artless Jennie do ? She hadna will to say him na;

At length she blush’d a sweet consent, And lore was aye between them twa.

WILT THOU BE MY DEARIE ?

Moderately.


Lassie, say thou lo’es me ; Or, if thou wiltna be my ain,

Sayna thou’lt refuse me. If it winna, canna be,

Thou for thine may chuse me ; Let me, lassie, quickly die.

Trusting that thou lo’es me.

Tenderly. MY HEART IS SAIR FOR SOMEBODY.

My heart is sair, I dare-na tell, My heart is sair for some - bo - dy ; Oh !

I could wake a win - ter night, A‘ for the sake o’ some - bo - dy.

Oh hone ! for some - bo - dy! Oh hey ! for some - - bo - - dy ! /Ts

£ i=£=p= ^ \ „ =?=i=A- || h_pj3

I could range the world a - round. For the sake o' some - bo - dy.

How aft I’ve wander’d by the burn, At gloamin’ hour wi’ somebody,

And listen’d to the tale o’ love, Sae sweetly told by somebody.

Oh hone ! for somebody ! Oh hey ! for somebody 1 Wing’d wi’ joy the moments flew, Sae blest was I with somebody.

')4 FLOWERS OF SCOTTISH MELODY.

But now the tear-drap dims my e’e, Whene’er I think o’ somebody ;

For weel I lo’e the bonnie lad That’s far awa’—my somebody.

Oh hone I for somebody! Oh hey ! for somebody ! While I live I’ll ne’er forget The parting look o’ somebody.

Ye powers that smile on virtuous love, O, sweetly smile on somebody!

Frae ilka danger keep him free, And send me safe my somebody.

Oh hone ! for somebody ! Oh hey 1 for somebody 1 I wad do—what wad I not ? For the sake o’ somebody.

BLUE BONNETS OVER THE BORDER. With spirit.

£ :8i±

March, march. Et - - trick and Te - - viot - - dale ;


for your Queen and the old Scot - tish glo - - ry. Da capo.

Come from the hills where your hirsels are grazing, Come from the glen of the buck and the roe ;

Come to the crag where the beacon is blazing. Come with the buckler, the lance, and the bow.

Trumpets are sounding, war-steeds are bounding, Stand to your arms, and march in good order ;

England shall many a day tell of the bloody fray, When the blue bonnets came over the border.

Moderately. JOCK O’ HAZELDEAN.

by the


neeii; But aye she loot the tears down fa'. For Jock o’ Ha - ael-dean.

Now, let tliis wilfu’ grief be done, And dry that cheek so pale,

Young Frank is chief of Errington, And lord of Langley dale.

His step is first in peaceful ha’, His sword in battle keen.

But aye she loot the tears down fa’, For Jock o’ Hazeldean.

A chain o’ gold ye shall not lack, Nor braid to bind your hair.

Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk, Nor palfry fresh and fair ;

And you, the foremost of them a’, Shall ride our forest queen.

But aye she loot the tears down fa’, For Jock o’ Hazeldean.

The kirk was deck’d at morning tide, The taper glimmer’d fair,

The priest and bridegroom wait the bride, The dame and knight are there.

They sought her both by bower and ha’. The lady was not seen;

She’s o’er the border, and awa’ Wi’ Jock o’ Hazeldean.


ETTRICK BANKS. Moderately.

On Et - trick banks, in ae sum - mer’s night. At gloam-ing, when the

sheep drave hame, I met my las - - sie braw and tight. Come

I said, my lassie, will ye go To the Highland hills, the Erse to learn ?

I’ll gie thee baith a cow and ewe. When ye come to the brigg of Earn.

At Leith auld meal comes in, ne’er fash, And herrings at the Broomielaw ;

Cheer up your heart, my bonnie lass, There’s gear to win ye never saw.

All day, when we hae wrought enough, When winter frost and snaw begin.

Soon as the sun goes west the loch, At night, when you sit down to spin.


I’ll screw my pipes, and play a spring; And thus the weary night will en’,

Till the tender bird and lamb-time bring Our pleasant summer back again.

Syne when the trees are in their bloom. And gowans glent o’er ilka fiel’,

I’ll meet my lass amaug the broom, And lead you to my summer sheel.

Then far from a’ the scornfu’ din, That makes the kindly hearts their sport.

We’ll laugh, and kiss, and dance, and sing, And gar the langest day seem sliort.

THE BANKS OF ALLAN WATER. With expression.

Si ±rj£\

On the banks of A1 - lan wa - ter, When the sweet Spring time did

5*^ £

fall. Was the mil - let’s love - ly daugh - ter, Fair - est of them

£ £ £ tr—

all. For his bride a sol - dier sought her, And a win-ning tongue had /TN ,

<v

3 he; On the banks of A1 - lan wa - ter, None so gay as she.


On the banks of Allan water When brown autumn spreads his store.

There I saw the miller’s daughter, But she smiled no more;

For the summer grief had brought her, And her soldier false was he :

On the banks of Allan water None so sad as she.

On the banks of Allan water, When the winter snow fell fast,

Still was seen the miller’s daughter; Chilling blew the blast.

But the miller’s lovely daughter Both from cold and care was free :

On the banks of Allan water There a corse lay she.

A MAN’S A MAN FOR A’ THAT. With energy.

£ w I p J-P

Is there for ho - nest po - ver - ty Wha hangs his head, and

£ that? The cow - ard slave, we pass him by, And

daur be puir for that. For a’ that, and a* that, Our

toils ob - scure, and that; The rank is but tho


/T\

£ £

gui nea stamp, The man’s the gowd for that.

What though on hamely fare we dine, Wear hoddin’ grey, and a’ that;

Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine : A man’s a man for a’ that.

For a’ that, and a’ that, Their tinsel show, and a’ that: The honest man, though e’er sae puir, Is king o’ men for a’ that.

Ye see yon birkie, ca’d a lord, Wha struts, and stares, and a’ that;

Though hundreds worship at his word, He’s but a coof, for a’ that.

For a’ that, and a’ that, His ribband, star, and a’ that; The man of independent mind Can look and laugh at a’ that.

A king can mak’ a belted knight, A marquis, duke, and a’ that;

But an honest man’s aboon his might: Guid faith, he mamma fa’ that.

For a’ that, and a’ that, Their dignities, and a’ that, The pith o’ sense, and pride o’ worth, Are grander far than a’ that.

Then let us pray that come it may, As come it will, for a’ that,

When sense and worth o’er a’ the earth Shall bear the gree, and a that.

For a’ that, and a’ that, It’s coming yet, for a’ that; When man to man, the warld o’er. Shall brithers be for a’ that.


THOU DARK WINDING CARBON. Slow.

Thou dark wind - ing Car - ron once pleas - ing to see, To

me thou canst ne - ver give plea-sure a - gain, My brave Cal - e - don - ians lie

NS 3

poor bleed-ing coun-try what more can I do ? E’en va - lour looks pale o’er the

red field of ru-in, And freedom be-holds her best war-riors laid low.

Farewell! ye dear partners of peril, farewell! Though buried ye lie in one wide bloody grave;

Your deeds shall ennoble the place where ye fell. And your names be enroll’d with the sons of the brave.

But I, a poor outcast, in exile must wander, Perhaps like a traitor ignobly must die I

On thy wrongs, O, my country 1 indignant, I ponder; Ah! woe to the hour when thy Wallace must fly

G ..r,Ui


Moderately. GLOOMY WINTER’S NOW AWA’.

I

y:

§ ^-—7-

Gloo-my win-ter’s now a - wa’, Saft the west - lin breez - es blaw ;

'Mang the birks o* Stan - ly shaw The ma - vis sings fu’ chee - rie, O.

Sweet the craw-flow,’rs ear - ly bell, Decks Glen - if - fer’s dew - y del ;

i * Blooming like thy bon - ny sel\ My young, my art - less dea - rie, O.

£=F £—7 Come, ray las - sie, let us stray, O'er Glen - kil - loch's sun - ny brae;

§3H nni Blythe-ly spend the gow-dcn day, 'Midst joys that ne - - ver wea-ry, O

Tow’ring o’er the Newton woods, Lav’rocks fan the snaw-white clouds; Siller saughs, wi’ downiebuds,

Adorn the banks sae brierie, O. Round the sylvan fairy nooks, Eeath’ry brechans fringe the rocks; ’Neath the brae the burnie jouks,

And ilka thing is cheerie, O.


THE BRAES O’ GLENIFFER. Same air as foregoing.

Keen blaws the wind o’er the braes o’ Gleniffer, The auld castle turrets are cover’d wi’ snaw ;

How changed frae the time when I met wi’ my lover, Among the broom bushes by Stanley green shaw.

The wild flowers o’ simmer were spread a’ sae bonny ; The mavis sang sweet frae the green hirken tree ;

But far to the camp they hae march’d my dear Johnny, An’ now it is winter wi’ nature an’ me

Then ilk thing around us was hlythsome and cheery, Then ilk thing around us was bonnie and hraw ;

Now naething is heard but the wind whistling dreary, An’ naething is seen hut the wide-spreading snaw :

The trees are a’ hare, an’ the birds mute an’ dowie, They shake the cauld drift frae their wings as they flee;

And chirp out their plaints, seeming wae for my Johnny : ’Tis winter wi’ them, an’ ’tis winter wi’ me.

Yon cauld sleety cloud skiffs along the bleak mountain, An’ shakes the dark firs on the stey rocky brae;

While down the deep glen bawls the snaw-flooded fountain, That murmured sae sweet to my laddie an’ me.

’Tis no’ its loud road, on the wintry wind swelling, ’Tis no’ the cauld blast brings the tears i’ my e’e;

For O ! gin I saw but my bonnie Scotch callan, The dark days o’ winter were simmer to me.

Lively. THE RED RED ROSE.

#e/.T

O my love is like the red red rose, that’s newly sprung in June, O my

i —m—•“ love is like the me - lo - d'y That’s sweet - - ly pltvy’d in tune.


g^TT r » ^^

I will love thee still, my love, Tho* the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi’ the sun,

And I will love thee still, my dear, While the sands of life shall run.

But fare thee weel, my only love, And fare thee weel a while,

And I will come again, my love, Tho’ ’twere ten thousand mile

MY NANNIE, O.

FLOWERS OF SCOTTISH MELODY. ior

My Nannie’s charmin’, sweet, and young; Nae artfu’ wiles to win ye, O;

May ill befa’ the flatterin’ tongue That wad beguile my Nannie, O!

Her face is fair, her heart is true, As spotless as she’s bonnie, 0 ;

The openin’ gowan, wet wi’ dew, Nae purer is than Nannie, O.

A country lad is my degree, An’ few there be that ken me, O ;

But what care I how few they be, I’m welcome aye to Nannie, O.

My riches a’s my penny fee, And I maun guide it cannie, O;

But warl’s gear ne’er troubles me. My thoughts are a’ my Nannie, O.

Our auld guidman delights to view His sheep an’ kye thrive bonnie, O ;

But I’m as blythe that bauds his plough. And has nae care but Nannie, O.

Come weel, come woe, I care na by, I’ll tak’ what Heaven will send me, O;

Nae ither care in life hae I, But live and love my Nannie, O.


P

O’ A’ THE AIRTS THE WIN’ CAN BLAW. Moderate.

v V fs

PS O’ a’ the airts the win’ can blaw, I dear - ly lo’e the west. For

there the bon - nie las - sie lives, The lass that I lo’e best. Tho’

wild woods grow, and ri - vers row, Wi’ mony a hill be-tween; Baith

ST' "ft'

day and night my fan - cy’s flight Is e - - ver wi* my Jean. I

m

see her in the dew - - y flow’rs, sae love - ly sweet and fair, I r\

f=L|= ^ hear her voice in il - - ka bird, Wi’ mu - sic chan

—-—it —* — charms the air. There’s

no' a bon - nie flow'r that springs, by fountain, shaw, or green, There's

P m I

no* a bon - nie bird that sings, But minds me o* my Jean.


O blaw ye westlin winds, blaw saft Amang the leafy trees,

Wi’ gentle gale, frae hill and dale, Bring hame the laden bees ;

And bring the lassie back to me. That’s aye sae neat and clean;

Ae blink o’ her wad banish care, Sae lovely is my Jean.

What sighs and vows, amang the knowes Hae passed atween us twa!

How fain to meet, how wae to part, That night she gaed awa!

The powers aboon can only ken, To whom the heart is seen,

That nane can be sae dear to me As my sweet lovely Jean.

MY ONLY JO AND DEAEIE, O. Slowly.

as aza. -fr—v

Thy cheek is o' the rose’s hue, My on-ly jo and

dearie, O ; Thy neck is like the sil-ler dew, Up-on the bank sae briery, O ;

S r:a

Thy teeth are o’ the i - - vo - ry, O sweet’s the twin-kle o’ thine e’e, Nae _ /T\

3$ joy, nae plea - sure blinks on me, My on-ly jo and dearie. O.


The birdie sings upon the thorn Its sang o’ joy fu’ cheery, O,

Rejoicing in the simmer morn, Nae care to make it eerie, O.

Ah, little kens the sangster sweet Aught o’ the care I hae to meet. That gars my restless bosom beat,

My only jo and dearie, O.

When we were bairnies on yon brae, And youth was blinkin’ bonnie, O,

Aft we would daff the lee lang day, Our joys fu’ sweet and monie, O.

Aft I would chase thee ower the lea. And round about the thorny tree, Or pu’ the wild flowers a’ for thee.


I hae a wish I canna tine, ’Mang a’ the cares that grieve me, 0:

A wish that thou wert ever mine, And never mair to leave me, O ;

Then I wad daut thee nicht and day, Nae ither warldly care I’d hae, ’Till life’s warm stream forgat to play,


I GAED A WAEFU’ GATE YESTREEN. Same air as foregoing,

I gaed a waefu’ gate yestreen, A gate, I fear. I’ll dearly rue;

I gat my death frae twa sweet e’en, Twa lovely e’en o’ bonnie blue.

’Twas not her golden ringlets bright, Her lips like roses wat wi’ dew,

Her heaving bosom lily white ; It was her e’en sae bonnie blue.

FLOWERS OF SCOTTISH MELODY. Ill

She talk’d, she smil’d, my heart she wil’d She charm’d my soul, I wistna how ;

And aye the stound, the deadly wound, Came frae her e’en sae honnie blue.

But spare I’d speak, and spare I’d speed, She’ll aiblins listen to my vow ;

Should she refuse. I’ll lay my dead To her twa e’en sae bonnie blue.

0! WERE I ON PARNASSUS HILL. With expression.

m

O were V on Par - - nassus hill, or had of He - li -

§ -ti • d

con my fill, That I might catch po - - - e - tic skill, To /r

* 52

sing how dear love thee. But Nith maun be my

muse’s well, My muse maun be f^/TN

thy bo - - - nie sel’, On hr

ifei -i i - r —

Cor - si - con I'll glow’r and spell, And write how dear I love thee.


Then come, sweet muse, inspire my lay! For a’ the lee-lang simmer’s day I couldna sing, I couldna say,

How much, how dear I love thee. I see thee dancing o’er the green, Thy waist sae jimp, thy limbs sae clean, Thy tempting lips, thy roguish e’en—

By heaven and earth I love thee!

By night, by day, a-field, at hame. The thoughts o’ thee my breast inflame; And aye I muse and sing thy name—

I only live to love thee. Tho’ I were doom’d to wander on Beyond the seas, beyond the sun, Till my last weary sand was run.

Till then—and then I’ll love thee.

Slow and with expression.

ill

O WALY, WALY.

-JV-

-m-3- wa--ly, wa - ly, up the bank, and wa - ly, wa - ly,

r

down the brae. And wa - ly, wa - ly, yon burn side, Where I and my lore


0 waly, waly, love is bonnie ! A little time while it is new ;

But when its auld it waxeth cauld, And fades away like morning dew.

O wherefore should I husk my head ? Or wherefore should I kame my hair ?

For my true love has me forsook, And says he’ll never lo’e me mair.

Now Arthur-seat shall he my bed, The sheits shall ne’er be press’d by me ;

Saint Anton’s well shall he my drink. Since my true love’s forsaken me.

Marti’mas wind, whan wilt thou blaw, And shake the green leaves all' the tree ?

0 gentle death, whan wilt thou come, And tak’ a life that wearies me ?

’Tis not the frost that freezes fell. Nor hlawing snaw’s inclemencie;

’Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry, But my love’s heart grown cauld to me

When we came in by Glasgowe town, We were a comely sight to see;

My love was clad i’ th’ black velvet, And I mysell in cramasie.

But had I wist before I kisst That love had been so ill to win,

1 had lock’d my heart in a case of gowd, And pinn’d it wi’ a siller pin.

Oh, oh! if my young babe were born, And set upon my nurse’s knee,

And I mysell were dead and gane. And the green grass growing over me.


a UmJy- H _

O, saw ye

O, SAW YE BONNIE LESLEY?

* £3= ye bon - nie Les - ley, As she gae’d o’er the

Thou art a queen, fair Lesley, Thy subjects we before thee :

Thou art divine, fair Lesley ; The hearts o’ men adore thee.

The De’il he couldna skaith thee, Or aught that wad belong thee;

He’d look into thy bonny face, And say, I canna wrang thee !

The Powers aboon will tent thee, Misfortune shanna steer thee ;

Thou’rt like themselves sae lovely, That ill they’ll ne’er let near thee.

Return again, fair Lesley, Return to Caledonie !

That we may brag we hae a lass There’s nane again sae bonnie.


THE BONNIE BRIER BUSH. Slowly.

There grows a bon - nie brier bush in our kail - yard, And

§

white are the bios - soras on’t, in our kail - yard; Like

5# -■ *

S 7—v

wee bit white cock - ades for our loy - al Hie - land lads;

L-j—I——I—-d-- d •. »—*—• -a * _□ And the lass - es loe the bou-nie bush in our kail - yard.

But were they a’ true that were far awa’ ? Oh! were they a’ true that were far awa’? They drew up wi’ glaiket Englisher’s at Carlisle ha’, And forgot auld friends when far awa’.

Ye’ll come nae mair, Jamie,‘where aft ye hae been; Ye’ll come nae mair, Jamie, to Athol Green; Ye lo’ed ower weel the dancin’ at Carlisle ha’, And forgot the Hieland hills that were far awa’.

He’s cornin’ frae the north that’s to fancy me; He’s cornin’ frae the north that’s to fancy me ; A feather in his bonnet, and a ribbon at his knee; He’s a bonnie Hieland laddie, and yon be he.


Slowly. HERE AWA, THERE AW A.

Here - - wa, there a - - wa, wan - der - ing Wil - lie,

my bo - - som, my ain on - - ly dear - - ie,

Winter winds blew loud and cauld at our parting ; Fears for my Willie brought tears in my e’e:

Welcome, now summer, and welcome, my Willie; The summer to nature, and Willie to me.

Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave of your slumbers ! How your dread howling a lover alarms !

Waken, ye breezes ! row gently, ye billows ! And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my arms.

But, oh, if he’s faithless, and minds na’ his Nannie, Flow still between us, thou dark heaving main 1

May I never see it, may I never trow it. But, dying, believe that my Willie’s my ain 1


Slowly. WHAT AILS THIS HEART O’ MINE ?

i dm

What ails this heart mine, what ails this wat* - ry e’e, Wha

& *=E • ■ #

mak’s me ay grow cauld as death. When I tak leave o' thee ? When ^ _ -5

thou art far a - wa,’ You’ll dear - er be to me, But

gay j ^

*qp^ £

change o place an’ change o' face, May gar your fan - - cy jee.

I’ll ay gae to the bower, Which thou wi’ roses tied,

There aft amang the blushing buds, I strave my love to hide;

I’ll set me down an’ muse, Beneath yon spreading tree,

An’ gin a leaf fa’ in my lap, I’ll ca’ it word frae thee.

I’ll doat on ilka spot, Where I hae been wi’ thee,

An’ bring to mind some fond love tale, By every burn an’ tree.

’Tis hope that cheers the mind, Tho’ lovers absent be,

For when I think I see thee still, I think I’m still wi’ thee.

H


THOU ART GANE AWA ERAE ME, MARY Slowly.

gag •••

Thou art gane a - wa, thou art gane a - wa, thou art

ne - - - - ver thought That


Whate’er he said or might pretend, Wha stole that heart o’ thine, Mary,

True love, I’m sure, was ne’er his end, Nor nae sic love as mine, Mary.

I spake sincere, ne’er flatter’d much, Had no unworthy thought, Mary ;

Ambition, wealth, nor naething such : No, I lov’d only thee, Mary!

Tho’ you’ve been false, yet while I live No other maid I’ll woo, Mary ;

Let friends forget, as I forgive, Thy wrongs to them and me, Mary.

So, then, farewell; of this he sure, Since you’ve been false to me, Mary,

For all the world I’d not endure Half what I’ve done for thee, Mary.

LADDIE, OH, LEAVE ME. Slow and with expression.

£

i Doun whar the bur-nie rins wimplin and cheer - ie. When love’s star was

-Vr- a smil-in’, I met wi’ my dear - ie, Ah! vain was its smil-in’, she

1 £ ©• * —

wad na be - lieve me, But cried wi’ a sau-cy air, Lad - die, oh,

N: -<5>r 1

leave me, leave ino, leave me, Lad - die, oh, leave me.


“ I’ve lo’ed thee o’er truly, to seek a new dearie; I’ve lo’ed thee o’er fondly, through life e’er to weary; I’ve lo’ed thee o’er lang, love, at last to deceive thee: Look coldly or kindly, but bid me not leave thee.

Leave thee, leave thee, &c.

“ There’s nae ither saft e’e that fills me with pleasure; There’s nae ither rose-lip has half o’ its treasure ; There’s nae ither bower, love, shall ever receive me ; ’Till death break this fond heart—-oh, then I maun leave thee.”


The tears o’er her cheeks ran like' dew from red roses ; What hope to the lover one tear-drop discloses! I kiss’d them, and blest her; at last, to relieve me, She yielded her hand, and sigh’d, “ Oh! never leave me.”


THE WALKING O’ THE FAULD. Moderately.

*»

My Peg - gy is a young thing, Just enter’d in her teens, Fair

as the day, and sweet as May, Fair as the day, and al - ways gay. My

1 Ay ^ i pm j *«

Peg - gy is a young thing, and I’m not ve - ry auld, Yet


m A1 weel I like to meet her at the wauk-ing the fauld. ’ My

Peg - gy cpeaks sae kind - ly, When - e’er we meet a - - lane;

£=±=z: wish nae mair to lay my care, I wish nae mair of a’ that’s rare. My

Peg - gy speaks sae sweet - ly. To the lave I’m cauld ; But

1^# 3^ ng o’ the she gars a' ray spi - - rits glow. At wauk-ing the fauld.

My Peggy smiles sae kindly, Whene’er I whisper love, That I look down on a’ the town, That I look down upon a crown.

My Peggy smiles sae kindly, It makes me blythe and bauld ;

And naething gi’es me sic delight, As wauking o’ the fauld.

My Peggy sings sae saftly, When on my pipe I play ; By a’ the rest it is confest, By a’ the rest that she sings best.

My Peggy sings sae saftly, And in her sangs are tauld

With innocence the wale of sense, At wauking o’ the fauld.


Slowly. THE BLACK-HAIR’D LADDIE.

dl *

A - lack my sad heart! how it throbs wi’ its * sor - row; I

ne’er can # a, - - wa’ wi’ the thoughts o' to - mor - row ; My

3^2 ■£=$ fa - ther he bar - gain’d to part wi* his Flo - ra, My

35

black - hair’d dear lad - die, tak me a - - wa! My

Et= -M

black-hair’d dear lad - - die, O tak me a - - wa !

I flee frae the grey-headed laird an’ my father, I flee to my shepherd, wha trips owre the heather; We aye were fu’ glad when at e’en we’d forgather ;

My black-hair’d dear laddie, O tak me awa.

The story is tauld, an’ her father’s confounded; The ha’ wi’ his rage an’ rampagin’ resounded; The horn, an’ the shout’s spreadin’ clamour, far sounded.

To tell what the shepherd had carried awa.

Owre hill, stream, an’ valley, through bramble an’ brecken, They flew till the fugitives were overtaken ; They’ve torn them asinder, their tender hearts breakin’;

The blaek-hair’d poor shepherd they drave him awa.


The shepherd he look’d in a sad sort o’ languish, An’ Flora, owre-come, in a heart-breakin’ anguish, Exclaim’d, “ frosty-hair’d laird ne’er shall extinguish

My love for the laddie they’ve driven awa.”

Then Flora, my life’s saul, refrain thy sad sorrov.r, Nor heed ye the purposed plan o’ to-morrow; The dotard is doited, thy shepherd, dear Flora,

Ere morning’s gray dawnin’ will hae thee awa.

THE YELLOW-HAIR’D LADDIE. Tenderly.

“—r™- a

The yel - low-hair’d lad - - die sat down on yon

brae, Cries, milk the ewes, las - - - - sie, let

them gae; And aye as she

-a—_ ^ milk - - - ed, and ay as she sang, “ The i

yel - low - hair’d lad - die shall be my gui -- man.”


The weather is cauld, and my claithing is thin The ewes are new clipped, they winna bught in; The winna bught in, altho’ I shou’d die ; O, yellow-hair’d laddie, be kind unto me. They winna bught in, altho’ I shou’d die, O, yellow-hair’d laddie, be kind unto me.

The goodwife cries butt the house, Jenny, come ben, The cheese is to make, and the butter’s to kirn; Tho’ butter, and cheese, and a’ shou’d gae sour, I’ll crack and I’ll kiss wi’ my love ae hauf hour, It’s ae hauf hour, and we’s e’en mak it three, Tor my yellow-hair’d laddie my husband shall be.

Briskly. THE JOLLY BEGGAR.

There was a jol - ly beg - gar, And a beg - ging he • /r\ FI

£ was boun\ And he took up his quar - ters In-

/7\

r ^ r j- to a land'art toun. And v^Fll gang nae mair a rov - - ing Sae

/TN

i* i J £3^

late in - to the night, And we’ll gang nae mair a rov - ing, Let the ~ /T\

J J •- J 1 ine e’er so bright, And* we’11 gan

i ^—r rov - ing. moon shine e' gang nae mair


He wad neither lie into the barn, Nor yet wad he in byre,

But in ahint the ha’ door, Or else ayont the fire.

And we’ll gang nae mair, &c.

The beggar’s bed was made at e’en, Wi’ guid clean straw and hay,

Just in ahint the ha’ door, And there the beggar lay.


Up raise the guidman’s dochter, She raise to bar the door.

And there she saw the sturdy beggar Standin’ i’ the floor.

And we’ll gang nae mair, &o.

He took the lassie in his arms, And to the neuk he ran,

0 hooly, hooly wi’ me, sir, Ye’ll wauken our gudeman,


The beggar was a cunning loon, For ne’er a word he spak,

But kiss’d her there fu’ cadgielie. Syne he began to crack;


Is there ony dogs into the house, Sweet lassie tell me true ;

What is’t to you, although there were, My hinnie and my doo.


They’ll rive a’ my meal pocks, And do me mickle wrang;

The sorrow on your pawkie tricks, Are ye the beggar man ?

And we’ll gang nae mair, &e.


Then she took up his meal pocks, And flang them to the wa’;

The de’il gae wi’ the pocks, Your duddie rags and a’.


I took ye for some gentleman, Or else the Laird o’ Brodie;

O, dool be on you, gang your ways, Are ye the poor auld bodie ?


He took a horn up frae his side, And blew baith loud and shrill,

And four-and-twenty belted knights Cam’ trooping o’er the hill.


And he took out his little knife, Let a’ his duds down fa,’

And he stood the bravest gentleman That was amang them a’.


The beggar was a clever loon, And he lap shoulder height,

O, aye for siccan quarters As I got yesternight.

And we’ll gang nae mair, &c_

ANNIE LAURIE. Tenderly.

t.


S-A-

dew, And its there that An - nit there that An - nie

—

Lau - rie Gied

me her pro - raise true ;

J» (!_. Gied me ^ her pro - raise

true, Which ne’er for - - got shall be, And for

*—

i

4,

bon - nie An - nie Lau rie I’d lay me doun and dee.

Her brow is like the snaw-drift, Her neck is like the swan,

Her form it is the fairest That e’er the sun shone on—.

That e’er the sun shone on, And she has a dark blue e’e

And for bonnie Annie Laurie I’d lay me doun and dee.

Like gentle dew-drops falling, Alight her fairy feet;

And like winds in summer calling, Her voice is low and sweet—

Her voice is low and sweet, And she’s a’ the world to me ;

And for bonnie Annie Laurie I’d lay me doun and dee.


Lively* ►DAINTY DAYIE.

n-i»

Now ro - sy1 May comes in wi’ flow’rs, to deck her gay green

4.J. . [ ^ -J-

ing bow’rs, And now come in ♦my hap - ^ hours, spread To

z^m wan - der wi* my Da - - vie. The crys - tal wa - ters

1®~P-

round us fa’. The mer - ry birds are lo - - vers a’, The

scent - ed breez - - es round us blaw, A - - wan - - d’ring

OLTirt wi* my Da - vie. Meet me on the war - lock knowe,

Dain - ty Da - vie, dain - - ty Da - vie, There I’ll spend the

day wi’ you, My ain dear dain - - - ty Da - - vie.


When purple morning starts the hare, To steal upon her early fare, Then through the dews I will repair,

To meet my faithfu’ Davie. When day, expiring in the west, The curtain draws o’ Nature’s rest, I’ll flee to his arms I lo’e best,

And that’s my dainty Davie. Meet me on the warlock knowe, &c.

Moderate. TAM GLEN.

i=i§ ==z =z=i==j= <1—-J .J I J . — I - —

My heart is a break - ing dear tit - ty, Some coun - sel un-

to me come len’; To an - ger them a’ is a pi - ty, But

c> r what will I do wi’ Tam Glen ? I’m think - ing, wi’ sic a braw

£ fi 1 £ -v-

P

fal-low, In puir-tith I might mak* a fen’; What care I in /TN

rich-es to wal-low, If I maun-na mar - ry Tam Glen?


There s Lowrie, the Laird o’ Drunieller, Glide day to you, brute, he comes ben;

He brags and lie blaws o’ Ids siller, But when will he dance like Tam Glen ?

My minnie does constantly deave me, And bids me beware o’ young men;

They flatter, she says, to deceive me— But wha can think sae o’ Tam Glen ?

My daddie says, gin I’ll forsake him He’ll gie me guid hunder merks ten;

But, if its ordained I maun tak Mm, O, wha will I get but Tam Glen ?

Yestreen, at the Valentines' dealin’, My heart to my mou’ gied a sten;

For thrice I drew ane without failin'. And thrice it was written—Tam Glen.

The last Hallowe’en I was waukin’ My drookit sark-sleeve, as ye ken ;

His likeness cam up the house staukin’. And the very grey breeks o’ Tam Glen.

Come, counsel, dear tittie, don’t tarry : I’ll gie you my bonnie black hen,

Gif ye will advise me to marry The lad I lo’e dearly, Tam Glen.

WHEN THE KYE COME IIAME. With cheerfulness.


— vtoo a bon-ny las - sia when the kye come hame, When the kye come hame,

when the kye come hame, 'Tween the gloaming and the mirk, When the kye come hame. ’Tis not beneath the hurgonet, nor yet beneath the crown, ’Tis not on couch of velvet, nor yet on bed of down ; ’Tis beneath the spreading birch, in the dell without a name, Wi’ a bonny, bonny lassie, when the kye come hame.

When the kye, &c.

Then the eye shines so bright, the hale soul to beguile, There’s love in every •whisper, and joy in every smile; O! wha would choose a crown, wi’ its perils and its fame, And miss a bonny lassie when the kye come hame.

When the kye, &c.

See yonder pawky shepherd, that lingers on the hill, His ewes are in the fauld, and his lambs are lying still; But he downa gang to bed, for his heart is in a flame, To meet his bonny lassie when the kye come hame.

When the kye, Sec.

Awa’ wi’ fame and fortune: what comfort can they gie ? And a’ the arts that prey upon man’s life and liberty ! Gie me the highest joy that the heart of man can frame, My bonny, bonny lassie, when the kye come hame.

When the kye, &c.


OH! HEY, JOHNNIE, LAD. With feeling.

¥ ' d-Z v-*33Z: Oh! hey, John-nie lad, Ye’re no sae kind’s ye should hae 'been;

S » i Och! hey, John-nie lad, Ye did - na keep your tryste yes-treen. I

p-'-m—• B — — w.—2_j K

wait - ed long be - side the wood, Sae wae and wea - ry a* my lane ;

I I1

«—

Och! hey, John-nie lad, Ye did - na keep your tryste yes-treen.

I lookit by the whinny knowe, I lookit by the firs sae green;

I lookit o’er the spunky howe, And aye I thought ye wad hae been.

The ne’er a supper cross’d my craig, The ne’er a sleep has clos’d my e’en;

Och! hey, Johnnie, lad, It was a waefu’ night yestreen.

Gin ye were waiting by the wood, Then I was waiting by the thorn;

I thought it was the place we set, And waited maist till dawning morn.

But be na vex’d my bonny lassie, Let my waiting stand for thine;

We’ll awa’ to Craigton shaw, And seek the joys we tint yestreen.


JEANIE LEE. Moderately.

j»—V *

■»—« '/ /

O, who is she the vil-lage eyes Are e - ver fondly dwel-ling on ? O,

I

■who is she ilk fond youth tries With all his art to make his own ? Whose

♦ $ A/

smile’s the beam-ing sum-mer noon. Her voice the soul of me-lo - dy ? ’T. s

1

:x

she, my bo-som’s sa-cred boon, My bon-nie blue eyed Jean-ie Lee, My

fct- =—-h *

eyed Jeanie Lee, ’Bove all the earth thou’rt dear

2=E

bon-nie blue eyed Jeanie Lee, ’Bove all the earth thou’rt dear to me; May /TN

ne - ver guile be-dim the smile of bon-nie blue eyed Jean-ie Lee.

As violets show, at break o’ day, Their beauties thro’ a crystal veil,

So Jeanie’s e’en o’ blue pourtray A heart where heaven’s graces dwell.

The gowden locks play on her brow. Like sunbeams on a summer sea;

She has my heart, she has my vow, My bonnie blue eyed Jeanie Lee.

My bonnie, &c. I


THE BANKS OF THE DEVON.

•—If ax: bon - - ni - - est flow’r on the banks of the De - von, Was

£ £ -» ■■ |» £

sweet bud on the braes

-fe-

the Ayr.

Mild be the sun on this sweet blush - ing flow - er, In the -£■ 3CX

IE

gay ro - - sy morn as it

ax

bathes in -fsr

the dew; And

5:

gen - tie the fall of the soft ver - - nal show - er, That

steals on the ev’n - ing each leaf to re - new.


O spare the dear'blossom, ye orient breezes, With chill hoary wing as ye nsher the dawn!

And far be thou distant, thou reptile that seizes The verdure and pride of the garden and lawn!

Let Bourbon exult in her gay gilded lilies, And England triumphant display her proud rose;

A fairer than either adorns the green valleys, Where Devon, sweet Devon, meandering flows.

Pathetically. THE WAEFIT’ HEABT.

£

Gin liv - ing worth could win my heart, You

m

wou’d - na speak vain; But in the dark - some

grave it’s laid, Ne - - ver nse a - gain.

m • wae - - fu’ heart lies low wi’ his, Whose


Yet, oh ! gin heaven in mercy soon Wou’d grant the boon I crave,

And tak’ this life, now naething worth, Sin’ Jamie’s in his grave.

And see, his gentle spirit comes, To show me on my way !

Surpris’d, nae doubt, I still am here, Sair wond’ring at my stay.

“ I come, I come, my Jamie dear, And, oil ! with what gude-will,

I follow wharsoe’er ye lead : Ye canna lead to ill.”

She said, and soon a deadly pale Her faded cheek possest;

Her waefu' heart forgot to beat, Her sorrow sunk to rest.

With expression. MARY BAWN.

Las-sie wi’ the gow-den hair, Silk - en sneod, and face sae fair,

Las - sie 'wi* the yel - low hair, Think na to de - ceive me !

Las - sie wi’ the gow - den; hair, Flatt’ring smile and face sae fair.

Fare - ye - weel! for ne - ver mair John - nie will be - lieve ye!


r5—f- —i—i—r ia=i=

no ! Ma - ry Bawn, Ma - - ry Bawn, Ma - - ry Bawn,

m O no ! Ma - ry Bawn, ye’ll nae mair de - ceive me!

Smiling, twice ye made me trow, Twice, poor fool! I turn’d to woo. Twice, fause maid! ye brak your vow,

Now, I’ve sworn to leave ye! Twice, fause maid! ye brak your vow, Twice, poor fool! I’ve learn’d to rue, Come ye yet to mak me trow?

Thrice ye’ll ne’er deceive me! No, no! Mary Bawn, Mary Bawn, Mary Bawn, O no! Mary Bawn, thrice ye’ll ne’er deceive me!

Mary saw him turn to part, Deep his words sank in her heart; Soon the tears began to start,

Johnnie will ye leave me ? Soon the tears began to start, Grit and gritter grew her heart! Yet ae word before we part,

Love could ne’er deceive ye; O no! Johnnie Dow, Johnnie Dow, Johnnie Dow, O no! Johnnie Dow, love could ne’er deceive ye.

Johnnie took a parting keek, Saw the tears hap o’er her cheek! Bale she stood but couldna speak,

Mary’s cur’d o’ smiling. Johnnie took anither keek, Beauty’s rose has left her cheek! Pale she stands and canna speak!

This is nae beguiling. O no! Mary Bawn, Mary Bawn, Mary Bawn, No, no! Mary Bawn, love has nae beguiling.


P

Tenderly. DESPAIRING MARY.

&

Ma - ryf > why thus waste thy youth-time in sor - - row ?

i ZZ=tE See all a --round thee the flow’rs sweet-ly blaw;

Blythe sets the sun o’er the wild cliffs of Ju - - ra,

p • r □tua

Sweet sings the ^ma - - vis in il - ka green shaw.

•:* ♦ • P... £ Fm

How can this heart ne - ver mair think o’ plea - sure?

Sim - - mer may smile, but de - - - lights I hae nane;

• #

Cauld in the grave lies my heart’s dear - est trea - sure;

c/ Na - ture seems dead since my Ja - - mie is gane.


This ’kerchief he gave me, a true lover’s token, Dear, dear to me is the gift for his sake;

I wear’t near my heart, but this poor heart is broken : Hope died wi’ Jamie, and left it to break.

Sighing for him I lie down in the e’ening, Sighing for him I awake in the morn;

Spent are my days a’ in secret repining : Joy to this bosom can never return.

OH, WERT THOU IN,THE CAULD BLAST. Moderately.

Oh, wert thou in the cauld blast, On yon - der lea, on

3? yon - der lea, My pl^d - - ie to the an - - gry airt, I’d

♦ .♦T.* * 1;* ^

shel - ter thee, I’d shel - ter thee. Or did mis - for - - tune’s

9 9

bit - ter storms A - - round thee blaw, a - round thee blaw, Thy bield

jtffl r j jpjjjll should be my bo - - som, To share it a’, to share it a".


Or were I in the wildest waste, Sae black and bare, sae black and bare,

The desert were a paradise, If thou wert there, if thou wert there.

Or were I monarch o’ the globe, Wi’ thee to reign, wi’ thee to reign,

The brightest jewel in my crown Wad be my queen, wad be my queen.

ARGYLE IS MY NAME.

$ flat - ter - y I do dis - dain, In my se - cret thoughts nae

pP guile does re-main. My king and my coun - try’s faes I have fac’d,

- lv IV - —

i ci - - ty or bat - - tie I ne’er was dis - grac’d; I /TN

do ev’ - ry thing for my coun - try’s weal, And I’ll

FLOAVERS OF SCOTTISH MELODY. 141

I will quickly lay down my sword and my gun, An’ put my blue bonnet an’ my plaidie on, AVi’ my silk tartan hose, an’ leather-heeled shoon, An’ then I shall look like a sprightly loon. An’ when I’m sae dressed, frae tap to tae, To meet my dear Maggie I vow I will gae, Wi’ target an’ hanger hung down to my heel, An’ I’ll feast upon bannocks o’ barley meal.

I’ll buy a rich present to gie to my dear, A ribbon o’ green for my Maggie to wear, An’ mony thing brawer than that, I declare, Gin’ she will gang wi’ me to Paisley fair. An’ when we are married I’ll keep her a cow, An’ Maggie will milk when I gae at the plow. We’ll live a’ the winter on beef and lang kail, And we’ll feast upon bannocks o’ barley meal.

Gin Maggie should chance to bring me a son, He’s fight for his king as his daddy has done, We’ll hie him to Planders, some breeding to learn. An’ then hame to Scotland and get him a farm. An’ there we will live by our ain industrie. An’ wha’ll be sae happy’s my Maggie and me? We’ll a’ grow as fat as a Norawa seal, Wi’ our feasting on bannocks o’ barley meal.

Then, fare ye weel citizens, noisy men, Wha’ jolt in your coaches to Drury lane; Ye bucks o’ Bear-garden, I bid ye adieu, For drinking and swearing I leave it to you; I’m fairly resolved for a country life, An’ nae longer will live in hurry or strife; I’ll aff to the Highlands as hard’s I can reel, An’ I’ll whang at the bannocks o’ barley meal.

i42 FLOWERS OF SCOTTISH MELODY.

Slowly. SAW YE JOHNNIE COMIN’?

/7N

±e acne a—a

Saw ye John-nie com - in’ ? quo’ she; Saw ye John-nie com - in’ ?

I £ -w

O saw ye John - nie com - in' ? quo’ she; Saw ye John - nie ^T\

£ £ £5

com - in , Wi’ his blue bon - net on his head, And his

dog - gie rin - nin’ ? quo’ she. And his dog - gie rin - - nin’ ?

O ! fee him, faither, fee Mm, quo’ she, Fee him, faither, fee him;

O ! fee him, faither, fee him, quo’ she, Fee him, faither, fee him;

For O ! he is a gallant lad, And a weel doin’;

And a’ the wark about the house Gaes ivi’ me when I see him, quo’ she, Gaes wi’ me when I see him.

0 ! what will I do wi’ him, hizzie. What will I do wi’ him ?

He’s ne’er a sark upon his hack, And I hae nane to gi’e him.

1 hae twa sarks into my kist, And ane o’ them I’ll gi’e him;


And for a merk'o’ mair fee, Dinna stand wi’ him, quo’ she, Dinna stand wi’ him;

For weel do I lo’e him, quo’ she, Weel do I lo’e him;

For weel do I lo’e him, quo’ she, Weel do I lo’e him.

O fee him, faither, fee him, quo’ she, Fee him, faither, fee him;

He’ll hand the pleugh, thrash in the barn, And crack wi’ me at e’en, quo she. And crack wi’ me at e’en.

THOU HAST LEFT ME EVER, JAMIE Same air as foregoing.

Thou hasUleft 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’s left thy lass for ay— I maun see thee never, Jamie, I maun see thee never!

Thou hast me forsaken, Jamie! Thou hast me, forsaken;

Thou hast me forsaken, Jamie! Thou hast me forsaken.

Thou canst love another jo, While my heart is breaking-

Soon my weary e’en I’ll close. Never mair to waken, Jamie, Never mair to waken!


DONALD.

fond - - ly fa - vour’d you; - Ap - - pa - - rent worth and

me; But now the mask’s thrown off, I


O, then, for ever haste away, Away from love and me;

Go, seek a heart that’s like your own, And come no more to me, Donald.

Dor I’ll reserve myself alone Dor one that’s more like me;

If such a one I cannot find, I’ll fly from love and thee, Donald.

AULD EOB MOREIS.

She’s fresh as the morning, the fairest in May; She’s sweet as the ev’ning amang the new hay; As blythe and as artless as the lamb on the lea. And dear to my heart as the light to my e’e.


But oh! she’s an heiress, auld Robin’s a laird, And my daddie has nought but a cot-house and yard; A wooer like me mauna hope to come speed, The wounds I must hide that will soon be my dead.

The day comes to me, but delight brings me nane; The night comes to me, but my rest it is gane : I wander my lane, like a night-troubled ghaist, And I sigh as my heart it wad burst in my breast.

O, had she but been of a lower degree, I then might hae hop’d she wad smil’d upon me! O, how past describing had then been my bliss, As now my distraction no words can express!

With cheerfulness. THE BOATIE ROWS.

/7\

O, weel may the boa-tie row. And bet-ter may it speed; O,

3-

weel may the boa - tie row, That wins the bairns’ bread. The

£ * atzig

boa - tie rows, the boa - tie rows, The boa - tie rows fu’ wee!; And

mei - kle luck at - tend the boat, The mur - lin and the creel.


I coost my line in Largo Bay, And I caught fishes nine;

’Twas three to roast, and three to boil, And three to bait the line.

The boatie rows, the boatie rows, The boatie rows, indeed ;

And happy be the lot of a’ Who wishes her to speed.

0 ! weel may the hoatie row That fills a heavy creel,

And deads us a frae head to feet, And buys our pottage meal.

The boatie rows, the hoatie rows. The boatie rows, indeed;

And happy be the lot of a’ That wish the hoatie speed.

When Jamie vow’d he would be mine, And wan frae me my heart,

O! muckle lighter grew my creel, He swore we’d never part.

The boatie rows, the boatierrows, The boatie rows fu’ weel,

And nnlekle lighter is the load When love bears up the creel.

My kurtch I put upon my head, And dress’d mysel’ fu’ braw ;

1 trow my heart was an’ wae When Jamie gaed wa’:

But weel may the boa™ row, And lucky be her part;

And lightsome be the lassie’s care That yields an honest heart.

When Sawny, Jock, and Janetie, Are up, and gotten lear,

They’ll help to gar the boatie row, And lighten a’ our care.

The boatie rows, the boatie rows, The boatie rows fu’ weel;

And lightsome be the heart that bears The murlin and the creel.

148 FLOWERS OF SCOTTISH'MELODY.

Tenderly, THE LAND O’ THE LEAL.

4 a—* I’m wear-in’ a - - wa’, Jean, Like snaw-wreaths in thaw, Jean, I’m

• 4 ' 4‘- wear - in* To the land o’ the leal. There’s

~pr j . £ **. * * I - row there, Jean, There’s nei - ther cauld nor ** (Hire, Jean, The

jtZJE

i

day is aye fair I’ the land o’ the leal.

Our bonnie bairn’s there, Jean, She was baith good and fair, Jean, And, O! we grudged her sair

To the land o’ the leal. But sorrow’s sel’ wears past, Jean, And joy’s coming fast, Jean, A joy that’s ay to last

I’ the land o’ the leal.

Sac dear’s that joy was bought, Jean, Sae free the battle fought, Jean, That sinfu’ man e’er brought

To the land o’ the leal. O! dry your glistening e’e, Jean, My soul langs to be free, Jean, And angels wait on me

To the land o’ the leal.


O, haud ye leal and true, Jean, Your day its wearing thro’, Jean ; And I’ll welcome you

To the land o’ the leal. Now fare-ye-well, my ain Jean, This warld’s cares are vain, Jean; We’ll meet and we’ll be fain,

I’ the land o’ the leal.

WEEL MAY THE KEEL ROW. With animation.

Oh, who is like my John - ny, Sae leish, sae blithe, sae bon - nie ! lie’s

no _ nv TJool Inrle o* onn 1 _ v T’uno TTo’11 c<af or row c<j<» fore-most ’mang the mo - ny Keel lads o’ coal - y Tyne. He’ll set or row sae

tight-ly, Or, in the dance sae spright - ly. He’ll cut and shut - fle rT\

sight-ly, ’Tis true, were he not mine. Weel may the keel row, the

keel row, the keel row, Weel may the keel row that my lad’s in. K


He has nae mair o’ learning, Than tells his weekly earning ; Yet right frae wrang discerning,

Tho’ brave, nae bruiser he. Tho’ he no’ worth a plack is, His ain coat on his back is; And nane can say that black is

The white o’ Johnny’s e’e. Weel may the keel row, &c.

As I came thro’ Sandgate, Thro’ Sandgate, thro’ Sandgate, As I came thro’ Sandgate,

I heard a lassie sing— Weel may the keel row, The keel row, the keel row, Weel may the keel row

That my lad’s in. Weel may the keel row, &c.

He wears a blue bonnet, Blue bonnet, blue bonnet, He wears a blue bonnet,

A dimple’s in his chin; And weel may the keel row, The keel row, the keel row, And weel may the keel row,

That my lad’s in. Weel may the keel row. Sec.

AULD LANGSYKE. Moderately.

Should auld ac - quain-tance be for-got and ne - ver brought to


P

£ WJZ

" h-j-

p

mind; Should auld ac-quain-tance be for - got, And days o’ lang - syne ? Chorut. -

yne, my dear, For For auld lang - sy

P

auld lang - syne; We’ll

^5=

tak' cup kind - ness yet, For auld lang - - syne.

And surely ye’U be your pint stoup! As surely I’ll be mine!

And we’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet, For auld langsyne.

For auld, &c.

We twa bae run about the braes, And pou’d the gowans fine;

But we’ve wander’d mony a weary foot, Sin’ auld langsyne.

For auld, &c.

We twa hae paidl’t in the burn Frae morning sun till dine;

But seas between us braid hae roar’d Sin’ auld langsyne

t For auld, &c.

And there’s a hand, my trusty friend, And gies a hand o’ thine;

And we’ll tak’ a right gude willy-waught, For auld langsyne.

For auld, &c.


BIDE YE, BILLY, O BIDE YE YET.

f§3 *7/7 yj C* ® ^ , ay be can - ty wi* think - ing o’t. I’ve li - kit the ; - es these

^ thir - ty years. Though sair - ly plagu'd wi' the clort - ing o’t; But

=£=f^ v a :*•

r'—n—V—*—P • • . i • w w

still for a’ their jim - mers and jeers, I sing this bit song o’ ~the

Tv=?v 5V «> *

court - ing o’t. O bide ye, Bil - ly, O bide ye yet, Ye

ken nae what may be - tide me yet; Some bon nie wee bo - dy may

be my lot, An’ I’ll ay be can - ty wi’ think-ing o’t.

FLOWERS OF SCOTTISH MELODY. i53

Could I get a lass wi’ a tocher good, An’ bonnie blue e’en for the blinking o’t,

0, how it wad dirle my auld heart’s blood, An’ I’ll ay be canty at thinking o’t!

Coming at morn, or coming at e’en, To cleanly cot an’ the lady o’t.

An’ a wee bit bairnie out on the green, Crying papa to the daddy o’t.

Then bide ye, Billy, &c.

A HIGHLAND LADDIE HEARD OF WAR. 'Moderately.

A — At

V "* ^ A High - land lad - die heard of war, Which set his heart in

mo - tion; He heard the dis - tant can - non roar, He


He wander’d east, he wander’d south, But joy he could not find it;

But he found out this wholesome truth, And had the sense to mind it:

Of a’ the earth, the bonnie norlh To cherish late and early ;

Loch Lomond ben, and the willow glen, And Jenny, that loved him dearly.

Sprightly. TULLOCHGORUM.

Come, gi’es a sang, Montgomery cried, And lay your disputes a’ aside ; What

£ £

non-sense ’tis for folks to chide, For what’s been done be - fore them.

EES Let Whig and To - ry all a - gree, Whig and To - ry, Whig and To-ry,

Whig and To-ry all a - gree, To drop their Whig - meg-mo-rum. Let

si Whig and To - ry all a - gree And spend this night with mirth and glee, And

cheer-ful sing a-long wi* me The reel of Tul - loch - go - rum.


Tullochgorum’s my delight, It gars us a’ in aue unite, And ony sumph that keeps up spite,

In conscience I abhor him. Blythe and merry we’s be a’, Blythe and merry, blythe and merry, Blythe and merry we’s be a’,

And make a cheerfu’ quorum. Blythe and merry we’s be a’, As lang as we hae breath to draw, And dance, till we be like to fa’,

The reel of Tullochgorum.

There needs na be sae great a phraise, Wi’ dringing dull Italian lays ; I wadna gie our ain strathspeys

For hauf a hunder score o’ cm. They’re douff and dowie at the best, Douff and dowie, doulf and dowie, They’re douif and dowie at the best,

Wi’ a’ their variorum. They’re doff and dowie at the best, Their allegros, and a’ the rest: They caima please a Highland taste,

Compared wi’ Tullochgorum.

Let warldly minds themselves oppress, Wi’ fear of want and double cess, And silly sauls themselves distress,

Wi’ keeping up decorum. Shall we sae sour and sulky sit, Sour and sulk}', sour and sulky, Shall we sae sour and sulky sit,

Like auld Philosophorum ? Shall we sae sour and sulky sit, Wi’ neither sense, nor mirth, nor wit, And canna rise to shake a fit

To the reel of Tullochgorum ?

May choicest blessings still attend Each open-hearted, honest friend, And calm and quiet be his end,

And a’ that’s good watch o’er him.


May peace and plenty be his lot. Peace and plenty, peace and plenty, May peace and plenty be his lot,

And dainties a great store o’ em : May peace and plenty be his lot, Unstain’d by any viscious blot, And may he never want a groat,

That’s fond of Tullochgorum!

But for the discontented fool. Who wants to be oppression’s tool, May envy gnaw his rotten soul,

And discontent devour him! May dool and sorrow be his chance, Dool and sorrow, dool and sorrow, May dool andtsorrow be his chance,

And honest souls abhor him : May dool and sorrow be his chance, And a’ the ills that come frae Prance, Whae’er he be that winna dance

The reel of Tullochgorum !

CAM’ YE BY ATHOL? With energy.

£

Cara’ ye by A - - thol, lad wi’ the phi - - la - - beg,

is .

Down by the Turn - mel, or banks o’ the Gar - - ry ?

it Saw ye the lad wi* his bon - * net and tar - tan plaid.


Leav - ing his moun - tains to fol - low Prince Char - lie ?

I»ZJE

7—F Fol - low thee, fol - low thee, wha wad - na fol - low thee ?

Lang hast‘d thou lo’ed and trust - ed /VI

fair - - - ly.

? i 7^

Char - lie, Char - - lie, wha wad - - na fol - - low thee.

*

Plrnf? \ '

the High - land hearts, bon - nie Prince Char - lie?

I hae but ae son, nay brave young Donald; But if I had ten they should follow Glengarry.

Health to M‘Donald, and gallant Clan Ronald, Dor these are the men that will die for their Charlie !

Follow thee, Sec.

I’ll to Lochiel and Appin, and kneel to them; Down by Lord Murray, and Roy o’ Kildarlie ;

Brave Mackintosh, he shall fly to the field with them : They are the lads I can trust wi’ my Charlie.

Follow thee, &c. Down thro’ the lowlands, down wi’ the Whigamore,

Loyal true Highlanders, down with them rarely ; Ronald and Donald, drive on wi’ the broad claymore,

Over the necks o’ the foes o’ Prince Charlie. Follow thee, &c.


may - be re - - turn to Loch - - a - - ber no more. These


Tho’ hurricanes rise, and raise ev’ry wind, They’ll ne’er make a tempest like that in my mind ; Tho’ loudest of thunders on louder waves roar, That’s naething like leaving my love on the shore. To leave thee behind me, my heart is sair pain’d ; But by ease so inglorious no fame can be gained; And beauty and love’s the reward of the brave : And I maun deserve it before I can crave. Then glory, my Jeany, maun plead my excuse : Since honour commands me, how can I refuse ? Without it, I ne’er can have merit for thee; And losing thy favour, I’d better not be. I gae, then, my lass, to win glory and fame ; And if I should chance to come gloriously hame, I’ll bring a heart to thee with love running o’er, And then I’ll leave thee and Lochaber no more.

Lively. THE FLOWERS OF EDINBURGH.

iSE

Here is the glen, and here the bow’r, All un - der - neath the

35= S5-

5 §3=4

birch - en shade ; The vil.s.l bell has toll’d the hour: O, -A-

not Ma - - ri - - a’s #*

P

but the balm - - y bream - ing gate. Mixt .0\

whis - p’ring call; ’Tis

with some warbler’s dy - ing fail. The dew - y star of eve to hail.


It is Maria’s voice I hear! So calls the woodlark in the grove,

His little faithful mate to cheer: At once ’tis music, and ’tis love!

And thou art come, and art thou true! O! welcome dear to love and me!

And let us all our vows renew, Along the flowery banks of Cree.

Briskly. JOHNNIE COrR

s t ♦_ » ♦ W

m m- •

Sir John Cope trode the north right far, Yet ne’er a re - - bel

drums do beat; O, fle, Cope, rise in the morn - ing.


When Charlie looked the letter on, He drew his sword the scabbard from— Come follow me, my merry men,

To meet Johnnie Cope in the morning. Hey, Johnnie Cope, are ye waking yet ? Or are your drums a beating yet ? Wi’ claymore sharp and music sweet,

We’ll mak’ ye mirth i’ the morning.

Atween the gray day and the sun, The Highland pipes came skirling on; Now, fie, Johnnie Cope, get up and run,

’Twill be a bloody morning. O yon is the warpipe’s deadly strum, It quells our pipe and drouns our drum; The bonnets blue and broadswords come—

’Twill be a bloody morning.

Now, Johnnie Cope, be as good’s your word, And try your fate wi’ fire and sword, And tak na wing like a frighten’d bird,

That’s chas’d frae its nest in the morning. The war-pipes gave a wilder screed, The clans came down wi’ wicked speed ; He laid his leg out o’er a steed—

I wish you a good morning.

Moist wi’ his fear and spurring fast, An auld man speered as Johnnie past: How speeds it wi’ your gallant host ?

I trow they’ve got their corning. I faith, quo Johnnie, I got a fleg Frae the claymore and philabeg; If I face them again, Deil break my leg—-

So I wish you a good morning.


HOW WEEL, MY BOATIE, ROW WEEL. With feeling.

-£y.-i n -Jt it

Row weel, my boa * tie, row weel, Row weel, my mer-ry men /7\

tVT

a’; For there’s dule and there’s wae in Glen - flor - ich’s bow’rs, And there’s

low.


Lively.

=*3

/ U i; ^

THE BONNIE BREAST-KNOTS.

I £

Hey the bon - niej^ ho, the bon - nie ! hey, the bon - nie breast-knots ! Urn

5---P

Blythe and mer - ry were they a’, When they put on their breast-knots. There

£

Blythe and mer - ry were they a’, When they put on the breast - knots.

At nine o’clock, the lads convene, Some clad in blue and some in green, Wi’ shining buckles in their sheen,

And flowers upon their waistcoats. Out came the wives a’ wi’ a phraise, And wished the lassie happy days; And muckle thought they o’ her claes.

Especially the breast-knots. Singing, hey, the bonnie, &c.


The bride she was baith young and fair, Her neck outshone her pearlings rare, A satin snood about her hair,

And flowers among the breast-knots. The bridegroom gazed, but maist, I wreen, He prized the glance of love’s blue e’en. That made him proud o’ his sweet Jean,

When she’d got on the breast-knots. Singing, hey, the bonnie, &c.

THE LAST TIME I CAM’ OWEE THE MUIR. Tenderly.

i ©.

*7 -«

The last time I cam’ owre the muir, I left my love be-

g:

hind me; Ye pow’rs! what pains do I en - - dure, When

-p.———Zrir • *

soft i - - - de - - - as mind me. Soon

P

as the rud--dy iVi

morn dis-play’d. The beam-ing day en - - su-ing, ■: I met

EL

■^N

it*: o=t=^--tg

be-times my love - ly maid, In fit re - - treats for woo-ing.

FLOWERS OF SCOTTISH MELODY. 1G5

We stray’d beside yon wand’ring stream, And talk’d with hearts o’erflowing,

Until the sun’s fast setting beam Was in the ocean glowing.

I pitied all beneath the skies. Even kings, when she was nigh me ;

In raptures I beheld her eyes, Which could but ill deny me.

Should I be call’d where cannon’s roar, Where mortal steel may wound me;

Or cast upon some foreign shore, Where dangers may surround me:

Yet hopes again to see my love— To feast on glowing kisses,

Shall make my cares at distance move, In prospect of such blisses.

In all my soul there’s not one place To let a rival enter;

Since she excels in ev’ry grace, In her my love shall centre.

Sooner the seas shall cease to flow, Their waves the Alps shall cover;

On Greenland’s ice shall roses grow. Before I cease to love her.

The neist time I gang owre the muir. She shall a lover find me;

And that my faith is firm and pure, Though I left her behind me.

Then Hymen’s sacred bonds shall chain My heart to her fair bosom;

There, while my being does remain, My love more fresh shall blossom.

L

\G6

"Lively.


TUB FAIR MAID CF PERTH.

s; te-

cried, “ Take this rose from the fair maid of Terth


I told her I loved her sincerely ; and then I promised at moonlight to meet her again. And we met where the hurnies all silently glide. And I told her I’d make her my ain bonnie bride ; And my vow I will keep, for beauty and worth Are mine, if I marry the fair maid of Perth.

Moderately. MY TOCHER’S THE JEWEL.

ken brawlie My toch-er’s the jew - el . has charms for him.

It’s a’ for the ap - pie he’ll nour-ish the tree; It’sa* for .r the

hon - ey he’ll cher - ish the bee; My lad - die’s sae it*mei -4tle in

love wi’ the sil - ler. He can - na hae love to spare for me


Your proffer o’ love’s an airle-penny, My tocher’s the bargain ye wad buy;

But an’ ye be crafty, I am cunning: Sae ye wi’ anitber your fortune maun try.

Ye’re like to the timmer o’ yon rotten wood. Ye’re like to the bark o’ yon rotten tree ;

Ye’ll slip frae me like a knotless thread,- And ye’ll crack your credit wi’ mair nor me.

With spirit. THE GATHERING OF THE CLANS.

53

There’s news come o - - ver the *■ High - lands yes. -• treen, Will

m £

fcziz soon gar bon-nets and broad-swords keen, And phil - a - begs short, and

15= rrrsr.

tar - tans green, Shine o - ver the shore in the morn - ing. He •* • _ _ . N

£ M / /.

comes, he comes, our spi-rits to cheer, To chcr-ish the land he /T\ K

holds so dear, To ban - ish the rea - ver, the base de - cei - ver, And

-W f lizzie

raise the fame of the clans for e - ver. Our prince is land-ed in

FLOWERS OE SCOTTISH MELODY. 169

§ injc :t=k

Moi - dart bay : Come raise the cla - mour of bag - pipes’ ya -

5 mour, And join your loved prince in the morn - ing.

Come, brave Lochiel, the honour be thine The first in loyal array to shine; If bold Clan-Ronald and thee combine,

Then who dare remain in the morning ? Glengarry will stand with arm of steel, And Keppoch is blood from head to heel. The whiggers of Sky may gang to the deil, When Connal and Donald, and gallant Clan-Ronald, Are all in the field, and know not to yield: Are all in array, and hasting away,

To welcome their prince in the morning. The Appin will come, while coming is good; The stern MTntosh is of trusty blood ; M‘Kenzie and Frazer will come at their leisure,

The whiggers of Sutherland scorning ; The Athol men, keen as fire from steel; M‘Pherson for Charlie will battle the deil; The hardy clan Dunnoch is up in the Runnoch ; M‘Clean and M‘Gregor are rising with vigour, Unawed by the pride of haughty Argyle ; And lordly Drummond is belted and coming.

To join his loved prince in the morning. Come a’ that are true men, steel to the bane ; Come a’ that reflect on the days that are gane ; Come a’ that have breeks, and a’ that have nane,

An’ a’ that are bred unto scorning ; Come Moidart and Moy, M'Gun and M'Craw, M'Dougalds, M'Donalds, M'Devils, an’ a'; M‘Duffs and M‘Dumpies, M'Leods and M'Lumpies, With claymores gleaming, and standards streaming, Come swift as the roe, for weal or for woe; That wliigs in their error, may cpiake for terror,

To see our array in the morning.

iro FLOWERS OF SCOTTISH MELODY.

THE LASS OF PATIE’S MILL. With expression.

gay, In spite of all my skill, - - She

Her arms, white, round, and smooth, Breasts rising in their down ;

To age it would give youth, To press them with his hand. Thro’ all my spirits ran.

An extacy of bliss. When I such sweetness find,

Wrapt in a balmy kiss.

Without the aid of art, Like flow'r’s that grace the wild.

She did her sweets impart, Whene’er she spoke or smil’d.


Her looks, they were so mild, Free from affected pride,

She me to love beguil’d: I wish’d her for my bride.

O ! had I all the wealth, Hopetouns high mountains fill,

Insur’d long life and health, And pleasure at my will: I’d promise and fulfil.

That none but bonnie she, The lass of Patie’s mill.

Should share the same with me.

Tenderly. MY LOVE’S IN GERMANY.

&=i*=K t=w-

My love’s in Ger-man-y, Send him hame, send him hame; O, my

i love’s In Ger-man-y, Send him hame. My love’s in Ger-man-y, Fight-


He’s brave as brave can be: Send him hame, send him hame; He’s brave as brave can be :

Send him hame. He’s brave as brave can be : He wad rather fa’ than flee; But his life is dear to me : Send him hame, send him ham But his life is dear to me :

Send him hame.

x He’ll ne’er come o’er the sea, Willie’s slain, Willie’s slain; He’ll ne’er come o’er the sea,

Willie’s gane. He’ll ne’er come o’er the sea. Toxins love and ain countrie : 0,'this warld’s nae mair for me! Willie’s gane, Willie’s gane; O, this warld’s nae mair for me!

Willie's slain.

O, TIBBIE, I HAE SEEN THE DAY. Moderately.

0 * • ••

O, Tib - bie, I hae seen the day Ye wad - na been sae shy. For

i

lack o' gear, ye light - ly me; But troth I care na by.

Yes-trccn I met you on the moor, Ye spak* na, but gaid by like stoure. Ye


57=&-:

geek at me, be-cause I'm poor; But ■faint hair care

I doubt na, lass, but ye may think, Because ye hae the name o’ clink. That ye can please me at a wink.

Whene’er ye like to try. O, Tibbie, &c.

But sorrow tak’ him that’s sae mean, Although his pouch o’ coin were clean, Wha follows any saucy quean,

That looks sae proud and high. 0, Tibbie, &c.

Although a lad were e’er sae smart, If that he want the yellow dirt, Ye’ll cast your head anither airt,

And answer him fu’ dry. O, Tibbie, &c.

But if-he hae the name o’ gear, Ye’ll fasten to him like a brier, Tho’ hardly he for sense or lear

Be better than the kye. O, Tibbie, &c.

But, Tibbie, lass, tak’ my advice. Your daddie’s gear makes you sae nice; The deil a one wad speir your price.

Were ye as poor as I. O, Tibbie, &c.

There lives a lass in yonder park, I wad na gie her in her sark For thee, wi’ a’ thy thousand mark :

Ye need na look sae high. O, Tibbie, &e.


WHA WADNA FIGHT FOR CHARLIE ?

Think on Sco-tia’s an-cient he - roes ; Think on for-eign foes re-pell’d;

fczK

f m

Think on glo-rious Bruce and Wal-lace, Wha the proud u - surp - ers quell'd.

Wha wadna, &c. Rouse, rouse, ye kilted warriors !

Rouse, ye heroes of the north ! Rouse and join your chieftain’s banners,—

Tis your prince that leads you forth.

Wha wadna, &e. Shall we basely crouch to tyrants ?

Shall we own a foreign sway ? Shall a royal Stuart be banish’d,

While a stranger rules the day ?

Wha wadna, &c. See the northern clans advancing!

See Glengary and Lochiel! See the brandish’d broad-swords glancing!

Highland hearts are true as steel.


Wha wadna, &c. Now our prince has rear’d his banner;

Now triumphant is our cause; Now the Scottish lion rallies :

Let us strike for prince and laws.

AND THIS IS NAE MY AIN HOUSE. Lively.

£

And this is nae my ain house, I ken by the big-ging o’t; Since

fs P>r tt

with my love I chang’d vows, I din - na like the big - ging o’t.

Up ¥ For now that I’m young Ro - bie’s bride, And mis-tress of his fire-side, Mine

ain house I’ll like to guide, And please me with the trig-ging o’t.

Then farewell to my father’s house : I’ll gang where love invites me ;

The strictest duty this allows, When love with honour meets me.

When Hymen moulds us into ane. My Robie’s nearer than my kin; And to refuse him were a sin,

Sae lang’s he kindly treats me.


When I’m in my ain house. True love shall be at hand aye,

To mak’ me still a prudent spouse, And let my man command aye ;

Avoiding every cause of strife. The common pest of married life, That makes man wearied of his wife,

And breaks the kindly band, aye.

THE BROOM O’ OOWDENKNOWES.

FLOWERS OF SCOTTISH MELODT. 177

I neither wanted ewe nor lamb, While his flock near me lay;

He gather’d in my sheep at night, And cheer’d me a’ the day.

O, the broom, &c.

He tun d his pipe and reed sae sweet, The birds stood list’ning by;

E’en the dull cattle stood and gaz’d, Charm’d with his melody.

O, the broom, &c.

While thus we spent our time, by turns, Betwixt our flocks and play,

I envy’d not the fairest dame, Tho’ ne’er sae rich and gay.

O, the broom, &c.

Hard fate that I should banish’d be, Gang heavily and mourn,

Because I lo’ed the kindest swain That ever yet was born.

O, the broom, &c.

He did oblige me every hour: Cou’d I but faithful be?

He staw my heart: cou’d I refuse Whate’er he ask’d of me?

O, the broom, &c.

My doggie, and my little kit, That held my wee soup whey,

My plaidy, brooch, and crooked stick. May now lie useless by.

O, the broom, &c.

Adieu, ye Cowdenknowes, adieu ! Farewell, a’ pleasures there;

Ye gods! restore to me my swain . Is a’ I crave or care.

O, the broom, &c.


YOUNG PEGGY BLOOMS, OUR BONNIEST LASS. With animation.

£ H # §E

Young Peg - gy blooms, our bon-niest lass, Her blush is like the

morn-ing, When ro - sy dawn the spring - ing grass, With ear - ly

* ft!.®, t^=

gems a - - dorn - ing. Her eyes out - shine the ra - dient beams, That /'-i

crys - - tal streams. And cheer each fresh - ’ning flow - - er.

Her lips, more than the cherries bright, A richer dye has graced them,

To charm the admiring gazer’s sight, And sweetly tempt to taste them.

Her smile is as the evening mild, When feath’red pairs are courting,

And little lambkins wanton wild, In playful bauds disporting.

Were fortune lovely Peggy’s foe, Such sweetness would relent her:

As blooming spring unbends the brow Of surly, savage winter.


Detraction’s eye no aim can gain, Her winning powers to lessen ;

And fretful envy grins in vain, The poison’d tooth to fasten.

Ye pow’rs of honour, love, and truth From every ill defend her ;

Inspire the highly favour’d youth The destinies intend her;

Still fan the sweet connubial flame, Responsive in each bosom;

And bless the dear paternal name, With many a filial blossom.

Sprightly. MY AIM KIND DEARIE, O

- i - '

Will ye gang o’er the lea - rig, My ain kind


There’s wealth o’er yon green lea-rig, My ain kind dearie, 0;

There’s wealth o’er yon green lea-rig, My ain kind dearie, O.

It’s neither land, nor goud, nor braws: Let them gang tapsalteerie, O ;

It’s walth o’ peace, o’ love, and truth, My ain kind dearie, O.

Slowly. AY WALKIN’, 01

When I sleep I dream ; When I wank I’m e’erie;

Best I canna get. For thinking on my dearie.

Ay wankin’, O! Waukin’ ay and wearie;

Come, come, blissful dream, Bring me to my dearie.

FLOWERS OF SCOTTISH MELODY. !81

Darksome night comes down, A’ the lave are sleepin’

I think on my kind lad, And blin’ my e’en wi’ greetin’.

Ay wankin’, O! Wankin’ ay and wearie;

Hope is sweet but ne’er Sae sweet as thee, my dearie.

CA’ THE EWES TO THE KNOWES. Tenderly.

is w:r Ca* the ewes to the knowes, Ca’ them whar’ the hea-ther grows,

/T\

- me dear - ie. Ca* them whar* the bur - nie rows, My bon As

.N ♦ L". ;

$

I g-a’ed down the wa - ter side, There I met my shep-herd lad, He Da Capo.

T row’d me sweet-ly in his plaid, And ca’d me his dear -

Will ye gang down the water side, And see the waves sae gently glide. Beneath the hazels spreading wide?

The moon it shines fu’ clearly.


Ye shall get gowns and ribbons meet, Cauf leather shoon to thy white feet, And in my arms ye’se lie and sleep ;

And ye shall be my dearie.

If ye’ll but stand to what ye’ve said, I'll gang wi’ you my shepherd lad; And ye may rowe me in your plaid,

And I shall be your dearie.

While waters wimple to the sea, While day blinks in the lift sae hie, Till clay-cauld death shall blin’ my e’e.

Ye shall be my dearie.

IVith expression. ROBIN ADAIR.

£

What’s this dull town to me ? Ro - - bin’s not near !

What was’t I wish’d to see? What wish’d to hear ?

I

4—h

I

Where’s all the joy and mirth, made this town a heav’n on earth?

—1=-

Oh ! they’re all with thee, Ro - bin A • dair.


What made th’ assembly shine ? -Robin Adair.

What made the ball so fine ? Robin was there.

What, when the play was o’re, What made my heart so sore ? Oh! it was parting with

Robin Adair.

But now thou’rt cold to me, Robin Adair—

But now thou’rt cold to me, Robin Adair;

Yet him I lov’d so well, Still in my heart shall dwell; Oh! I can ne’er forget

Robin Adair.

Moderately. MY WIFE HAS TA’EN THE GEE.

^—E

A friend o’ mine came here yestreen, And he wad hae me down, To

drink a pot of ale wi’ him, In the neist bo-rough town. But

oh! a - lake ! it was the waur, And sair the waur for me; For

: j - ill x~~K~ ”

lang or e’er that I came hame. My wife had ta’en the gee.


We sat sae late, and drank sae stout,— The truth I’ll tell to you,—

That lang or ever midnight came, We were a’ roaring fu’.

My wife sits by the fireside, And the tear blinds ay her e’e;

The ne’er a bed will she gae to, But sit and tak’ the gee.

In the morning soon when I came doun, The ne’er a word she spak’;

But mony a sad and sour look And ay her head she’d shake,

“My dear,” quo’ I, “what aileth thee, To look sae sour at me ?

I’ll never do the like again, If ye’ll ne’er tak’ the gee.”

When that she heard, she ran, she flang Her arms about my neck,

And twenty kisses in a crack; And poor wee thing she grat.

“ If you’ll ne’er do the like again, But stay at hame wi’ me,

I’ll lay my life I’se be the wife, That’s never tak’ the gee.”

AN’ THOU WERT MY AIN THING. Tenderly.


The gods one thing peculiar have, To ruin none whom they can save; Then, for,their sake, support a slave,

Who‘only lives to love thee. An’ thou wert, &c.

To merit I no claim can make, But that I love; and, for your sake, AVhat man can name I’ll undertake,

So dearly do I love thee. An’ thou wert, &c.

My passion, stronger than the sun, Flames stronger still, will ne’er have done. Till fate my thread of life has spun.

Which breathing out I’ll love thee. An’ thou wert, &c.

186 FLOWEItS OF SCOTTISH ALELODV.

DRAW THE SWORD, SCOTLAND! Briskly.

Draw the sword, Scotland! Scotland! Scotland! O - ver moor & mountain hath

-n- ^ ^ ; j

past the war sign : The pi-broch is peal - ing ! peal - ing! peal-ing! Who /T\


Sheath the sword, Scotland ! Scotland ! Scotland ! Sheath the sword, Scotland! for dimm’d is its shine: Thy foemen are fleeing I fleeing ! fleeing! And who kens nae mercy is nae son o’ thine. The struggle is over! over ! over ! The struggle is over! the victory won ! There are tears for the fallen ! the fallen ! the fallen! And glory for all who their duty have done. Sheath the sword, Scotland! Scotland ! Scotland! With thy lov’d thistle new laurels entwine ; Time ne’er shall part them ! part them ! part them ! But hand down the garland to each son o’ thine.

THE YEAK THAT’S AW A’.

Here’s to the soldier who bled, To the sailor who bravely did fa’!

Their fame is alive, though their spirits are fled On the wings of the year that’s awa’.

% Their fame, &c.


Here s to the friend we can trust. When the storms of adversity blaw !

May he join in our song, and be nearest our hearts. Nor depart like the year that’s awa’l

May he, &c.

Briskly. CONTENTED WT LITTLE.

I it

Con - tent - ed wi’ lit - tlo and can - tie wi* mair, When

e’er I for - - ga - ther wi’ sor - row and care;

ant £ N ^

gie them a skelp, as they’re creep - in’ a - - lang, Wi’ a

£ £

cog o’ guid swats, and an auld Scot - tish sang.

m 7^^

whiles claw the el - - bow o’ trou - - ble - some thought; But

^—ii-

man is sod - ger, and life is a fraught; But


a=p:

is- mirth and guid hu - mour are coin in my pouch, And my

m free - dom’s a laird - ship nae mo - narch dare touch.

A towmond o’ trouble, should that be my fa’, A night o’ guid fellowship sowthers it a’; When at the blythe end o’ our journey at last, Wha the deil ever thinks o’ the road he has past ? Blind chance, let her snapper and stoyte on her way ; Be’t to me, be’t frae me, e’en let the jade gae ; Come ease or come travail, come pleasure or pain. My warst word is—“ Welcome, and welcome again I”

With spirit. CALEDONIANS, BRAVE AND BOLD.

S3

3 Ca - le - do-nians, brave and bold! He - roes, ne - ver bought or sold !

3 ?!

Sons of sires, who died of old, To gild a mar - tial sto - ry !

3E z£k

Beau - ty claims the war-rior’s shield;, In her cause the death-sword wield;

teg m

Draw, and join the bat - tie field ! On, on, to death or glo - ry !


Who would shun the glorious strife ? Where’s the slave would cling to life, When father, husband, daughter, wife,

For prompt relief implore ye ? Who would yield soft woman’s charms, To bless a ruffian foeman’s arms ? Perish the thought! sound your alarms!

On, on, to deatli or glory !

Here’s the path to sluggard peace, Here’s the haunt of dastard ease, That sinks to death by slow degrees,

Unhonoured, weak, and hoary; But ye, who court a brighter name, This way lies the road to fame ! Follow, then, through flood and flame,

And shout for death or glory !

THE LAMENT OF FLORA MACDONALD. With feeling.

At □9:

Far o - ver yon hills of the hea-ther so green. And down by the

cor-rie that sings to the sea, The bon - nie young Flo - ra sat

sigh-ing her lane, The dew on her plaid, and the tear in her e’e.

She look'd at a' boat, with the breez - es that swung, • A-


pll £ T ^ way on the wave, like a bird of the main; And, aye as it

m H

=r les-sen'd, she sigh’d and she sung. Fare - weel to the lad I shall

The muircock that craws on the brow of Ben-Connal, He kens o’ his bed in a sweet mossy hame;

The eagle that soars o’er the cliffs of Clan-Ronald, Unaw’d and unhunted, his eiry can claim;

The solon can sleep on his shelve of the shore, The cormorant roost on the rock of the sea ;

But oh! there is one whose hard fate I deplore : Nor house, ha, nor hame in this country has he.

The conflict is past, and our name is no more : There’s nought left but sorrow for Scotland and me !

* The target is torn from the arm of the just,

The helmet is cleft on the brow of the brave, The claymore for ever in darkness must rust;

But red is the sword of the stranger and slave. The hoof of the horse, and the plume of the proud,

Have trode o’er the plumes on the bonnet of blue. Why slept the red bolt in the breast of the cloud,

When tyranny revell’d in blood of the true ? Farewell, my young hero ! the gallant and good !

The crown of thy fathers is torn from thy brow.

192 FLOWERS OF .SCOTTISH MELODY.

HERE’S A HEALTH TO THEM THAT’S AW A’ Moderately,

mE$±ld£ ±± « - »l-#—

*-/i.

P

Here’s a health to them that’s a - wa\ Who are gone to war’s fa - tal /T\

plain; Here’s a health to them that were here t’o-ther day, But who /7\

ne’er may be with us

Is

ne’er may be with us a - gain, oh, ne-ver! ’Tis hard to be

V ^ N A * •

y=i part-ed from those, With whom we for e - ver could dwell; But /T\

EEE « •-

bit - ter, in - deed, is the sor-ro\v< that flows, When per-

: r.. — „ n haps we are say - ing fare - well, for e - - ver! Da Capo.

Tho’ those whom we tenderly love. Our tears at this moment may claim ;

A balm to our sorrows this truth sure must prove. They’ll live in the records of fame—for ever!

HliNDEUSON, PRINTER, CASTLE-PLACK, BELFAST.

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