Bannocks o' bear-meal,
Bannocks o' barley;

Here's to the Highlandman's
Bannocks o' barley!
Wha, in his wae-days,
Were loyal to Charlie?
Wha but the lads wi'
The bannocks o' barley?

SAE FAR AWA'.

Tune-"Dalkeith Maiden Bridge."

OH, sad and heavy should I part,
But for her sake sae far awa'
Unknowing what my way may thwart,
My native land, sae far awa'.
Thou that of a' things Maker art,
That form'd this fair sae far awa',
Gie body strength, then I'll ne'er start
At this, my way, sae far awa'.

How true is love to pure desert,
So love to her sae far awa':

And nocht can heal my bosom's smart
While, oh! she is sae far awa'.
Nane other love, nane other dart,
I feel but hers, sae far awa';
But fairer never touch'd a heart
Than hers, the fair, sae far awa'.

HER FLOWING LOCKS.

Tune-Unknown.

HER flowing locks, the raven's wing, Adown her neck and bosom hing; How sweet unto that breast to cling, And round that neck entwine her!

Her lips are roses wat wi' dew,
Oh, what a feast her bonny mou'!
Her cheeks a mair celestial hue,

A crimson still diviner.

THE HIGHLAND LADDIE.

Tune-"If thou'lt play me fair play."

THIS song is an improvement and expansion of some Jacobite verses, entitled "The Highland Lad and the Lowland Lassie."

THE bonniest lad that e'er I saw,
Bonny laddie, Highland laddie,
Wore a plaid, and was fu' braw,
Bonny Highland laddie.
On his head a bonnet blue,

Bonny laddie, Highland laddie;
His royal heart was firm and true,
Bonny Highland laddie.

Trumpets sound, and cannons roar,
Bonny lassie, Lowland lassie;
And a' the hills wi' echoes roar,
Bonny Lowland lassie.
Glory, honour, now invite,

Bonny lassie, Lowland lassie,
For freedom and my king to fight,
Bonny Lowland lassie.

The sun a backward course shall take,
Bonny laddie, Highland laddie,
Ere aught thy manly courage shake,
Bonny Highland laddie.

Go! for yoursel procure renown,

Bonny laddie, Highland laddie;

And for your lawful king his crown,
Bonny Highland laddie.

THE LASS THAT MADE THE BED TO ME.

Tune-"The lass that made the bed to me."

THE poet tells us, that ""The bonny lass that made the bed to me' was com posed on an amour of Charles II., when skulking in the north, about Aberdeen, in the time of the usurpation. He formed une petite affaire with a daughter of the house of Port Letham, who was the lass that made the bed to him!

WHEN Januar' wind was blawing cauld,
As to the north I took my way,
The mirksome night did me enfauld,
I knew na where to lodge till day.

By my good luck a maid I met,
Just in the middle o' my care;
And kindly she did me invite

To walk into a chamber fair.

I bow'd fu' low unto this maid,
And thank'd her for her courtesie;
I bow'd fu' low unto this maid,

And bade her make a bed for me.

She made the bed baith large and wide,
Wi' twa white hands she spread it down,
She put the cup to her rosy lips,

And drank, "Young man, now sleep ye soun'."

She snatch'd the candle in her hand,

And frae my chamber went wi' speed ;

But I call'd her quickly back again,

To lay some mair below my head.

A cod she laid below my head,

And served me wi' due respect; And, to salute her wi' a kiss,

I put my arms about her neck.

"Haud off your hands, young man,” she says, "And dinna sae uncivil be:

Gif ye hae ony love for me,

Oh, wrang na my virginitie !"

Her hair was like the links o' gowd,
Her teeth were like the ivorie;
Her cheeks like lilies dipt in wine,
The lass that made the bed to me.

Her bosom was the driven snaw,

Twa drifted heaps sae fair to see ; Her limbs the polish'd marble stane, The lass that made the bed to me.

I kiss'd her owre and owre again,

And aye she wist na what to say; I laid her between me and the wa'The lassie thought na lang till day.

Upon the morrow, when we rose,

I thank'd her for her courtesie;
But aye she blush'd, and aye she sigh'd,
And said, "Alas! ye've ruin'd me."

I clasp'd her waist, and kiss'd her syne,
While the tear stood twinkling in her ee;
I said, "My lassie, dinna cry,

For ye aye shall mak the bed to me."

She took her mither's Holland sheets,
And made them a' in sarks to me:
Blithe and merry may she be,

The lass that made the bed to me.

The bonny lass made the bed to me,
The braw lass made the bed to me;
I'll ne'er forget, till the day 1 die,

The lass that made the bed to me!

THE LASS OF ECCLEFECHAN.

Tune-"Jacky Latin."

GAT ye me, oh, gat ye me,
Oh, gat ye me wi' naething?
Rock and reel, and spinnin' wheel,
A mickle quarter basin.

Bye attour, my gutcher has1

A heigh house and a laigh ane,

A' forbye my bonny sel,

The toss of Ecclefechan.

Oh, haud your tongue now, Luckie Laing,
Oh, haud your tongue and jauner; 2

I held the gate till you I met,

Syne I began to wander :

I tint my whistle and my sang,
I tint my peace and pleasure;

But your green graff1 now, Luckie Laing,

5

Wad airt me to my treasure.

And our guidwife has gotten a ca'
That anger'd the silly guidman, O.

We'll hide the cooper behind the door,
Behind the door, behind the door,
We'll hide the cooper behind the door,
And cover him under a mawn,1 O.

He sought them out, he sought them in,
Wi', Deil hae her! and, Deil hae him!
But the body he was sae doited2 and blin',
He wistna where he was gaun, O.

They cooper'd at e'en, they cooper'd at morn,
Till our guidman has gotten the scorn;
On ilka brow she's planted a horn,

And swears that there they shall stan', O.