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Sure makes a heaven here on earth
And ilka lad and lass, &c.
Fates up and down we've kent,
We with it were content;
It frae us ne'er can go,
And that's the best o' gear, &c.
Life's hill we clam thegither,
We've had wi' ane anither;
So hand and hand we go,
But now we're tott'ring down, &c.
When we again awake,
And then our journey take;
Find friends where'er they go,
Upon a morning early,
From flow’rs which grew so rarely,
I chanc'd to meet a pretty maid,
She shin'd though it was fogie,
My name is Kath'rine Ogie.
To see a nymph so stately;
In a country maid so neatly,
Like lilies in a bogie;
Like this same Kath'rine Ogie. Thou flow'r of females, Beautie's queen,
Who sees thee sure must prize thee, Though thou art drest in robes but mean,
Yet these cannot disguise thee; Thy handsome air, and graceful look,
Far excels a clownish rogie; Thou’rt match for laird, or lord, or duke,
My charming Kath'rine Ogie.
To feed my flock beside thee;
In milking to abide thee;
With Kate, my club and dogie;
Had I but Kath’rine Ogie.
And statesmen's dang’rous stations;
I'd smile at conqu’ring nations;
This lass of whom I’m vogie;
Compar'd with Kath'rine Ogie.
But I fear the gods have not decreed
For me so fine a creature;
All other works in nature.
That are both dark and fogie;
Élse I die for Kath’rine Ogie.
O YOUNG Lochinvar is come out of the west,
Lochinvar. He staid not for brake, and stopp'd not for stone, He swam the Eske river where ford there was none: But ere he alighted at Netherby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late, For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall, 'Mong bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers and all; Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word, “O come ye in peace, here, or come ye war, “ Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?” “ I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied; “ Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide; “ And now I am come, with this lost love of mine, " To tread but one measure, drink one cup of wine. “ There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, “ Shat would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.
The bride kiss'd the goblet, the Knight took it up,
plume. And the bride-maidens whisperid, “ 'Twere better by
far, 6. To have match'd our fair cousin with young Loch
invar." One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reach'd the hall-door and the charger stood So light to the croup the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung. “She's won, we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur, They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young
Lochinvar. There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby
clan; Fosters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lea, But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, Have you e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar.
The castle o' Montgomery,
Grcen be your woods, and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie;
And there they langest tarry;
Of my dear Highland Mary.
How rich the hawthorn's blossom;
I clasp'd her to my bosom!
Flew o'er me and my dearie;
Was my sweet Highland Mary.
Our parting was fu’tender;
We tore onrselves assunder.
That nipt my flower sae early;
That wraps my Highland Mary.
I oft hae kiss'd sae fondly;
That dwelt on me sae kindly!
That heart that lo’ed me dearly; But still within my bosom's core
Shall live my Highland Mary.
THE MARINER'S WIFE. But are you sure the news is true?
And are you sure he's well?