Hey, the dusty miller,
And his dusty sack;
Leeze me on the calling
Fills the dusty peck,
Fills the dusty peck,
Brings the dusty siller;
I wad gi'e my coatie
For the dusty miller.
BONNIE PEG.
As I came in by our gate end,
As day was waxin' weary,
O wha came tripping down the street,
But bonnie Peg, my dearie!
Her air sae sweet, and shape complete,
Wi' nae proportion wanting,
The Queen of Love did never move
Wi' motion mair enchanting.
Wi' linked hands, we took the sands
Adown yon winding river;
And, oh! that hour and broomy bower,
Can I forget it ever?
THERE WAS A LASS.
THERE was a lass, they ca'd her Meg,
And she held o'er the moors to spin;
There was a lad that followed her,
They ca'd him Duncan Davison.
The moor was dreigh, and Meg was skeigh,
Her favour Duncan could na win:
For wi' the rock she wad him knock,
And aye she shook the temper-pin.
As o'er the moor they lightly foor,
A burn was clear, a glen was green,
Upon the banks they eased their shanks,
And aye
she set the wheel between:
But Duncan swore a haly aith,
That Meg should be a bride the morn;
Then Meg took up her spinnin' graith,
And flang them a' out o'er the burn.
We'll big a house-a wee, wee house,
And we will live like king and queen;
Sae blythe and merry we will be
When ye set by the wheel at e'en.
A man may drink and no be drunk;
A man may fight and no be slain;
A man may kiss a bonnie lass,
And aye be welcome back again.
WHEN first I began for to sigh and to woo her,
Of many fine things I did say a great deal,
But, above all the rest, that which pleased her the best,
Was, Oh! will you marry me, Shelah O'Neil?
My point I soon carried, for straight we were married,
Then the weight of my burden I soon 'gan to feel,-
For she scolded, she fisted-O then I enlisted,
Left Ireland, and whiskey, and Shelah O'Neil.
Then tired and dull-hearted, O then I deserted,
And fled into regions far distant from home,
To Frederick's army, where none e'er could harm me,
Save Shelah herself in the shape of a bomb.
I fought every battle, where cannons did rattle,
Felt sharp shot, alas! and the sharp-pointed steel; But, in all my wars round, thank my stars, I ne'er found Aught so sharp as the tongue of cursed Shelah O'N
THENIEL MENZIE'S BONNIE MARY.
IN coming by the brig o' Dye,
At Darlet we a blink did tarry;
As day was dawin' in the sky,
We drank a health to bonnie Mary.
Theniel Menzie's bonnie Mary,
Theniel Menzie's bonnie Mary;
Charlie Gregor tint his plaidie,
Kissin' Theniel's bonnie Mary.
Her een sae bright, her brow sae white,
Her haffet locks as brown's a berry;
And aye they dimpl't wi' a smile,
The rosy cheeks o' bonnie Mary.
We lap and danced the lee-lang day,
Till piper lads were wae an' weary;
But Charlie gat the spring to pay,
For kissin' Theniel's bonnie Mary.
THERE'LL NEVER BE PEACE TILL JAMIE
COMES HAME.
By yon castle wa', at the close of the day,
I heard a man sing, though his head it was grey;
And as he was singing, the tears fast down came-
There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame.
The Church is in ruins, the State is in jars,
Delusions, oppressions, and murderous wars:
We dare na weel say 't, but we ken wha's to blame--
There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame.
My seven braw sons for Jamie drew sword,
And now I greet round their green beds in the yird: It brak the sweet heart o' my faithfu' auld dameThere'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame.
Now life is a burden that bows me down,
Sin' I tint my bairns, and he tint his crown;
But till my last moment my words are the same--
There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame.
How pleasant the banks of the clear winding Devon,
With green-spreading bushes and flowers blooming fair!
But the bonniest flower on the banks of the Devon
Was once a sweet bud on the braes of the Ayr.
Mild be the sun on this sweet blushing flower,
In the gay rosy morn, as it bathes in the dew!
And gentle the fall of the soft vernal shower,
That steals on the evening each leaf to renew.
O spare the dear blossoms, ye orient breezes,
With chill hoary wing, as ye usher the dawn!
And far be thou distant, thou reptile that seizes
The verdure and pride of the garden and lawn!
Let Bourbon exult in his gay gilded lilies,
And England, triumphant, display her proud rose:
A fairer than either adorns the green valleys
Where Devon, sweet Devon, meandering flows.
YE HAE LIEN A' WRANG, LASSIE.
Ye hae lien a' wrang, lassie
Ye've lien a' wrang;
Ye've lien in an unco bed,
And wi' a fremit man.
Your rosy cheeks are turned sae wan,
Ye're greener than the grass, lassie!
Your coatie's shorter by a span,
Yet ne'er an inch the less, lassie.
O lassie, ye hae played the fool,
And ye will feel the scorn, lassie,
For aye the brose ye sup at e'en
Ye bock them e'er the morn, lassie.
O, ance ye danced upon the knowes,
And through the wood ye sang, lassie,
But in the herrying o' a bee byke,
I fear ye've got a stang, lassie.
RAVING WINDS AROUND HER BLOWING.
RAVING winds around her blowing,
Yellow leaves the woodlands strowing,
By a river hoarsely roaring,
Isabella strayed deploring:-
'Farewell hours that late did measure
Sunshine days of joy and pleasure!
Hail thou gloomy night of sorrow,
Cheerless night that knows no morrow!
'O'er the past too fondly wandering,
On the hopeless future pondering;
Chilly grief my life-blood freezes,
Fell despair my fancy seizes.
Life, thou soul of every blessing,
Load to misery most distressing,
Oh, how gladly I'd resign thee,
And to dark oblivion join thee!'
MUSING ON THE ROARING OCEAN.
MUSING on the roaring ocean,
Which divides my love and me;
Wearying Heaven, in warm devotion,
For his weal where'er he be.
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