Sheath the sword Scotland! Scotland! Scotland; Sheath the sword Scotland, for dimn'd is its shine.; Thy foemen are fleeing, 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 loved thistle new laurels entwine;
Time ne'er shall part them, part them, part them,
But hand down the garland to each son o' thine.
MR. WALKER THE TWOPENNY POSTMAN.
VERY near the west-end, tho' I must not tell where,
A shoemaker married a maiden so fair,
Who a month after wedlock, 'tis truth I declare,
Fell in love with a twopenny postman.
Her person was thin, genteel, and tall,
Her carrotty hair did in ringlets fall,
And while her spousy work'd hard at his stall,
She watch'd this twopenny postman.
He was just four feet six in height,
But a well made figure to the sight;
He walked like a beefeater, bolt upright,
Mr. Walker, the twopenny postman.
His toes he turn'd out, he had bright black eyes,
His nose was more than the
And he really look'd without any lies,
Too genteel for a twopenny postman.
Resolved she was to get in his way,
So without any trouble she met him one day,
And says she, "Have you got e'er a letter I say,
For me, Mr. Twopenny Postman."
Says he, "I don't know you;" says she, "Good lack, I lives next door in the two-pair back,-
My husband's a cobbler, 'tis all in your track”-
"It's all right," says the twopenny postman.
Next morning, I can't tell you what she was at,
She felt her heart suddenly beat pit-a-pat,
When she heard at the street-door a double rat-tat;
And in came the twopenny postman.
"Here's a letter," said he, the cunning elf,
"The postage is paid, so needs no pelf."
In fact he had written the letter himself,
And brought it, the twopenny postman.
With love in his eyes, he then at her did stare;
Says he, "I ne'er saw a lady so fair:
I always was partial to carrotty hair-
I was," says the twopenny postman.
"That your husband ill-treats you I can't suppose”"Yes, he gives me bad words and sometimes blows He's an ugly man, and has got no nose."
"I have," says the twopenny postman.
His kindness was such that it knew no end,
And to prove that he really was a real friend,
He took her spouse three pair of shoes for to mend,
Mr. Walker, the twopenny postman.
They were soled and heel'd without delay;
To the cobbler he had so much to say:
He got the shoes, but as for the pay,
'Twas Walker the twopenny postman.
Ever since then they've led a cat-and-dog life;
Their home, bed, and board, have been nothing but
The cobbler was done, and so was his wife
By Walker, the twopenny postman.
For by way of a finish to this vile act,
The lady (depend on't, 'tis a fact)
Has brought him a boy the image exact
Of Walker, the twopenny postman.
TELL ME MY HEART.
TELL me my heart, why morning prime, Looks like the fading eve,
Why the gay larks celestial chime,
Shall tell, shall tell, the soul to grieve;
The heaving bosom seems to say,
Ah! hapless maid, your love's away.
Tell me my heart, why summer's glow,
A wintry day beguile;
Why Flora's beauties seem to blow,
And fading nature smiles,
Some zephyr whispers in my ear,
Ah! happy maid your love is near.
BACHELOR'S FARE.
ONE night my sweetheart came to woo,
When I was left and lonely,
He looked so kind and handsome too,
I loved him and him only.
The village chime told supper time,
What could I do dear misses?
For, as I live, I'd nought to give,
But bread, and cheese, and kisses.
But bread, and cheese, &c.
He asked my hand with such a grace,
What woman could refuse him?
I think, had you been in my place,
You'd say 'twas right to choose him;
I hung my head, and simpering said,-
What could I say dear misses?
I will be thine, though we should dine
On bread, and cheese, and kisses.
On bread, and cheese, &c.
Next morning, we exchanged our vows,
I prize his golden present,
Which seems like magic to disclose
Each moment something pleasant.
His cheerful smiles each care beguiles,
Believe me, dearest misses,
"Tis bliss to share with him our fare,
Though bread, and cheese, and kisses.
Though bread, and cheese, &c.
YOUNG Jamie lo'ed me weel, and he sought me for his bride,
But saving a crown, he had naething else beside ;
To mak that crown a pund, my Jamie gade to sea,
And the crown and the pund were baith for me.
He had na been awa, a week but only twa,
When my mither she fell sick, and the cow was stown
My Father brak his arm, and my Jamie at the sea, And auld Robin Gray cam a-courting to me.
My father cou'dna work, and my mither cou'dna
I toil'd baith day and night, but their bread I cou'dna
Auld Rob maintain'd them baith, and wi' tears in his ee,
Said Jenny, for their sakes, O will you marry me?
My heart it said may, look'd for Jamie back;
But the wind it blew high, and the ship it prov'd a wreck ;
The ship it prov'd a wreck, why didna Jenny die!
And why do I live to say, Oh! waes me?
Auld Robin argued sair, though my mither didna speak,
She look'd in my face till my heart was like to break ;
So they gied him my hand, tho' my heart was at the
And auld Robin Gray is a gude man to me.
I hadna been a wife a week but only four,
When sitting sae mournfully ae day at the door,
I saw my Jamie's wraith, for I cou'dna think it he,
Until he said, Jenny, I'm come to marry thee.
O, sair did we greet, and muckle did we say,
We took but ae kiss, and tore ourselves away:
I wish I were dead, but I'm nae like to die,
And why do I live, to say Oh! waes me?
I gang like a ghaist, I carena to spin,
I darena think on Jamie, for that wad be a sin;
But I'll do my best a gude wife for to be,
For auld Robin Gray is kind unto me.
COME listen to a whimmy chant,
And if there's nothing in it,
Will you a little patience grant,
If quickly I begin it;
A love-sick grocer, Billy Wood,
A victim I'm to cupid,
So if my song is long and good,
Don't call it short and stupid.
One day as trudging through the Park,
With plums and currants laden;
Says I, I'll have a little lark
With yonder pretty maiden;
She's drest so spruce, and looks so sly,
To lose her will not do, sir;
And though a cast she's in one eye,
Why I've a cast in two, sir.
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