Altho' the night were ne'er sae wild,
And I were ne'er sae wearie O,
I'd meet thee on the lea-rig,
My ain kind dearie O.

The hunter lo'es the morning sun,
To rouse the mountain deer, my jo;
At noon the fisher seeks the glen,
Along the burn to steer, my jo.
Gie me the hour o' gloamin grey,
It maks my heart sae cheery O,
To meet thee on the lea-rig,
My ain kind dearie O.

XCIII.

WHEN WILD WAR'S DEADLY BLAST WAS

BLAWN.

TUNE-The Mill Mill O.

WHEN wild war's deadly blast was blawn,

And gentle peace returning,

Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless,

And mony a widow mourning;

I left the lines and tented field,
Where lang I'd been a lodger,
My humble knapsack a' my wealth,
A poor and honest sodger.

A leal, light heart was in my breast,
My hand unstain'd wi' plunder,

And for fair Scotia hame again
I cheery on did wander :

I thought upon the banks o' Coil;
I thought upon my Nancy;
I thought upon the witching smile
That caught my youthful fancy.

At length I reach'd the bonnie glen,
Where early life I sported;

I pass'd the mill, and trysting thorn
Where Nancy aft I courted:

Wha spied I but my ain dear maid,
Down by her mother's dwelling?
And turn'd me round to hide the flood
That in my een was swelling...

Wi' alter'd voice, quoth I, sweet lass, Sweet as yon hawthorn's blossom, O! happy, happy may he be

That 's dearest to thy bosom ! My purse is light, I've far to gang, And fain wad be thy lodger! I've served my king and country lang: Take pity on a sodger.

Sae wistfully she gazed on me,

And lovelier was than ever:
Quo' she, a sodger ance I lo'ed,

Forget him shall I never :
Our humble cot, and hamely fare,
Ye freely shall partake it;

That gallant badge, the dear cockade,
Ye 're welcome for the sake o't.

She gazed-she redden'd like a roseSyne pale like ony lily;

She sank within my arms, and cried, Art thou my ain dear Willie ?

By him who made yon sun and sky,
By whom true love's regarded,
I am the man; and thus may still
True lovers be rewarded.

The wars are o'er, and I 'm come hame,
And find thee still true-hearted;
Tho' poor in gear, we're rich in love,
And mair we'se ne'er be parted.
Quo' she, my grandsire left me gowd,
A mailen plenish'd fairly;

And come, my faithful sodger lad,
Thou 'rt welcome to it dearly!

For gold the merchant ploughs the main,
The farmer ploughs the manor;
But glory is the sodger's prize;
The sodger's wealth is honour.
The brave poor sodger ne'er despise,
Nor count him as a stranger;
Remember he's his country's stay
In day and hour of danger.

XCIV.

FAIR JENNY.

TUNE-Saw ye my Father.

WHERE are the joys I have met in the morning,
That danced to the lark's early song?
Where is the peace that awaited my wandering,
At evening the wild-woods among?

No more a winding the course of yon river,
And marking sweet flowerets so fair;
No more I trace the light footsteps of pleasure,
But sorrow and sad-sighing care.

Is it that summer's forsaken our valleys,
And grim surly winter is near?

No, no, the bees humming round the gay roses,
Proclaim it the pride of the year.

Fain would I hide, what I fear to discover,
Yet long, long too well have I known:
All that has caused this wreck in my bosom,
Is Jenny, fair Jenny alone.

Time cannot aid me, my griefs are immortal,
Nor hope dare a comfort bestow :

Come then, enamour'd and fond of my anguish, Enjoyment I'll seek in my woe.

XCV.

WHERE BRAVING ANGRY WINTER'S STORMS.

TUNE-N. Gow's Lamentation for Abercairny.

WHERE, braving angry winter's storms,

The lofty Ochels rise,

Far in their shade my Peggy's charms

First blest my wondering eyes :
As one who, by some savage stream,
A lonely gem surveys,

Astonish'd, doubly marks it beam

With art's most polish'd blaze.

Blest be the wild, sequester'd shade,
And blest the day and hour,
Where Peggy's charms I first survey'd,
When first I felt their power!
The tyrant Death with grim control
May seize my fleeting breath;
But tearing Peggy from my soul
Must be a stronger death.

XCVI.

SIC A WIFE AS WILLIE HAD.

TUNE-Tibbie Fowler in the Glen.

WILLIE WASTLE dwalt on Tweed,
The spot they ca'd it Linkumdoddie:
Willie was a wabster guid,

Cou'd stown a clue wi' ony bodie;
He had a wife was dour and din :
O Tinkler Madgie was her mither :

Sic a wife as Willie had,

I wadna gie a button for her.

She has an ee, she has but ane,
The cat has twa the very colour;
Five rusty teeth, forbye a stump,

A clapper tongue wad deave a miller; A whiskin beard about her mou,

Her nose and chin they threaten ither:
Sic a wife, &c.