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And O hoo you cam by't—your motive and end,
Fient ane but the devil, I'm sure, can defend:
Our Kirk you've polluted, and brought her to shame-
And we'll ne'er hae peace till the siller's sent hame.

Auld Scotia you've leed on; and loud the alarms— We're a' by the lugs, and will soon be in arms: Wright kennelt the ingle, and still blaws the flameSae we'll ne'er hae peace till the siller's sent hame.

And hear noble Duncan and Grey for a wee-
The honour, the glory, and croon o' the Free;
Hoo loudly your guilt and your greed they declaim-
Sae we'll ne'er hae peace till the siller's sent hame.

But think what you've dune, and, o Willie, relent,
Like Judas, your billy, yea, even repent,
And bundle it back wi' your curse on the same-
For we'll ne'er hae peace till the siller’s sent hame.

By a' that is guid, O I rede you beware!
The skaith that our Kirk by your keepin't may share.
A spleet_0 forbid it, eneugh o' that game;
Sae we'll ne'er hae peace till the siller's sent hame.

THE LOVE-SICK MAID.

Air" The Campbells are comin'."

CHORUS.
A SAW ye my laddie as crossed ye the lea ?

O saw ye my laddie as crossed ye the lea ? Now joke nae mair, Jamie, for pain ye but gie; And tell me, oh tell, where he's wandered frae me.

His troosers are black, and his jacket is blue,
His bonnet the same, and his plaidie is new;
He's tall and he's strappin', sae bloomin' and fair,
That nane o' the parish can wi' him compare.

Then saw ye, &c.

His dark hazel e'e and his love-winnin' smile
Betoken a bosom unsullied by guile;
He's meek and he's modest, devoted and a',
And naething's awantin' worth haein' ava.

Then saw ye, &c.

O bliss o'my bliss, and my pride and desire,
How callous the breast that he canna inspire !
The lassies a' like him, and mony caress
And wheedle around him, their love to express.

Then saw ye, &c.

But in his young fancy his Helen's the wale,
O’er a' their slee airts she can easy prevail:
He kisses and claps me, and ca's me his dear,
And wordless affection he seals wi' a tear.

Then saw ye, &c.

The mair I think o' him the mair am I taen,
And Nature's sweet impulse I canna restrain:
Like magic it sets a' my heart in a flame,
If neebors aroun' only mint but his name.

Then saw ye, &c.

O lang hae I lo’ed him, and evermair will;
There's a neuk i' this bosom nae ither can fill:
Through weal and through wae to my laddie I'll

cling,
Till death to a close our devotion shall bring.

Then saw ye, &c.

But wheisht, O my heart—faith he's comin' at last:
That's surely his whistle—oh yes, has he passed
Yon green holly bush ? and now, Jamie, fareweel;
Yet the scene i' the thicket, O never reveal.

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THROUGH yon green-wood let me ramble,

'Mang Nature's minstrels singing, And climb Tweed's bonnie banks and braes,

Where the wee wild flowers are springing. How cauld and strange the warld to me!

Alane, O let me tarry,
To sigh unseen, and weep, alas !

My absent blue-eyed Mary!

Thrice sacred scenes, to memory dear,

The slumbering past recalling, When summer o'er the bosom smiled,

Nae blight its verdure palling. That mystic manna o’the soul,

Amang yon bowers sae fairy, How often hae I gathered wi'

My absent blue-eyed Mary!

Oft by yon wimplin' burnie, oft

Unconscious whither roaming, In thrilling nameless rapture fled

The hallowed hours till gloaming.

There in each consecrated shade,

In love that ne'er could vary, Oft wi’ its liquid pledge I blessed

My absent blue-eyed Mary.

O joys unmingled, transports dear,

Her angel charms, oh never Can I forget, when in the glen

We met to part for ever. Ah, little dreamt this withered heart,

That fate would blast sae early Its life, its hope, its all, O heaven,

My absent blue-eyed Mary!

But vain, alas ! I linger here,

In vain the tear distilling; In vain the groan for perished worth,

A lover's woe revealing. Peace to thy memory! adieu

To a’ I lo’ed sae dearly: Thy sainted room who e'er shall fill,

My absent blue-eyed Mary?

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