BLUE-EYED MARY. Air-"Blue-Eyed Mary." HROUGH yon green-wood let me ramble, 'Mang Nature's minstrels singing, And climb Tweed's bonnie banks and braes, To sigh unseen, and weep, alas! Thrice sacred scenes, to memory dear, Oft by yon wimplin' burnie, oft There in each consecrated shade, O joys unmingled, transports dear, Ah, little dreamt this withered heart, Its life, its hope, its all, O heaven, But vain, alas! I linger here, 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? THE HIRSEL YET FOR ME. WAY! ye orient groves, away! Where fragrant citrons bloom; The orange, lime, and myrtle gay, Exhale their sweet perfume; Nor name those balmy spicy dells, Though florulent they be, Their fairy charms let others sing, The Hirsel yet for me! Elysian spot, while lasts a string, My lyre I'll tune to thee. How sweet to roam thy sunny glades, Their lays from every tree, The Hirsel yet for me! Unrivalled Flora's loved retreat, As angels' breath thy zephyrs sweet; When greets the eye thy blushing walls— The Hirsel yet for me! Dear to my soul, thrice lovely bower, I ask no higher earthly boon- And hail, yon venerable pile, May peace and plenty ever smile, To bless the home of Home! And now adieu, thy magic scenes; My fondest memory Shall ever homage with the lay The Hirsel yet for me! Elysian spot, while lasts a string, My lyre I'll tune to thee. THE BARROW. Air-"You've a' heard tell o' Rob Rorison's Bannet." CHORUS. ND wha in the dub hasna heard o' the barrow? Lang hae our lugs rung wi' the sang o' the barrow? I now wad a croun that she ne'er had a marrow, And challenge braid Scotland to match wi' the barrow. Her frame was o' aik, and the "ready" to hain, Nae plane upon earth durst her venture to brave, Still critics-confound them, their fauts they maun hae; How they quiz, how they quarrel, e'en do as we may— Like flees, to ilk sair o' the barrow they clang; Deil hae't that was dune but they swore it was wrang. |