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I LO'ED A LASSIE YOUNG AND FAIR.

Air-" For a' that, and a' that."

LO'ED a lassie young and fair,
Ay late and sune, and a' that;
Wi' hope and fear, and muckle care,
But conquered still for a' that-
For a' that, and a' that,

Her lily hand, and a' that,
She pledged to me, and I her mine,
Afore the priest for a' that.

And sin' our merry bridal e'en,
Hoo doubly blessed and a' that,
My canty Kate and I hae been,
Yet crosses had for a' that-

For a' that, and a' that,

What cared we then for a' that?
When doon, we aye got up again,
And crooser crawed for a' that.

Though we hae little warldly gear,
Our bite and brat, and a' that,
Frae hameless sorrow's een the tear

Hae aften wiped for a' that

For a' that, and a' that,

A neebor's cares, and a' that; We've made our ain wi' helpin' hand, Yet thrave nae waur for a' that.

What's a' the warld?-a passin' show;
Its honours, wealth, and a' that?
If share we not a brother's woe,
Though rich, hoo puir for a' that ?-
For a' that, and a' that,

Without content, and a' that:

A conscience clear, a hame to cheer,
I'll seek nae mair wi' a' that.

P

WE HAD A ROWTH O' CLINK YESTREEN.

SE a' had rowth o' clink yestreen,
And snug in Robin's, canty Robin's:
We had our saps wi' glee, I ween-
A rare and happy quorum.

Sae sweet we preed the "tappet hen,"
Fu blithe in Robin's, rantin' Robin's;
Wha aye sae merry brought her ben,
And croonin' Tullochgorum.

CHORUS.

But whan the morn began to daw,
O dowf and dowie, dowf and dowie;

And ilka back was at the wa',

We could nae raise the jorum.

Sae where were a' our fun and spree,
We had in Robin's, witty Robin's?
I'll mind him till the day I dee-
The deil can ne'er get o'er him;
For toom our pouches grew at last,

Syne sad was Robin, mad was Robin,

Wha damned our drouth as mair we asked, As mony's dune afore him.

Sae whan the morn, &c.

We did our best without avail,

But surly Robin's, churlish Robin's, Ance feelin' heart had turned to mail, And cooled the love we bore him: Sae up we gat, and swore an aith,

That friends wi' Robin, menseless Robin, We ne'er would be till our last breath, Nor wi' him hae a splorum.

Sae whan the morn, &c.

DARK LOWERS THE MIST ON THE WHITE

TOWERING CHEVIOT.

Tune "The Braes of Gleniffer."

ARK lowers the mist on the white towering
Cheviot,

Cauld drifts the snaw across the bleak plain;
Recallin' the day-O could I retrieve it !—

I sighed the farewell to my laddie that's gane.

How dowie and cheerless and springless the bosom;
Alas! for its sunshine, its verdure and a';
And where its ance fragrant and fairy-like blossom,
Since a' that I liket has wandered awa?

That hour that he left me, can e'er I forget it,
Wi' a' his embraces sae namelessly dear?
The fealty he plighted,-oh never ance let it
Be breathed but in love, and embalmed by a tear.

And oh the fond look, the last o' my lover,
The shake o' his hand, and his angelic smile;
How hallowed, how dearer than life to me ever !

I ne'er but in sadness can pass the auld stile.

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