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THE BRAES O' KILLIECRANKIE At Killie

WHARE hae ye been sae braw, lad?

Whare hae ye

been sae brankie, O?

Whare hae ye been sae braw, lad?

Cam ye by Killiecrankie, O?
Chorus.-An ye had been whare I hae been,
Ye wad na been sae cantie, O;
An ye had seen what I hae seen,
On the Braes o' Killiecrankie, O.

I faught at land, I faught at sea,
At hame I faught my auntie, O;
But I met the Devil an' Dundee,
On the Braes o' Killiecrankie, O.
An ye had been, &c.

The bauld Pitcur fell in a furr,
An' Clavers gat a clankie, O;
Or I had fed an Athole gled,
On the Braes o' Killiecrankie, O.
An ye had been, &c.

AWA' WHIGS, AWA'
Chorus.-Awa' Whigs, awa'!

Awa' Whigs, awa'!

Ye're but a pack o' traitor louns,
Ye'll do nae gude at a’.

OUR thrissles flourish'd fresh and fair,
And bonie bloom'd our roses;
But Whigs cam' like a frost in June,
An' wither'd a' our posies.

Awa' Whigs, &c.

crankie

Traitor
Whigs

Our ancient crown's fa'en in the dust-
Deil blin' them wi' the stour o't!
An' write their names in his black beuk,

Wha gae the Whigs the
Awa' Whigs, &c.

power

Our sad decay in church and state
Surpasses my descriving:

o't.

The Whigs cam' o'er us for a curse,
An' we hae done wi' thriving.
Awa' Whigs, &c.

Grim Vengeance lang has taen a nap,
But we may see him wauken:
Gude help the day when Royal heade
Are hunted like a maukin!
Awa' Whigs, &c.

A WAUKRIFE MINNIE

WHARE are you gaun, my bonie lass,
Whare are you gaun, my hinnie?
She answered me right saucilie,
"An errand for my minnie."

O whare live ye, my bonie lass,
O whare live ye, my hinnie?
"By yon burnside, gin ye maun ken,
In a wee house wi' my minnie."

But I foor up the glen at e'en,
To see my bonie lassie ;

And lang before the grey morn cam,
She was na hauf sae saucie.

O

The lover's hostage

weary

fa' the waukrife cock, And the foumart lay his crawin!

He wauken'd the auld wife frae her sleep,
A wee blink or the dawin.

An

angry

wife I wat she raise,

And o'er the bed she brocht her; And wi' a meikle hazel rung

She made her a weel-pay'd dochter.

O fare thee weel, my bonie lass,
O fare thee well, my hinnie!
Thou art a gay an' a bonie lass,
But thou has a waukrife minnie.

THE CAPTIVE RIBBAND
Tune-" Robaidh dona gorach."
MYRA, the captive ribband's mine,
'Twas all my faithful love could gain ;
And would you ask me to resign

The sole reward that crowns my pain?

Go, bid the hero who has run

Thro' fields of death to gather fame, Go, bid him lay his laurels down,

And all his well-earn'd praise disclaim

The ribband shall its freedom lose-
Lose all the bliss it had with you,
And share the fate I would impose
On thee, wert thou my captive too.

It shall upon my bosom live,

Or clasp me in a close embrace; And at its fortune if you grieve,

Retrieve its doom, and take its place.

Highland MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS

hills

Tune-"Failte na Miosg."

FAREWELL to the Highlands, farewell to the North,
The birth-place of Valour, the country of Worth;
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,

The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.

Chorus.-My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,

My heart's in the Highlands, achasing the deer;

A-chasing the wild-deer, and follow

ing the roe,

My heart's in the Highlands wher-
ever I go.

Farewell to the mountains, high-cover'd with snow,
Farewell to the straths and green valleys below;
Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods,
Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.
My heart's in the Highlands, &c

MERRY HAE I BEEN TEETHIN
A HECKLE

Tune-"The bob o' Dumblane."

O MERRY hae I been teethin a heckle,
An' merry hae I been shapin a spoon;
O merry hae I been cloutin a kettle,

An' kissin my Katie when a' was done.
O a' the lang day I ca' at my hammer,

An' a' the lang day I whistle and sing;
O a' the lang night I cuddle my kimmer,
An' a' the lang night as happy's a king.

Bitter in dool I lickit my winnins

O' marrying Bess, to gie her a slave : Blest be the hour she cool'd in her linens,

And blythe be the bird that sings on her grave! Come to my arms, my Katie, my Katie;

O come to my arms and kiss me again! Drucken or sober, here's to thee, Katie! An' blest be the day I did it again.

THE GOWDEN LOCKS OF ANNA
YESTREEN I had a pint o' wine,
A place where body saw na;
Yestreen lay on this breast o' mine
The gowden locks of Anna.

The hungry Jew in wilderness,
Rejoicing o'er his manna,
Was naething to my hinnie bliss
Upon the lips of Anna.

Ye monarchs, take the East and West
Frae Indus to Savannah;
Gie me, within my straining grasp,
The melting form of Anna.

There I'll despise Imperial charms,
An Empress or Sultana,
While dying raptures in her arms
I give and take wi' Anna!

Awa, thou flaunting God of Day!
Awa, thou pale Diana !

Ilk Star, gae hide thy twinkling ray,
When I'm to meet my Anna!

Love for
Anna

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