In that sober pensive mood, She plants the forest, pours the flood: And find at night a sheltering cave, SONG-LADY ONLIE, HONEST LUCKY Tune-" The Ruffian's Rant." A' THE lads o' Thorniebank, When they gae to the shore o' Bucky, They'll step in an' tak a pint Wi' Lady Onlie, honest lucky. Chorus.-Lady Onlie, honest lucky, Brews gude ale at shore o' Bucky; I wish her sale for her gude ale, The best on a' the shore o' Bucky. Her house sae bien, her curch sae clean THENIEL MENZIES' BONIE MARY Air-"The Ruffian's Rant," or Roy's Wife. IN comin by the brig o' Dye, At Darlet we a blink did tarry; As day was dawnin in the sky, We drank a health to bonie Mary. Chorus.-Theniel Menzies' bonie Mary, Her een sae bright, her brow sae white, Theniel Menzies' bonie Mary, &c. We lap a' danc'd the lee-lang day, THE BONIE LASS OF ALBANY1 My heart is wae, and unco wae, This lovely maid's of royal blood That rulèd Albion's kingdoms three, But oh, alas! for her bonie face, They've wrang'd the Lass of Albany. In the rolling tide of spreading Clyde There sits an isle of high degree, And a town of fame whose princely name Should grace the Lass of Albany: But there's a youth, a witless youth, 1 Natural daughter of Prince Charles Edward. We'll send him o'er to his native shore, Alas the day, and woe the day, A false usurper wan the gree, Who now commands the towers and lands- We'll daily pray, we'll nightly pray, ON SCARING SOME WATER-FOWL A wild scene among the Hills of Oughtertyre. "This was the production of a solitary forenoon's walk from Oughtertyre House. I lived there, the guest of Sir William Murray, for two or three weeks, and was much flattered by my hospitable reception. What a pity that the mere emotions of gratitude are so impotent in this world. 'Tis lucky that, as we are told, they will be of some avail in the world to come." -R. B., Glenriddell MSS. WHY, ye tenants of the lake, For me your wat'ry haunt forsake? Bide the surging billow's shock. Conscious, blushing for our race, The eagle, from the cliffy brow, But Man, to whom alone is giv'n In these savage, liquid plains, And life's poor season peaceful spend. Or, if man's superior might Man with all his pow'rs you scorn; Other lakes and other springs; And the foe you cannot brave, Scorn at least to be his slave. BLYTHE WAS SHE' Tune-" Andro and his Cutty Gun." Chorus-Blythe, blythe and merry was she, 1 Written at Oughtertyre. Phemie is Miss Euphemia Murray, a cousin of Sir William Murray of Oughtertyre.-Lang. Blythe by the banks of Earn, By Oughtertyre grows the aik, Her looks were like a flow'r in May, She tripped by the banks o' Earn, Her bonie face it was as meek The evening sun was ne'er sae sweet, The Highland hills I've wander'd wide, A ROSE-BUD BY MY EARLY WALK A ROSE-BUD by my early walk, Ere twice the shades o' dawn are fled, It scents the early morning. |