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In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin!
In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin!
Kate soon will be a woefu' woman!
Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg,
And win the key-stane of the brig:6
There at them thou thy tail may toss,
A running stream they dare na cross.
But ere the key-stane she could make,
The fient a tail she had to shake!
For Nannie, far before the rest,
Hard upon noble Maggie prest,
And flew at Tam wi' furious ettle;8
But little wist she Maggie's mettle—
Ae spring brought aff her master hale, 215
But left behind her ain grey tail:
The carlin claught her by the rump,
And left poor Maggie scarce a stump.

Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read,
Ilk9 man and mother's son, take heed, 220
Whene'er to drink you are inclined,
Or cutty-sarks run in your mind,
Think, ye may buy the joys o'er dear,
Remember Tam o' Shanter's Mare.

Wha for Scotland's king and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand or freeman fa',

Let him follow me!

By oppression's woes and pains!
By your sons in servile chains!
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall be free!
Lay the proud usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty's in every blow!-
Let us do or die!

SONGS

MARY MORISON

O Mary, at thy window be,

It is the wished, the trysted hour! Those smiles and glances let me see, That make the miser's treasure poor: How blythely wad I bide the stoure,10 A weary slave frae sun to sun, Could I the rich reward secure, The lovely Mary Morison.

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O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace,
Wha for thy sake wad gladly die?
Or canst thou break that heart of his,
Whase only faut is loving thee?
If love for love thou wilt na gie

At least be pity to me shown:

A thought ungentle canna be
The thought o' Mary Morison.

GREEN GROW THE RASHES

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CHORUS.-Green grow the rashes, O;
Green grow the rashes, O;
The sweetest hours that e'er I

AE FOND KISS

Ae1 fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae farewell, and then forever!

Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
Who shall say that Fortune grieves him, 5
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me;
Dark despair around benights me.

I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy,
Naething could resist my Nancy;
But to see her was to love her;
Love but her, and love forever.
Had we never loved sae kindly,
Had we never loved sae blindly,
Never met or never parted—
We had ne'er been broken-hearted.

Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest!
Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest!
Thine be ilka2 joy and treasure,
Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure!
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae farewell, alas, forever!

ΙΟ

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Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee!

HIGHLAND MARY

Ye banks, and braes,3 and streams around The castle o' Montgomery,

Green be your woods and fair your flowers, Your waters never drumlie! 4

There simmer first unfald her robes,

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ΙΟ

And there the langest tarry;

For there I took the last fareweel,
O' my sweet Highland Mary.

How sweetly bloomed the gay green birk,
How rich the hawthorn's blossom,

As underneath their fragrant shade
I clasped her to my bosom!

The golden hours on angel wings
Flew o'er me and my dearie;
For dear to me as light and life,

Was my sweet Highland Mary.

Wi' monie a vow and locked embrace
Our parting was fu' tender;

And, pledging aft to meet again,
We tore oursels asunder;

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On blythe Yule night when we were fou, (Ha, ha, the wooin o't!)

Maggie coost' her head fu high,

Looked asklents and unco skeigh,9
Gart 10 poor Duncan stand abeigh;11
Ha, ha, the wooin o't!

Duncan fleeched,12 and Duncan prayed; (Ha, ha, the wooin o't!)

Meg was deaf as Ailsa Craig,

(Ha, ha, the wooin o't!)

Duncan sighed baith out and in,

Grat13 his een14 baith bleer't15 and blin', Spak o' lowpin16 o'er a linn;17

Ha, ha, the wooin o't!

Time and chance are but a tide, (Ha ha, the wooin o't!)

Slighted love is sair to bide, 18

(Ha, ha, the wooin o't!)

"Shall I, like a fool," quoth he,
"For a haughty hizzie19 die?

She may gae to-France for me!"
Ha, ha, the wooin o't!

How it comes let doctors tell,

(Ha, ha, the wooin o't!)

Meg grew sick as he grew hale,
(Ha, ha, the wooin o't!)

Something in her bosom wrings,
For relief a sigh she brings;

And O! her een, they spak sic things!
Ha, ha, the wooin o't!

• full. 10 made.

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14 eyes. 18 endure.

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IO

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