When o’er the hill the eastern star Tells bughtin time is near, my jo, And owsen frae the furrow’d field Return sae dowf and weary O; Down by the burn, where birken buds Wi’ dew are hangin clear, my jo, I’ll meet thee on the lea-rig, My ain kind Dearie O. At midnight hour, in mirkest glen, I’d rove, and ne’er be eerie, O, If thro’ that glen I gaed to thee, My ain kind Dearie O; Altho’ the night were ne’er sae wild, And I were ne’er sae weary O, I’ll meet thee on the lea-rig, My ain kind Dearie O. The hunter lo’es the morning sun; To rouse the mountain deer, my jo; At noon the fisher seeks the glen Adown the burn to steer, my jo: Gie me the hour o’ gloamin’ grey, It maks my heart sae cheery O, To meet thee on the lea-rig, My ain kind Dearie O.
My Wife’s A Winsome Wee Thing
Air—“My Wife’s a Wanton Wee Thing.”
Chorus.—She is a winsome wee thing, She is a handsome wee thing, She is a lo’esome wee thing, This dear wee wife o’ mine. I never saw a fairer, I never lo’ed a dearer, And neist my heart I’ll wear her, For fear my jewel tine, She is a winsome, &c. The warld’s wrack we share o’t; The warstle and the care o’t; Wi’ her I’ll blythely bear it, And think my lot divine. She is a winsome, &c.
Highland Mary
Tune—“Katherine Ogie.”
Ye banks, and braes, and streams around The castle o’ Montgomery! Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, Your waters never drumlie: There Simmer first unfauld her robes, And there the langest tarry; For there I took the last Farewell O’ my sweet Highland Mary. How sweetly bloom’d the gay, green birk, How rich the hawthorn’s blossom, As underneath their fragrant shade, I clasp’d 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’ mony a vow, and lock’d embrace, Our parting was fu’ tender; And, pledging aft to meet again, We tore oursels asunder; But oh! fell Death’s untimely frost, That nipt my Flower sae early! Now green’s the sod, and cauld’s the clay That wraps my Highland Mary! O pale, pale now, those rosy lips, I aft hae kiss’d sae fondly! And clos’d for aye, the sparkling glance That dwalt on me sae kindly! And mouldering now in silent dust, That heart that lo’ed me dearly! But still within my bosom’s core Shall live my Highland Mary.