Good night, and joy be wi' ye a',
Your harmless mirth has cheer'd my heart;
May life's fell blasts out o'er ye blaw;
In sorrow may ye never part!
My spirit lives, but strength is gone,
The mountain-fires now blaze in vain;
Remember, sons, the deeds I 've done,
And in your deeds I 'll live again!
When on yon muir our gallant clan,
Frae boasting foes their banners tore;
Wha shew'd himself a better man,
Or fiercer waved the red claymore?
But when in peace—then mark me there—
When through the glen the wand'rer came,
I gave him of our lordly fare,
I gave him here a welcome hame.
The auld will speak, the young maun hear;
Be cantie, but be gude and leal;
Your ain ills aye hae heart to bear,
Anither's aye hae heart to feel.
So, ere I set, I 'll see ye shine;
I 'll see ye triumph ere I fa';
My parting breath shall boast you mine—
Good night, and joy be wi' ye a'!
OLD AND NEW TIMES.[102]
Air—"Kellyburn Braes."
Hech! what a change hae we now in this town!
The lads a' sae braw, the lasses sae glancin',
Folk maun be dizzie gaun aye in the roun'
For deil a haet 's done now but feastin' and dancin'.
Gowd 's no that scanty in ilk siller pock,
When ilka bit laddie maun hae his bit staigie;
But I kent the day when there was nae a Jock,
But trotted about upon honest shank's naigie.
Little was stown then, and less gaed to waste,
Barely a mullin for mice or for rattens;
The thrifty housewife to the flesh-market paced,
Her equipage a'—just a gude pair o' pattens.
Folk were as good then, and friends were as leal,
Though coaches were scant, wi' their cattle a-cantrin';
Right air we were tell 't by the housemaid or chiel',
Sir, an' ye please, here 's your lass and a lantern.