This here was for a wench, and that other in

a trench,

the drum.

II.

To rattle the thundering drum was his trade; His leg was so tight, and his cheek was so

ruddy,

Transported I was with my sodger laddie. Sing, Lal de lal, &c.

Her charms had struck a sturdy Caird,
As weel as poor Gutscraper;
He taks the fiddler by the beard,
And draws a rusty rapier-
He swoor by a' was swearing worth,
To speet him like a pliver,
Unless he would from that time forth,
Relinquish her for ever.

Wi' ghastly e'e, poor tweedle dee
Upon his hunkers bended,
And pray'd for grace wi' ruefu' face,
And sae the quarrel ended.
But though his little heart did grieve,
When round the tinkler prest her,
He feign'd to snirtle in his sleeve,
When thus the caird address'd her.

LEAVE ME?

Tune-" An Gille dubh ciar dhubh."

STAY, my charmer, can you leave me?
Cruel, cruel to deceive me!
Well you know how much you grieve me;
Cruel charmer, can you go?
Cruel charmer, can you go?

By my love so ill-requited;
By the faith you fondly plighted;
By the pangs of lovers slighted;
Do not, do not leave me so!
Do not, do not leave me so!

STRATHALLAN'S LAMENT.
THICKEST night o'erhangs my dwelling!
Howling tempests o'er me rave!
Turbid torrents, wintry swelling,
Still surround my lonely cave!

Chrystal streamlets gently flowing,
Busy haunts of base mankind,
Western breezes, softly blowing,
Suit not my distracted mind.
In the cause of right engaged,
Wrongs injurious to redress,
Honour's war we strongly waged,

But the heavens deny'd success.

Ruin's wheel has driven o'er us,

Not a hope that dare attend, The wide world is all before usBut a world without a friend!*

THE YOUNG HIGHLAND ROVER. Tune-" Morag."

LOUD blaw the frosty breezes,

The snaws the mountains cover; Like winter on me seizes,

Since my young highland rover Far wanders nations over. Where'er he go, where'er he stray, May heaven be his warden: Return him safe to fair Strathspey, And bonnie Castle-Gordon'

The trees now naked groaning,
Shall soon wi' leaves be hinging,
The birdies dowie moaning,

And every flower be springing.
Shall a' be blythely singing,

Strathallan, it is presumed, was one of the followers of the young Chevalier, and is supposed to be lying con. cealed in some cave of the Highlands, after the battle of Culloden. This song was written before the year

II.

At kirns and weddings we'se be there,
An' O! sae nicely's we will fare;
We'll bouse about till Daddie Care
Sings whistle o'er the lave o't.
I am, &c.

III.

Sae merrily the banes we'll pyke, An' sun oursels about the dyke, An' at our leisure, when we like, We'll whistle o'er the lave o't. I am, &c.

IV.

But bless me wi' your heaven o, charms,
And while I kittle hair on thairms,
Hunger, cauld, an' a' sick harms,
May whistle owre the lave o't.
I am, &c.

RECITATIVO.

Her charms had struck a sturdy Caird,
As weel as poor Gutscraper;
He taks the fiddler by the beard,
And draws a rusty rapier-
He swoor by a' was swearing worth,
To speet him like a pliver,
Unless he would from that time forth,
Relinquish her for ever.

Wi' ghastly e'e, poor tweedle dee
Upon his hunkers bended,
And pray'd for grace wi' ruefu' face,
And sae the quarrel ended.
But though his little heart did grieve,
When round the tinkler prest her,
He feign'd to snirtle in his sleeve,
When thus the caird address'd her.

But hurchin Cupid shot a shaft
That play'd a dame a shavie,
The fiddler rak'd her fore and aft,
Behint the chicken cavie.

Her lord, a wight o' Homer's craft,
Tho' limping with the spavie,
He hirpl'd up, and lap like daft,
An' shor'd them Daintie Davie
O boot that night.

He was a care-defying blade
As ever Bacchus listed,
Though Fortune sair upon him laid,
His heart she ever miss'd it.
He had no wish but-to be glad,
Nor want but-when he thirsted;

He hated nought but-to be sad,
And thus the Muse suggested,
His sang that night.

But lordly will, I hold it still
A moral sin to thraw that.
For a' that, &c.

IV.

In raptures sweet, this hour we meet,
Wi' mutual love an' a' that;
But for how lang the flie may stang,

Let inclination law that.

For a' that, &c.

V

Their tricks and craft have put me daft,
They've ta'en me in, an' a' that:
But clear your decks, and here's the sex!
I like the jads for a' that.

"For a' that, an' a' that,

An' twice as meikle's a' that;
My dearest bluid, to do them guid,
They're welcome till't for a' that.

RECITATIVO.

So sung the bard-and Nansie's wa's
Shook with a thunder of applause,
Re-echo'd from each mouth;

They toom'd their pocks, an' pawn'd their duds,

They scarcely left to co'er their fuds,
To quench their lowan drouth.

Then owre again, the jovial thrang,
The poet did request,

To loose his pack an' wale a sang,
A ballad o' the best :

He rising, rejoicing,

Between his twa Deborahs, Looks round him, an' found them Impatient for the chorus.

AIR.

Tune-" Jolly Mortals fill your Glasses."

I.

SEE! the smoking bowl before us, Mark our jovial ragged ring! Round and round take up the chorus, And in raptures let us sing.

CHORUS.

A fig for those by law protected!
Liberty's a glorious feast!
Courts for cowards were erected,
Churches built to please the priest.

II.

What is title? what is treasure?
What is reputation's care?
If we lead a life of pleasure,
'Tis no matter how or where!
A fig, &c.