And when the welcome simmer shower
Has cheered ilk drooping little flower,
We'll to the breathing woodbine bower
At sultry noon, my dearie O.

When Cynthia lights, wi' silver ray,
The weary shearer's hameward way,
Through yellow waving fields we'll stray,
And talk o' love, my dearie O.

And when the howling wintry blast
Disturbs my lassie's midnight rest,
Enclasped to my faithful breast,
I'll comfort thee, my dearie O.

summer

each

homeward

O Willy, aye I bless the grove

Where first I owned my maiden love,

Whilst thou didst pledge the powers above
To be my ain dear Willy.

HE.

stolen

Let fortune's wheel at random rin,

And fools may tyne, and knaves may win;
My thoughts are a' bound up in ane,
And that's my ain dear Philly.

SHE.

What's a' the joys that gowd can gie?

I care na wealth a single flie;
The lad I love's the lad for me,
And that's my ain dear Willy.

CONTENTED WI' LITTLE.
TUNE-Lumps o' Pudding.

run lose

one

gold, give not

merry, more meet

give, stroke, along bowl, ale

sometimes scratch soldier, fight

CONTENTED wi' little, and cantie wi' mair,
Whene'er I forgather wi' sorrow and care,
I gie them a skelp as they're creepin' alang,
Wi'a cog o'guid swats, and an auld Scottish sang.
I whiles claw the elbow o' troublesome thought;
But man is a sodger, and life is a faught:
My mirth and good-humour are coin in my pouch,
And my freedom's my lairdship nae monarch dare touch.
A towmond o' trouble, should that be my fa',
A night o' guid-fellowship sowthers it a':
When at the blithe end of our journey at last,
What MAN ever thinks o' the road he has past?

Blind Chance, let her snapper and stoyte on her way;
Be't to me, be't frae me, e'en let the jade gae:
Come ease, or come travail; come pleasure, or pain,
My warst word is: "Welcome, and welcome again!"

pocket

no

year, fate good, solders

[totter stumble,

from, go

CANST THOU LEAVE ME THUS MY KATY?

TUNE-Roy's Wife.

CHORUS.

CANST thou leave me thus, my Katy?
Canst thou leave me thus, my Katy?
Well thou know'st my aching heart,
And canst thou leave me thus for pity?

worst

Is this thy plighted, fond regard,
Thus cruelly to part, my Katy?
Is this thy faithful swain's reward-
An aching, broken heart, my Katy?
Farewell! and ne'er such sorrows tear
That fickle heart of thine, my Katy!
Thou may'st find those will love thee dear-
But not a love like mine, my Katy.

FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT.

Is there, for honest poverty,

That hangs his head, and a' that!
The coward slave we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a' that!
For a' that, and a' that,

Our toils obscure, and a' that;
The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The man's the gowd for a' that!

What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin gray, and a' that;

Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,

A man's a man for a' that!

For a' that, and a' that,

Their tinsel show, and a' that;

The honest man, though e'er sae poor,

Is king o' men for a' that!

Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord,

Wha struts, and stares, and a' that; Though hundreds worship at his word, He's but a coof for a' that:

For a' that, and a' that,

His ribbon, star, and a' that;
The man of independent mind,
He looks and laughs at a' that.

A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, and a' that;
But an honest man's aboon his might,
Guid faith, he maunna fa' that!

For a' that, and a' that,

Their dignities, and a' that;

The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth,
Are higher rank than a' that.

young fellow

who

fool

above

attempt

supremacy

world

O LASSIE, ART THOU SLEEPING YET?
TUNE-Let me in this ae Night.

O LASSIE, art thou sleeping yet?
Or art thou wakin', I would wit?
For love has bound me hand and foot,
And I would fain be in, jo.

CHORUS.

O let me in this ae night,
This ae, ae, ae night;
For pity's sake this ae night,

O rise and let me in, jo!

Thou hear'st the winter wind and weet,

Nae star blinks through the driving sleet;
Tak pity on my weary feet,

And shield me frae the rain, jo.

The bitter blast that round me blaws
Unheeded howls, unheeded fa's;
The cauldness o' thy heart's the cause
Of a' my grief and pain, jo.

Her Answer.

O TELL na me o' wind and rain,
Upbraid na me wi' cauld disdain;
Gae back the gait ye cam again-
I winna let ye in, jo!

CHORUS.

I tell you now this ae night,
This ae, ae, ae night;
And ance for a' this ae night,
I winna let you in, jo!

ore

wet

no

from

blows

falls

coldness

not

go, way, came

once

The snellest blast, at mirkest hours,

keenest, darkest

nought

That round the pathless wanderer pours,
Is nocht to what poor she endures,
That's trusted faithless man, jo.

The sweetest flower that decked the mead,
Now trodden like the vilest weed;

Let simple maid the lesson read,

The weird may be her ain, jo.

The bird that charmed his summer-day,
Is now the cruel fowler's prey;

Let witless, trusting woman say

How aft her fate's the same, jo!

fate, own

oft

For a' that, and a' that,
Here's Heron yet for a' that!
A lord may be a STUPID loun,
Wi' ribbon, star, and a' that.

A beardless boys comes o'er the hills,
Wi' uncle's purse and a' that,
But we'll hae ane frae 'mang oursels,
A man we ken, and a' that.

For a' that, and a' that,

Here's Heron yet for a' that!

For we're not to be bought and sold,

fellow

one from

know

Like naigs, and nowt, and a' that. horses, cattle

Then let us drink the Stewartry,
Kerroughtree's laird, and a' that,

Our representative to be,

For weel he's worthy a' that.

For the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright.
Mr Heron, the Whig candidate.
The Earl of Selkirk.

(of Kirkcudbright)

§ Mr Gordon of Balmaghie, Tory candidate.

Mr Murray of Broughton.