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yon wild wossy mountains.

TUNE—“Yon wild mossy Mountains.

“This song,” says the poet, “alludes to a part of my private history which it is of no

consequence to the world to know.”

Yon wild mossy mountains sae lofty and wide,
That nurse in their bosom the youth o' the Clyde,
Where the grouse lead their coveys through the heather

to feed.

And the shepherd tends his flock as he pipes on his reed; Where the grouse lead their covey's through the heather

to feed, And the shepherd tends his flock as he pipes on his reed.

Not Gowrie's rich valleys, nor Forth's sunny shores,
To me hae the charms o' yon wild mossy moors;
For there, by a lanely, sequester'd clear stream,
Resides a sweet lassie, my thought and my dream.

For there, by a lanely, sequester'd clear stream,
Resides a sweet lassie, my thought and my dream.

Yon wild yossy Mountains.

Amang thae wild mountains shall still be my path,
Ilk stream foaming down its ain green narrow strath;
For there, wi my lassie, the day-lang I rove,
While o'er us, unheeded, flee the swift hours o' love.

For there, wi' my lassie, the day-lang I rove,
While o'er us, unheeded, flee the swift hours o' love.

She is not the fairest, although she is fair;
O' nice education but sma' is her share ;
Her parentage humble as humble can be ;
But I lo'e the dear lassie because she lo’es me.

Her parentage humble as humble can be,
But I lo'e the dear lassie because she lo'es me.

To beauty what man but maun yield him a prize,
In her armour of glances, and blushes, and sighs ?
And when wit and refinement hae polish d her darts,
They dazzle our een as they flee to our hearts.

And when wit and refinement hae polish'd her darts,
They dazzle our een as they flee to our hearts.

But kindness, sweet kindness, in the fond sparkling ee,
Has lustre outshining the diamond to me;
And the heart-beating love, as I'm clasp'd in her arms,
Oh, these are my lassie's all-conquering charms !

And the heart-beating love, as I'm clasp'd in her arms,
Oh, these are my lassie's all-conquering charms !

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CA’ the yowes to the knowes,
Ca' them whare the heather grows,
Ca' them whare the burnie rowes,

My bonny dearie!

Hark the mavis' evening sang
Sounding Cluden's woods amang!
Then a-faulding let us gang,

My bonny dearie.

Ca’ the Yowes.

We'll gae down by Cluden side, Through the hazels spreading wide, O’er the waves that sweetly glide,

To the moon sae clearly.

Yonder Cluden's silent towers,
Where at moonshine midnight hours,
O'er the dewy bending flowers,

Fairies dance sae cheery.

Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear; Thou’rt to love and heaven sae dear, Nocht of ill may come thee near,

My bonny dearie.

Fair and lovely as thou art,
Thou hast stown my very heart;
I can die- but canna part-

My bonny dearie!

Countrie Lassie.

TUNE—The Country Lass.,

In simmer, when the hay was mawn,

And corn waved green in ilka field, While clover blooms white o'er the lea,

And roses blaw in ilka bield: Blithe Bessie in the milking shiel

Says, “ I'll be wed, come o't what will : Out spak a dame in wrinkled eild

“O'guid advisement comes nae ill.

" It's ye hae wooers mony ane,

And, lassie, ye're but young, ye ken; Then wait a wee, and cannie wale

A routhie butt, a routhie ben: There's Johnnie o' the Buskie Glen,

Fu' is his barn, fu’ is his byre ; Tak this frae me, my bonny hen,

It's plenty beats the luver's fire."

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