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Their groves o' sweet myrtle let foreign lands reckon,

Where bright-beaming summers exalt their perfume; Far dearer to me yon lone glen o green breckan,

Withe burn stealing under the lang yellow broom :

Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowers,

Where the blue-bell and gowan lurk lowly unseen ; For there, lightly tripping amang the wild flowers,

A-listening the linnet, aft wanders my Jean.

Though rich is the breeze in their gay sunny valleys,

And cauld Caledonia's blast on the wave;
Their sweet-scented woodlands that skirt the proud palace,

What are they?- The haunt o' the tyrant and slave !

The slave's spicy forests, and gold-bubbling fountains,

The brave Caledonian views wi' disdain ;
He wanders as free as the winds of his mountains,

Save Love's willing fetters—the chains o' his Jean.

Dh, wert thou in the Cauld Blast.

OH, wert thou in the cauld blast

On yonder lea, on yonder lea, My plaidie to the angry airt,

I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee : Or did Misfortune's bitter storms

Around thee blaw, around thee blaw, Thy bield should be my bosom,

To share it a', to share it a'.

Or were I in the wildest waste,

Sae bleak and bare, sae bleak and bare, The desert were a paradise,

If thou wert there, if thou wert there : Or were I monarch o' the globe,

Wi' thee to reign, wi' thee to reign, The brightest jewel in my crown

Wad be my queen, wad be my queen.


Dialogue on marriage.


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A flowery howm, between twa verdant braes,
Where Jasses used to wash and spread their claes,
A trottin' burnie whimpling through the ground,
Its channel peebles, shining, smooth and round :
llere view twa barefoot beauties, clean and clear ;
First please your eye, then gratisy your ear :
While Jenny what she wishes discommends,
And Meg, wi' better sense, true love defends.

Jenny. Come, Meg, let's fa’ to wark upon this green,
This shining day will bleach our linen clean;
The water clear, the lift's unclouded blue,
Will mak them like a lily wet wi' dew.

Peggy. Gae farer up the burn to Habbie's How,
Where a' the sweets o' spring an' simmer grow;
Between twa birks, out o'er a little linn,
The water fa's and maks a singin' din :
A pool breast-deep beneath as clear as glass,
Kisses with easy whirls the bord'ring grass.
We'll end our washing while the morning's cool,
And when the day grows het, we'll to the pool ;
There wash oursels-'tis healthfu' now in May,
And sweetly cauler on sae warm a day.

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