KENMURE'S ON AND AWA, WILLIE.

Kenmure's on and awa, Willie,
Kenmure's on and awa;

And Kenmure's lord is the bravest lord
That ever Galloway saw.
Success to Kenmure's band, Willie,
Success to Kenmure's band;
There's no a heart that fears a Whig
That rides by Kenmure's hand.

O, Kenmure's lads are men, Willie,
O, Kenmure's lads are men;
Their hearts and swords are metal true,
And that their faes shall ken.
They'll live and die wi' fame, Willie,
They'll live and die wi' fame;

And soon wi' sound of victory

May Kenmure's lads come hame.

Here's Kenmure's health in wine, Willie,
Here's Kenmure's health in wine;

There ne'er was a coward of Kenmure's blood,
Nor yet of Gordon's line.

His lady's cheek grew red, Willie,

Syne white as sifted snaw:

There rides my lord, a Gordon gude,
The flower of Gallowa.

There's a rose in Kenmure's cap,

A bright sword in his handA hundred Gordons at his side, And hey for English land!

Willie,

Here's him that's far awa, Willie,

Here's him that's far awa;

And here's the flower that I love best,

The rose that's like the snaw.

[Much of this song is as old as the time it relates to. There are some happy touches by Burns in it, and also by Mr. Cunningham.]

CARLE, AN THE KING COME.

Carle, an the king come

Carle, an the king come,

Thou shalt dance, and I will sing,
Carle, an the king come.
An somebody were come again,
Then somebody maun cross the main ;
And ev'ry man shall hae his ain,
Carle, an the king come.

I trow we swappit for the worse,
We ga'e the boot and better horse;
And that we'll tell them at the cross,
Carle, an the king come.

When yellow corn grows on the rigs,
And gibbets stand to hang the Whigs,
O then we'll a' dance Scottish jigs,
Carle, an the king come.

Nae mair wi' pinch and drouth we'll dine,
As we ha'e done—a dog's propine,

But quaff our waughts o' rosie wine,

Carle, an the king come.

Cogie, an the king come,
Cogie, an the king come,

I'se be fou, and thou'se be toom.
Cogie, an the king come.

[It is needless to point out the tendency of this song and others, even to the southern reader.]

THE JACOBITE MUSTER ROLL.

Duncan's coming, Donald's coming,
Colin's coming, Ronald's coming,
Dugald's coming, Lachlan's coming,
Alister and a's coming.

Little wat ye wha's coming—
Jock, and Tam, and a's coming.

Borland and his men's coming,
Cameron and M'Lean's coming,
Gordon and M'Gregor's coming,
Ilka Dunywastle's coming-

Little wat ye wha's coming,
M'Gillavry and a's coming.

Wigton's coming, Nithsdale's coming,
Carnwath's coming, Kenmure's coming,
Derwentwater and Foster's coming,
Withrington and Nairn's coming-
Little wat ye wha's coming,

Blythe Cowhill and a's coming.

The laird of M'Intosh is coming,
M'Crabie and M'Donald's coming,
M'Kenzie and M'Pherson's coming,
And the wild M'Craws are coming-
Little wat ye wha's coming,
Donald Gun and a's coming.

They gloom, they glour, they look sae hig,
At ilka stroke they'll fell a Whig ;
They'll fright the fuds of the pockpuds,
For many a buttock bare's coming-
Little wat ye wha's coming,

Jock, and Tam, and a's coming.

[Written, it is supposed, about the time of Marr's march to Sheriffmuir.]

LASSIE, LIE NEAR ME.

Lang ha'e we parted been,

Lassie, my dearie;

Now we are met again,

Lassie, lie near me.

Near me, near me,

Lassie, lie near me;

Lang hast thou lain thy lane,

Lassie, lie near me.

Frae dread Culloden's field,

Bloody and dreary,

Mourning my country's fate,
Lanely and weary;

VOL. IT.

L

Weary, weary,

Lanely and weary;

Become a sad banish'd wight,
Far frae my dearie.

Loud, loud the wind did roar,

Stormy and eerie,

Far frae my native shore,

Far frae my dearie.

Near me, near me,

Dangers stood near me;
Now I've escap'd them a',
Lassie, lie near me.

A' that I ha'e endur'd,

Lassie, my dearie,

Here in thine arms is cur'd—

Lassic, lie near me.

Near me, near me,

Lassie, lie near me;

Lang hast thou lain thy lan,
Lassie, lie near me.

[The first and last verses from the third volume of Johnson's Musical Museum, 1790; the other lines are from Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, 1810., It is not always safe to quote the latter work as an authority for old song, but in this place the Editor has reason to know he is giving genuine Jacobitical verses. Robert Chambers has strangely placed the name of Dr. Blacklock to the verses of this song quoted from Johnson.]