THE BANKS OF ALLAN WATER. M. G. Lewis. On the banks of Allan water, When the sweet spring time did fall, Was the miller's lovely daughter, Fairest of them all. For his bride a soldier sought her, On the banks of Allan Water, When brown autumn spreads its store For the summer grief had brought her, On the banks of Allan Water But the miller's lovely daughter Both from cold and care was free; On the banks of Allan water There a corse lay she, THE BANKS OF LOCH LOMOND. Old Scottish Song. By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes, And I'll be in Scotland afore ye; But me and my true love will never meet again, On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch 'Twas there that we parted in yon shady glen, The wee birdies sing and the wild flowers spring, Though the waeful may cease frae their greeting, THE BAY OF BISCAY. Loud roared the dreadful thunder, Till next day-there she lay Now dashed upon the billow At length the wish'd for morrow As she lay all the day, &c. The yielding timbers sever, We hail her with three cheers- THE BLUE BELLS OF SCOTLAND. "O! where, and O! where is your Highland laddie gone? ()! where, and O! where is your Highland laddie gone?" "He's gone to fight the French, for King George upon the throne; And it's O! in my heart, I wish him safe at home. He's gone to fight," &c. "O! where, and O! where did your Highland laddie dwell? O! where, and O! where did your Highland laddie dwell? " He dwelt in merry Scotland, at the sign of the And it's O! in my heart, I love my laddie well. "In what clothes, in what clothes is your Highland laddie clad? In what clothes, in what clothes is your Highland laddie clad?" His bonnet's of the Saxon green, his waistcoat's of the plaid; And it's O! in my heart, I love my Highland lad. His bonnet's of the Saxon," &c. Suppose, and suppose that your Highland lad should die ! Suppose, and suppose that your Highland lad should die!" "The bagpipes should play o'er him-I'd sit me down and cry; And it's in my heart, I wish he may not die. The bagpipes should play," &c. BONNY DUNDEE. Sir W. Scott. To the Lords of Convention 'twas Claverhouse spoke, "Ere the king's crown shall fall, there are crowns to be broke; "So let each cavalier who loves honour and me, "Come follow the bonnet of Bonny Dundee. 46 Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can, Come saddle your horses, and call up your men ; "Unhook the West Port, and let me gang free, "For it's up with the bonnets of Bonny Dundee." Dundee he is mounted, he rides up the street, The bells are rung backward, the drums they are beat; But the Provost, douce man, said, "him be, 'Just e'en let "The gude town is weel quit of that Deil of "Dundee." 64 "Come fill up my cup," &c. There are hills beyond Pentland, and lands beyond Forth; "If there's lords in the lowlands, there's chiefs in "the North; "There are wild Duinewassels, three thousand times "Will cry 'Hoigh!' for the bonnet of Bonny Dundee. "Come fill up my cup," &c. " Away to the hills, to the caves, to the rocks; Ere I own a usurper, I'll couch with the fox; "And tremble, false Whigs, in the midst of your "glee, "You have nae seen the last of my bonnet and me, "Come fill up my cup," &c. |