THE MASSACRE OF M'PHERSON.

Phairson swore a feud

Against the clan M'Tavish;
Marched into their land

To murder and to rafish ;
For he did resolve

To extirpate the vipers,
With four-and-twenty men,
And five-and-thirty pipers.

Yhic yac yow,
Yhic yac yowi,
Yhic yac yow,

Yhic yac yowi.

But when he had gone

Half way down Strath Canaan, Of his fighting tail

Just three were remaining;

They were all he had,

To back him in ta battle,

All the rest had gone

Off, to drive ta cattle.
Yhic yac yow, &c.

"Coot day to you, sir, "Are you not ta Phairson ? "Was you coming here "To fisit any person? "You're a plackguard, sir! "It is now six hundred "Coot long years, and more, Since my glen was plundered!' Yhic yac yow, &c.

"Fat is tat you say?

Dare you cock your peaver?

"I will teach you, sir,

Fat is coot pehaviour !

You shall not exist

For another day more;

I will shoot you, sir,

Or stap you with my claymore!
Yhic yac yow, &c.

"I am fery glad

"To learn what you mention,
Since I can prevent

Any such intention."

So Mic-Mac-Methusa lah

Gave three warlike howls,
Drew his skian-dhu

And stuck it in his powels.
Yhic yac yow, &c.

In this fery way

Fell ta faliant Phairson,

Who was always thought
A superior person.

Phairson had a son

Who married Noah's daughter,

And almost spoilt the flood

By drinking up ta water:

Yhic yac yow, &c.

Which he would have done,
I at least pelieve it,
Had ta mixture peen
Only half Glenlivet.
This is all my tale;

Sirs, I hope 'tis new t'ye! Here's your fery good healths, And hang ta whusky duty! Yhic yac yow, &c.

MEN OF HARLECH.

Harlech was held for the Lancastrians by a native hero and? resisted Edward IVth during a long siege.]

Men of Harlech! flags are streaming,
Hostile arms in sunshine gleaming,
All the air with shouts is teeming,
In the morning light.

Swell as loud your battle crying,
Fling as free your pennons flying,
Scornfully the foe defying,

Forward to the fight!

Let the fathers olden,

Who the land have holden,
Let the name of former fame
Each lofty heart embolden.
By all luckless lands enslaved,
By all lands the sword hath savéd,
By our homes and good Saint David;
Forward to the fight!

Men of Harlech ! tell the hoary
Ancient hills, all steeped in glory,
Tell them yet another story,
Show another sight.

Veteran chiefs,-they watch your bearing,
Watch your doing and your daring,
All your shame or glory sharing,

Forward to the fight!

Let your shouts and singing
Sound with endless ringing,

Through the vales, whence burdened gales

That tempest tide are bringing,

Till the echoes catch the chorus

That our fathers sang before us
And the heavens repeat it o'er us,-

44

Britons to the fight!"

THE MERMAID.

Oh! 'twas on the broad Atlantic,
In the equinoctial gales,
That a young fellow fell overboard
Among the sharks and whales;
He fell right down so quickly,

So headlong down fell he,

That he went out of sight like a streak of light,
To the bottom of the deep blue sea.

Singing, Rule Britannia!
Britannia rules the waves,

And Britons never, never, never shall be
slaves.

The boats went out to look after him

And we thought to find his corse,

When he came to the top with a bang, and sang With a voice sepulchrally hoarse,

"Oh, my comrades and messmates all,

Pray do not grieve for me,

For I'm marr-i-ed to a mer-ma-id

At the bottom of the deep blue sea."
Singing, Rule, &c.

In my chest my twelve months' pay you'll find, "Likewise a lock of hair,

"And this locket from my neck you'll give

Unto my father dear:

My carte-de-visite to my grandmother take,

Tell her not to take on about me,

"For I'm marr-i-ed to a mer-ma-id

"At the bottom of the deep blue sea." Singing, Rule, &c.