The Scottish songs - National Library of Scotland
The Scottish songs - National Library of Scotland The Scottish songs - National Library of Scotland
628 Gie Ijer sail, gie her sail, till slie buries her wale, Gie her sail, boys, while it may sit She has roared through a heavier sea before, And she'll roar through a heavier yet !" THE FORAY. SIR WALTER SCOTT. The last of our steers on the board has been spread, And the last flask of wine in our goblets is red Up, up, my brave kinsmen I—belt swords and begone ; There are dangers to dare, and there's spoil to be won ! The eyes that so lately mixed glances with ours, For a space must be dim, as they gaze fi'om the towers, And strive to distinguish, through tempest and gloom, The prance of the steeds and the top of the plume. The rain is descending, the wind rises loud. The moon her red beacon has veiled with a cloud 'Tis the better, my mates, for the warder's dull eye : : — ; ; : Shall in confidence slumber, nor dream we are nigh. Our steeds are impatient—I hear my blythe grey There is life in his hoof-clang and hope in his neigh Like the flash of a meteor, the glance of his mane Shall marshal your march through the darkness and rain. The draw-bridge has dropped, and the bugle has blown One pledge is to quaff yet—then mount and begone To their honour and peace that shall rest with the slain To their health and their glee that see Teviot again I ! ;
629 TAM O' THE BALLOCH. H. AINSLIE. Tune— The Camplells are coming. In the Nick o' the Balloch lived Muirland Tam, Weel stentit wi' brochan and braxie-ham ; A breist like a buird, and a back like a door, And a wapping wame that hung down afore. But what's come ower ye, Muirland Tam ? For your leg's now grown like a wheel-barrow tram Your ee it's faun in— your nose it's faun out, And the skin o' your cheek's like a dirty clout. ance, like a yaud, ye spankit the bent, Wi' a fecket sae fou, and a stocking sae stent, The strength o' a stot—the wecht o' a cow Now, Tammy, my man, ye're grown like a grew. 1 mind sin' the blink o' a canty quean Could watered your mou and lichtit your een ; Now ye leuk like a yowe, when ye should be a ram ; O what can be wrang wi' ye, Muirland Tam ? Has some dowg o' the yirth set your gear abreed ? Hae they broken your heart or broken your head ? Hae they rackit wi' rungs or kittled wi' steel ? Or, Tammy, my man, hae ye seen the deil ? Wha ance was your match at a stoup and a tale ? Wi' a voice like a sea, and a drouth like a whale ? Now ye peep like a powt ye glumph and ye gaunt ; Oh, Tammy, my man;, are ye turned a saunt ? 3 g2 ; ; ;
- Page 278 and 279: 578 And Katie never did repent That
- Page 280 and 281: 580 THE DEY'S SONG.* ROBERT JAMIESO
- Page 282 and 283: 582 THE QUERN-LILT* ROBERT JAMIESON
- Page 284 and 285: 584, ; ; ; : ; And where's the ring
- Page 286 and 287: 586 You may esteem him A child for
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- Page 290 and 291: 590 ROBIN SHURE IN HAIRST, BURNS. T
- Page 292 and 293: 592 It's gude to be aff wi' the aul
- Page 294 and 295: 594 IN YON GARDEN. Tune—/;? yon g
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- Page 298 and 299: 598 JOCKEY FOU, AND JENNY FAIN. Tun
- Page 300 and 301: 600 But hawks will rob the tender j
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- Page 304 and 305: 604 THE WEDDING DAY. : ; ! Tune—H
- Page 306 and 307: 606 ! ; Rattlin roarin Willie Was s
- Page 308 and 309: 60S When the drums do beat, And the
- Page 310 and 311: 610 — DONALD COUPER, TviHT:—-Do
- Page 312 and 313: 612 They'll fright the fuds of the
- Page 314 and 315: 614 The farmer toils, the merchant
- Page 316 and 317: 616 As Susie, vvi' a' her peailiiis
- Page 318 and 319: 618 ; ; ; UP IN THE MORNING EARLY.
- Page 320 and 321: 620 There you'll see the bauld M'Cr
- Page 322 and 323: 622 Think of this, and rise with da
- Page 324 and 325: 624 ; ; The deevil he swore by tlie
- Page 326 and 327: 626 Thy ilka sport manly gave pleas
- Page 330 and 331: 630 Come, lowse your heart, ye man
- Page 332 and 333: 632 Ye violets, that first appear.
- Page 334 and 335: 634 THE FLOWER O' DUNBLANE. TANNAHI
- Page 336 and 337: 636 THE BONNY SCOT, RAMSAY. Tune—
- Page 338 and 339: 638 For Murray's light horse are to
- Page 340 and 341: 640 And there will be trusty Kirroc
- Page 342 and 343: 642 THERE'S NEWS, LASSES. BURNS. Th
- Page 344 and 345: 644- I'Jl count my health my greate
- Page 346 and 347: 646 He's courtit fav ower mony lass
- Page 348 and 349: 648 A SOUTH-SEA SONG* RAMSAY. Tune
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- Page 352 and 353: 652 ; : ; My dochter ye shall hae,
- Page 354 and 355: 654 WILLIE WINKIE'S TESTAMENT. Tune
- Page 356 and 357: O I 656 gladness conies to many, Bu
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- Page 362 and 363: 662 Sell hawkie, minnie, And buy th
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- Page 366 and 367: 666 But Cockleferry bears the gree
- Page 368 and 369: 668 Tune—J'oy gaed down the loani
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- Page 374 and 375: 674 I trow, thou be a feck auld cai
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628<br />
Gie Ijer sail, gie her sail, till slie buries her wale,<br />
Gie her sail, boys, while it may sit<br />
She has roared through a heavier sea before,<br />
And she'll roar through a heavier yet !"<br />
THE FORAY.<br />
SIR WALTER SCOTT.<br />
<strong>The</strong> last <strong>of</strong> our steers on the board has been spread,<br />
And the last flask <strong>of</strong> wine in our goblets is red<br />
Up, up, my brave kinsmen I—belt swords and begone ;<br />
<strong>The</strong>re are dangers to dare, and there's spoil to be won !<br />
<strong>The</strong> eyes that so lately mixed glances with ours,<br />
For a space must be dim, as they gaze fi'om the towers,<br />
And strive to distinguish, through tempest and gloom,<br />
<strong>The</strong> prance <strong>of</strong> the steeds and the top <strong>of</strong> the plume.<br />
<strong>The</strong> rain is descending, the wind rises loud.<br />
<strong>The</strong> moon her red beacon has veiled with a cloud<br />
'Tis the better, my mates, for the warder's dull eye<br />
:<br />
:<br />
— ; ; :<br />
Shall in confidence slumber, nor dream we are nigh.<br />
Our steeds are impatient—I hear my blythe grey<br />
<strong>The</strong>re is life in his ho<strong>of</strong>-clang and hope in his neigh<br />
Like the flash <strong>of</strong> a meteor, the glance <strong>of</strong> his mane<br />
Shall marshal your march through the darkness and rain.<br />
<strong>The</strong> draw-bridge has dropped, and the bugle has blown<br />
One pledge is to quaff yet—then mount and begone<br />
To their honour and peace that shall rest with the slain<br />
To their health and their glee that see Teviot again I<br />
! ;