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I hied me hame to my father's ha',
My dear auld mither to see;
But she lay 'mang the black eizels,
Wi' the death-tear in her e'e,

O wha has wrought this bloody wark?
Had I the reaver here,

I'd wash his sark in his ain heart's blood,
And gie't to his love to wear.

I hadna gane frae my ain dear hame
But twa short miles and three,
Till up came a captain o' the whigs,
Says, Traitor, bide ye me!

I grippet him by the belt sae braid,
It bursted i' my hand,

But I threw him frae his weir-saddle,
And drew my burly brand.

Shaw mercy on me! quo' the loon,

And low he knelt on knee;

And by his thigh was my father's glaive
Which gude King Bruce did gi'e;
And buckled round him was the broider'd belt
Which my mither's hands did weave-
My tears they mingled wi' his heart's blood,
And reek'd upon my glaive.

I wander a' night 'mang the lands I own'd,
When a' folk are asleep;

And I lie o'er my father and mither's grave

An hour or twa to weep.
O, fatherless and mitherless,

Without a ha' or hame,

I maun wander through my dear Scotland,
And bide a traitor's name.

This song is copied from Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, where it first appeared; it has since found its way into many collections. Mr. Hogg admitted it into the Jacobite Relics, accompanied by such praise of the author as I would rather allude to than quote. It would be uncandid to say such praise is unwelcome; for the praise of a man of original genius will always be considered by the world as an acceptable thing, and I am willing to acknowledge its value. The song contains no imaginary picture of Jacobite suffering: tradition still tells a similar tale of a Galloway gentleman, and points out the banks of the water of Dee as the scene of his single combat with the spoiler of his house.

LEWIE GORDON.

O send Lewie Gordon hame,
And the lad I darena name!

Tho' his back be at the wa',
Here's to him that's far awa.
Ohon, my highlandman!
O my bonny highlandman!
Weel wad I my true love ken
Amang ten thousand highlandmen.

O to see his tartan trews,

Bonnet blue, and laigh heel'd shoes, Philabeg aboon his knee

That's the lad that I'll gang wi'!

The princely youth that I do mean
Is fitted for to be a king;

On his breast he wears a star-
You'd take him for the god of war.

O to see this princely one
Seated on his father's throne!
Disasters a' wad disappear,
Then begins the jub’lee year.
Ohon, my highlandman!
O my bonny highlandman!
Weel wad I my true love ken
Amang ten thousand highlandmen.

This is a very popular song, and is imagined to be written by Mr. Geddes, priest at Shenval in the Enzie, on Lord Lewis Gordon, third son of the Duke of Gordon, who raised a rebel regiment in 1745, defeated the Macleods and took possession of Perth. He escaped from the field of Culloden, was attainted by Parliament in 1746, and died at Montreuil in France, in the year 1754. "The lad I darena name" was Prince Charles Stuart.

IT'S HAME AND IT'S HAME.

It's hame and its hame, hame fain would I be,
O, hame, hame, hame to my ain countree!

There's an eye that ever weeps, and a fair face will be

fain,

As I pass through Annan-water with my bonnie bands

again;

When the flower is in the bud, and the leaf upon the

tree,

The lark shall sing me hame in my ain countree.

It's hame and its hame, hame fain would I be, O hame, hame, hame to my ain countree! The green leaf of loyalty's beginning for to fa', The bonnie white rose it is withering and a',

But I'll water't with the blood of usurping tyrannie,

And green it will grow

in my

ain countrce.

It's hame and it's hame, hame fain would I be,
O hame, hame, hame to my ain countree!
There's nought now from ruin my country can save
But the keys of kind heaven to open the grave,
That all the noble martyrs who died for loyaltie
May rise again and fight for their ain countree.

It's hame and it's hame, hame fain would I be, O hame, hame, hame to my ain countree! The great now are gane, a' who ventured to save; The new grass is growing aboon their bloody grave; But the sun through the mirk blinks blithe in my e'e, I'll shine on ye yet in your ain countree.

This song is noticed in the introduction to the "Fortunes of Nigel," and part of it is sung by Richie Moniplies. It is supposed to come from the lips of a Scottish Jacobite exile. The old song of the same name had a similar chorus, and one good verse. Against the British fleet, which was then-and may it ever continue !-master of the sea, the poet prayed for very effectual aid :

May the ocean stop and stand, like walls on every side, That our gallant chiefs may pass, wi' heaven for their guide!

Dry up the Forth and Tweed, as thou didst the Red

Sea,

When the Israelites did pass to their ain countree.

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