O what is't that pits my poor heart in a flutter? Then what gars me wish onie better to be? Nae wonder the tear fa's sae fast frae my ee. Wi' the rest o' my claes I hae row'd up the ribbon, The bonnie blue ribbon that Jamie ga'e me: Yestreen when he ga’e meʼt, and saw I was sabbin', I'll never forget the wae blink o' his ee. Tho' now he said naething, but Fare ye weel, Lucy! It made me I neither could speak, hear, nor see: He could na say mair, but just Fare ye weel, Lucy! Yet that I will mind to the day that I die. The lamb likes the gowan wi' dew when it's droukit ; The hare likes the brake, and the braird on the lee; But Lucy likes Jamie ;-she turn'd and she lookit; She thought the dear place she wad never mair see. Ah! weel may young Jamie gang dowie and cheerless, And weel may he greet on the bank o' the burn! His bonnie sweet Lucy, sae gentle and peerless, Lies cauld in her grave, and will never return. DONALD CAIRD. SIR WALTER SCOTT. Donald Caird can lilt and sing, Or crack a pow wi' ony man:- Donald Caird can wire a maukin, To shoot a moor-fowl in the drift: He can wauk when they are sleepers ;- Donald Caird can drink a gill Kens how Donald bends a bicker: When he's fou, he's stout and saucy, Keeps the cantle o' the causey; Highland chief and Lowland laird Maun gie room to Donald Caird. Steek the aumrie, lock the kist, On Donald Caird the doom was stern, YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND. THOMAS CAMPBELL, ESQ. Ye mariners of England! Who guard our native seas; Whose flag has brav'd, a thousand years, To match another foe! And sweep through the deep, While the stormy tempests blow; While the battle rages loud and long, For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave: While the stormy tempests blow: While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy tempests blow. Britannia needs no bulwark, No towers along the steep; Her march is o'er the mountain waves, She quells the floods below- When the stormy tempests blow; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy tempests blow. The meteor flag of England Till danger's troubled night depart, And the star of peace return. Then, then, ye ocean warriors! Our song and feast shall flow To the fame of your name, When the storm has ceased to blow ; When the fiery fight is heard no more, And the storm has ceas'd to blow. |