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For ganging hame, I heard them say,
They lik'd a walk so sweet.
Blythe Davie's blinks, &c.
His cheeks to her's he fondly laid;
She cried, Sweet love be true;
And when a wife, as now a maid,
To death I'll follow you.
Blythe Davie's blinks, &c.
As fate had dealt to him a routh,
Straight to the kirk he led her;
There plighted her his faith and truth,
And a bonny bride he made her.
Nonnore asbam'd to own her love,
Or speak her mind thus free;
Gang down the burn, Davie, love,
And I will follow thee.
THE MEETING OF THE WATERS.
There is not, in this wide world, a valley so sweet
As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet;
