In the morning soon, when I came down,
The ne'er a word she spake,
But monie a sad and sour look,
And aye her head she'd shake.
My dear, quoth I, what aileth thee,
To look sae sour on me?
I'll never do the like again,
If ye'll ne'er tak' the gee.
When that she heard, she ran, shy flang
Her arms about my neck;
And twenty kisses in a crack,
And, poor wee thing, she grat.
If ye'll ne'er do the like again,
But bide at hame wi' me,
I'll lay my life I'se be the wife
That's never tak' the gee.
Roy's Wife.
[Sometimes erroneously ascribed to the late Mrs. Grant of Laggan. The authoress was Mrs. Grant of Carron, near Elchies, on the river Spey, afterwards married to Dr. Murray of Bath. She was born near Aberlour about 1745, and died about 1814.]
Roy's wife of Aldivalloch,
Roy's wife of Aldivalloch,
Wat ye how she cheated me,
As I cam' o'er the braes of Balloch?
She vow'd, she swore she wad be mine;
She said she lo'ed me best of onie;
But ah! the fickle, faithless quean,
She's ta'en the carle, and left her Johnnie.
Roy's wife, &c.
O, she was a cantie quean,
Weel could she dance the Highland walloch,
How happy I, had she been mine,
Or I been Boy of Aldivalloch.
Roy's wife, &c.
Her hair sae fair, her een sae clear,
Her wee bit mou' sae sweet and bonnie;
To me she ever will be dear,
Though she's for ever left her Jolmnie.
Roy's wife, &c.
Highland Minstrel Boy.
[Written by Harry Stoe Van Dyk, author of a volume of poems published a dozen years ago, entitled, "The Coronal." Bet to music by John Barnett.]
I ha'e wander'd mony a night in June,
Along the banks of Clyde,
Beneath a bright and bonnie moon,
Wi' Mary at my side:
A summer w.is she to mine e'e,
And to my heart a joy,
And weel she loo'd to roam wi' me,
Her Highland minstrel boy.
Oh, her presence could on ev'ry star
New brilliancy confer,
And I thought the flow'rs were sweeter far,
When they were seen with her:
Her brow was calm as sleeping sea,
Her glance was full o' joy,
And oh, her heart was true to me,
Her Highland minstrel boy.
I ha'e play'd to ladies fair and gay,
In mony a southron hall;
But there was one far far away,
A world above them all.
And now, though weary years have fled,
I think wi' mournful joy,
Upon the time when Mary wed
Her Highland minstrel boy.
My Highland home.
[Words by Morton. Music composed by Henry. R. Bishop.]
My Highland home, where tempests blow,
And cold thy wintry looks,
Thy mountains crown'd with driven snow,
And ice-bound are thy brooks!
But colder far the Briton's heart,
However far he roam,
To whom these words no joy impart,
My native Highland home.
