For 'twad seem that the hale race o' men,
Or wi' safety, the ha'f we may mak' it,
Ha'e some speaking happer within,
That says aye to them, Tak' it, man, tak' it.
Then hey for the mill, &c.
Campsie Glen.
[James Lawson, formerly of Glasgow, now of New York.—Tune, "Kelvin Grove."—Campsie Glen is a beautiful valley near the village or clachan of Campsie in Stirlingshire, rich in geological and botanical treasures, and enlivened by a cascade or waterfall. It is situated about ten miles north of Glasgow, and forms a fevourite summer-day resort to the inhabitants of that city.]
Let us owre to Campsie Glen, bonnie lassie, O,
By the dingle that you ken, bonnie lassie, O,
To the tree where first we woo'd,
And cut our names so rude,
Deep in the sauch-tree's wood, bonnie lassie, O.
O'er the willow brig we'll wend, bonnie lassie, O,
And the ladders we'U ascend, bonnie Lissie, O,
Where the woodroof loves to hide
Its scented leaves, beside
The streamlets, as they glide, bonnie lassie, O.
Where the blue bell on the brae, bonnie lassie, O,
Where the sweetest scented slae, bonnie lassie, O,
And the flow'rets ever new,
Of nature's painting true,
All fragrant bloom for you, bonnie lassie, O.
Where the music of the wood, bonnie Lissie, O,
And the dashing of the flood, bonnie lassie, O,
O'er the rock and ravine mingle,
And glen and mountain dingle,
With the merry echoes tingle, bonnie lassie, O.
On the moss-seat we'll recline, bonnie lassie, O,
Wi' a hand in each of thine, bonnie lassie, O;
The bosom's warmest thrill
Beats truer, safter still,
As our hearts now glowing fill, bonnie lassie, O.
Then before bright heaven's eye, bonnie lassie, O,
We will double love-knots tie, bonnie lassie, O;
Then true affection plighted.
We'll love and live united,
With hearts and hands united, bonnie lassie, O.
Caledonia.
[Robert Allan.—Air, "Kelvin Grove."]
The simmer sweetly smiles in Caledonia,
The simmer sweetly smiles in Caledonia,
Whare the scented hawthorns blaw,
White as the drifted snaw,
'Mang the bonnie woods and wilds o' Caledonia.
There's motintain, hill, and dale, in Caledonia,
There's mountain, hill, and dale, in Caledonia,
There's mountain, hill, and dale,
Where lovers tell their tale,
By the bonnie siller streams o' Caledonia.
The twilight hour is sweet in Caledonia,
The twilight hour is sweet in Caledonia,
The twilight hour is sweet,
When fa's the dewy weet,
On the bonnie banks and braes o' Caledonia.
The glens are wild and steep in Caledonia,
The glens are wild and steep in Caledonia,
The glens are wild and steep,
And the ocean's wide and deep,
That encircles thee, my native Caledonia.
There's a bonnie, bonnie lass in Caledonia,
There's a bonnie, bonnie lass in Caledonia,
Ilka airt the wind can blaw,
She's fairest o' them a',
An' the dearest ane to me in Caledonia.
I have listen’d.
[Robert Milliken, bookseller, Glasgow.—Air, "Kelvin Grove."—Here first printed.]
I have listen'd to your sang, bonnie lassie, O,
And thought the time nae lang, bonnie lassie, O;
There was something in your lay,
O' that saft sweet melody,
I will mind for mouy a day, bonnie lassie, O.
It was o' that pleasant kind, bonnie lassie, O,
That can soothe a weary mind, bonnie lassie,;
It was far more dear to me
Than the blossom on the tree,
To the cheerfu' humming bee, bonnie lassie, O.
