Oh, ha'e ye seen the Tweed when the moon's gane down—
When the sun caps ilk hill wi' a gowden crown?
Oh, ye'd pause in fix'd delight,
As bursts upon the sight
'Neath the Eildons, spreading bright,
The landscape roun'!
But ha'e ye seen the maidens who trip the green,
Wi' their tempting lips and their sparkling e'en?
Let the Tweed be e'er so fair,
Still there's something dearer there,
What were a' the riggs o' Yair
To my winsome quean!
Oh, ha'e ye seen the Tweed while the moon shone bright,
And the stars gemm'd the sky wi' their siller light?
If ye ha'ena seen it, then
Half it's sweets ye canna ken,
Oh, gae back and look again
On a shining night!
Hurra for the Highlands.
[Andrew Park.—Music by S. Barr.]
Hurra! for the Highlands! the stern Scottish Highlands;
The home of the clansman, the brave, and the free,
Where the clouds love to rest, on the mountain's rough breast,
Ere they journey afar o'er the islandless sea.
'Tis there where the cataract sings to the breeze,
As it dashes in foam like a spirit of light;
And 'tis there the bold fisherman bounds o'er the seas,
In his fleet, tiny bark through the perilous night.
Then hurra! for the Highlands, &c.
'Tis the land of deep shadow, of sunshine, and shower,
Where the hurricane revels in madness on high;
For there it has might that can war with its power,
In the wild dizzy cliffs that are cleaving the sky.
Then hurra! for the Highlands, &c.
I have trod merry England, and dwelt on its charms;
I have wandered through Erin, that gem of the sea;
But the Highlands alone the true Scottish heart warms,
For her heather is blooming, her eagles are free.
Then hurra! for the Highlands, &c.
The Dainty Bit Plan.
[William Cross.—Air, "Brose and Butter."—Published originally in "The Penny Songster," Glasgow, 1839.]
Our May had an e'e to a man,
Nae less than the newly-placed preacher;
And we plotted a dainty bit plan
For trapping our spiritual teacher,
O, we were sly, sly! O, we were sly and sleekit!
But ne'er say a herring is dry until it be reestit and reekit.
We treated young Mr. M'Gock,
We plied him wi' tea and wi' toddy;
And we praised every word that he spoke,
Till wi' put him maist out o' the body.
O, we were sly, sly! &c.
Frae the kirk we were never awa',
Except when frae hame he was helping;
And then May, and often us a',
Gaed far and near after him skelping.
O, we were sly, sly! &c.
We said aye, which our neighbours thought droll,
That to hear him gang through wi' a sermon,
Was, (though a wee dry on the whole,)
As refreshing's the dew on Mount Hermon.
O, we were sly! sly, &c.
But to come to the heart o' the nit—
The dainty bit plan that we plotted
Was to get a subscription afit,
And a watch to the minister voted.
O, we were sly, sly! &c.
The young women folk o' the kirk,
By turns lent a hand in collecting;
But May took the feck o' the wark,
And the trouble the rest o' directing.
O, we were sly, sly! &c.
