"Sweet closes the ev'ning on Craigieburn Wood, And blythely awaukens the morrow; But the pride o' the springin the Craigieburn Wood Can yield to me nothing but sorrow. Chorus.-Beyond thee, dearie, beyond thee, dearie, And O to be lying beyond thee! O sweetly, soundly, weelmay he sleep That's laid in the bed beyond thee! I

"Ye flowery banks o' bonie Doon, How can ye blumesae fair? How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae fu'o care! Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird, That sings upon the bough! Thou minds me o' the happy days When my fause Luvewas true. Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird, That

"Ye banks and braes o' bonie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair? How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae weary fu' o' care! Thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird, That wantons thro' the flowering thorn: Thou minds me o' departed joys, Departed never to return. AfthaeI rov'd byBonieDoon,

Ye Jacobites by name, give an ear, give an ear, Ye Jacobites by name, give anear, Ye Jacobites by name, Your fautes I will proclaim, Your doctrines I maunblame, you shall hear. What is Right, and What is Wrang, by the law, by the law? What is Right and what is Wrangbythe law? What is

Chorus.-You're welcome, Willie Stewart, You're welcome, Willie Stewart, There's ne'er a flower that blooms in May, That's half saewelcome's thou art! Come, bumpers high, express your joy, The bowl we maunrenew it, The tappet hen, gaebring her ben, To welcome Willie Stewart, You're welcome, Willie Stewart, &c. May foes be strang, and friends be slack

Where Cart rins rowin' to the sea, Bymony a flower and spreading tree, There lives a lad, the lad for me, He is a gallant Weaver. O, I had wooers aughtornine, They gied me rings and ribbons fine; And I was fear'd my heart wadtine, And I giedit to the Weaver. My daddie sign'd my

How daurye ca'me howlet-face, Ye blear-e'ed, withered spectre? Ye only spied the keekin'-glass, An'there ye sawyour picture.

O luve will venture in where it daurnaweel be seen, O luvewill venture in where wisdom ancehas been; But I will doun yonriver rove, amangthe wood sae green, And a' to pu' a Posie to my ain dear May. The primrose I will pu', the firstling o' the year, And I will pu' the pink,

Of Lordly acquaintance you boast, And the Dukes that you dined wi'yestreen, Yet an insect's aninsect at most, Tho' it crawl on the curl of a Queen!