Of Glenriddell and Friars’ Carse.

     No more, ye warblers of the wood! no more;
     Nor pour your descant grating on my soul;
     Thou young-eyed Spring! gay in thy verdant stole,
     More welcome were to me grim Winter’s wildest roar.

     How can ye charm, ye flowers, with all your dyes? 
     Ye blow upon the sod that wraps my friend! 
     How can I to the tuneful strain attend? 
     That strain flows round the untimely tomb where Riddell lies.

     Yes, pour, ye warblers! pour the notes of woe,
     And soothe the Virtues weeping o’er his bier: 
     The man of worth—­and hath not left his peer! 
     Is in his “narrow house,” for ever darkly low.

     Thee, Spring! again with joy shall others greet;
     Me, memory of my loss will only meet.

The Lovely Lass O’ Inverness

     The lovely lass o’ Inverness,
     Nae joy nor pleasure can she see;
     For, e’en to morn she cries, alas! 
     And aye the saut tear blin’s her e’e.

     “Drumossie moor, Drumossie day—­
     A waefu’ day it was to me! 
     For there I lost my father dear,
     My father dear, and brethren three.

     “Their winding-sheet the bluidy clay,
     Their graves are growin’ green to see;
     And by them lies the dearest lad
     That ever blest a woman’s e’e!

     “Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord,
     A bluidy man I trow thou be;
     For mony a heart thou has made sair,
     That ne’er did wrang to thine or thee!”

Charlie, He’s My Darling

     ’Twas on a Monday morning,
     Right early in the year,
     That Charlie came to our town,
     The young Chevalier.

     Chorus—­An’ Charlie, he’s my darling,
     My darling, my darling,
     Charlie, he’s my darling,
     The young Chevalier.

     As he was walking up the street,
     The city for to view,
     O there he spied a bonie lass
     The window looking through,
     An’ Charlie, &c.

     Sae light’s he jumped up the stair,
     And tirl’d at the pin;
     And wha sae ready as hersel’
     To let the laddie in. 
     An’ Charlie, &c.

     He set his Jenny on his knee,
     All in his Highland dress;
     For brawly weel he ken’d the way
     To please a bonie lass. 
     An’ Charlie, &c.

     It’s up yon heathery mountain,
     An’ down yon scroggie glen,
     We daur na gang a milking,
     For Charlie and his men,
     An’ Charlie, &c.

Bannocks O’ Bear Meal

     Chorus—­Bannocks o’ bear meal,
     Bannocks o’ barley,
     Here’s to the Highlandman’s
     Bannocks o’ barley!

     Wha, in a brulyie, will
     First cry a parley? 
     Never the lads wi’ the
     Bannocks o’ barley,
     Bannocks o’ bear meal, &c.