There Was A Bonie Lass

     There was a bonie lass, and a bonie, bonie lass,
     And she lo’ed her bonie laddie dear;
     Till War’s loud alarms tore her laddie frae her arms,
     Wi’ mony a sigh and tear. 
     Over sea, over shore, where the cannons loudly roar,
     He still was a stranger to fear;
     And nocht could him quail, or his bosom assail,
     But the bonie lass he lo’ed sae dear.

Wee Willie Gray

     Tune—­“Wee Totum Fogg.”

     Wee Willie Gray, and his leather wallet,
     Peel a willow wand to be him boots and jacket;
     The rose upon the breir will be him trews an’ doublet,
     The rose upon the breir will be him trews an’ doublet,
     Wee Willie Gray, and his leather wallet,
     Twice a lily-flower will be him sark and cravat;
     Feathers of a flee wad feather up his bonnet,
     Feathers of a flee wad feather up his bonnet.

O Aye My Wife She Dang Me

     Chorus—­O aye my wife she dang me,
     An’ aft my wife she bang’d me,
     If ye gie a woman a’ her will,
     Gude faith! she’ll soon o’er-gang ye.

     On peace an’ rest my mind was bent,
     And, fool I was!  I married;
     But never honest man’s intent
     Sane cursedly miscarried. 
     O aye my wife, &c.

     Some sairie comfort at the last,
     When a’ thir days are done, man,
     My pains o’ hell on earth is past,
     I’m sure o’ bliss aboon, man,
     O aye my wife, &c.

Gude Ale Keeps The Heart Aboon

     Chorus—­O gude ale comes and gude ale goes;
     Gude ale gars me sell my hose,
     Sell my hose, and pawn my shoon—­
     Gude ale keeps my heart aboon!

     I had sax owsen in a pleugh,
     And they drew a’ weel eneugh: 
     I sell’d them a’ just ane by ane—­
     Gude ale keeps the heart aboon! 
     O gude ale comes, &c.

     Gude ale hauds me bare and busy,
     Gars me moop wi’ the servant hizzie,
     Stand i’ the stool when I hae done—­
     Gude ale keeps the heart aboon! 
     O gude ale comes, &c.

O Steer Her Up An’ Haud Her Gaun

     O steer her up, an’ haud her gaun,
     Her mither’s at the mill, jo;
     An’ gin she winna tak a man,
     E’en let her tak her will, jo. 
     First shore her wi’ a gentle kiss,
     And ca’ anither gill, jo;
     An’ gin she tak the thing amiss,
     E’en let her flyte her fill, jo.

     O steer her up, an’ be na blate,
     An’ gin she tak it ill, jo,
     Then leave the lassie till her fate,
     And time nae langer spill, jo: 
     Ne’er break your heart for ae rebute,
     But think upon it still, jo: 
     That gin the lassie winna do’t,
     Ye’ll find anither will, jo.