THE CAPTAIN'S LADY.

TUNE "O MOUNT AND GO."

CHORUS.

O, mount and go,
Mount and make you ready;
O, mount and go,

And be the Captain's Lady.

WHEN the drums do beat,
And the cannons rattle,
Thou shalt sit in state,

And see thy love in battle.
When the vanquish'd foe
Sues for peace and quiet,
To the shades we'll go,
And in love enjoy it.

O, mount and go,
Mount and make you ready;
O, mount and go,
And be the Captain's lady.

LADY MARY-ANN.

TUNE "CRAIGTOWN'S GROWING."

O, LADY Mary-Ann

Looks o'er the castle wa', She saw three bonnie boys Playing at the ba';

The youngest he was

The flower amang them a';
My bonnie laddie's young,
But he's growing yet.

O father! O father!
An' ye think it fit,

We'll send him a year
To the college yet:
We'll sew a green ribbon

Round about his hat,

And that will let them ken

He's to marry yet.

Lady Mary-Ann

Was a flower i' the dew,

Sweet was its smell,

And bonnie was its hue!
And the langer it blossom'd
The sweeter it grew;
For the lily in the bud
Will be bonnier yet.

Young Charlie Cochran

Was the sprout of an aik;
Bonnie and bloomin'

And straught was its make:
The sun took delight

To shine for its sake,

And it will be the brag
O' the forest yet.

The simmer is gane

When the leaves they were green,

And the days are awa

That we hae seen;

But far better days

I trust will come again,

For my bonnie laddie's young,
But he's growin' yet.

THE HIGHLAND WIDOW'S LAMENT.'

OH! I am come to the low countrie,
Och-on, och-on, och-rie!
Without a penny in my purse,

To buy a meal to me.

It was na sae in the Highland hills,
Och-on, och-on, och-rie!

Nae woman in the country wide
Sae happy was as me.

For then I had a score o' kye,
Och-on, och-on, och-rie!
Feeding on yon hills so high,

And giving milk to me.

And there I had three score o' yowes,
Och-on, och-on, och-rie!

Skipping on yon bonnie knowes,

And casting woo' to me.

1 I do not know on what authority Mr. Cunningham assigns this Jacobite song to Burns; for I have heard old ladies sing it who remember its existence anterior to the poet's time.-Motherwell.

I was the happiest of a' the clan,
Sair, sair may I repine;

For Donald was the brawest lad,
And Donald he was mine.

Till Charlie Stewart cam' at last,
Sae far to set us free;

My Donald's arm was wanted then,
For Scotland and for me.

Their waefu' fate what need I tell ?-
Right to the wrang did yield:
My Donald and his country fell
Upon Culloden's field.

Oh! I am come to the low countrie,
Och-on, och-on, och-rie!
Nae woman in the warld wide
Sae wretched now as me.

MERRY HAE I BEEN TEETHIN' A HECKLE.
TUNE-"LORD BREADALBANE'S MARCH."

O MERRY hae I been teethin' a heckle,'
And merry hae I been shapin' a spoon;
O merry hae I been cloutin2 a kettle,
And kissin' my Katie when a' was done.
O a' the lang day I ca' at my hammer,
An' a' the lang day I whistle and sing,
An' a' the lang night I cuddle my kimmer,3
An' a' the lang night am as happy's a king.

Bitter in dool I lickit my winnins,

O' marrying Bess, to gie her a slave:
Blest be the hour she cool'd in her linnens,

And blythe be the bird that sings on her grave.
Come to my arms, my Katie, my Katie;
An' come to my arms, and kiss me again!
Drunken or sober, here's to thee, Katie!
An blest be the day I did it again.

A board with sharp steel prongs for dressing hemp.
Young girl.

2 Repairing.

RATTLIN', ROARIN' WILLIE.

TUNE "RATTLIN', ROARIN' WILLIE."

O RATTLIN,' roarin Willie,
O, he held to the fair,
An' for to sell his fiddle,
An' buy some other ware;
But parting wi' his fiddle,
The saut tear blin't his e'e;
And rattlin', roarin' Willie,
Ye're welcome hame to me!

O Willie, come sell your fiddle,
O sell your fiddle sae fine;
O Willie, come sell your fiddle,
And buy a pint o' wine!
If I should sell my fiddle,

The warl' would think I was mad;

For mony a rantin' day

My fiddle and I hae had.

As I cam by Crochallan,
I cannily keekit ben-
Rattlin', roarin' Willie

Was sitting at yon board en',
Sitting at yon board en',1

And amang guid companie;

Rattlin', roarin' Willie,

Ye're welcome hame to me!

O MALLY'S MEEK, MALLY'S SWEET.

As I was walking up the street,

A barefit maid I chanced to meet;
But O the road was very hard
For that fair maiden's tender feet.
O Mally's meek, Mally's sweet,
Mally's modest and discreet,
Mally's rare, Mally's fair,

Mally's every way complete.

It were more meet that those fine feet
Were weel laced up in silken shoon,
And 'twere more fit that she should sit
Within yon chariot gilt aboon.

Her yellow hair, beyond compare,

Comes trinkling down her swan-white neck, And her two eyes, like stars in skies, Would keep a sinking ship frae wreck. O Mally's meek, Mally's sweet, Mally's modest and discreet, Mally's rare, Mally's fair, Mally's every way complete.

O, SAD and heavy should I part,
But for her sake sae far awa;
Unknowing what my way may thwart,
My native land sae far awa.
Thou that of a' things Maker art,
That form'd this Fair sae far awa,
Gie body strength, then I'll ne'er start
At this my way sae far awa.

How true is love to pure desert,
So love to her, sae far awa:
And nocht can heal my bosom's smart,
While, oh! she is sae far awa.
Nane other love, nane other dart,
I feel but hers, sae far awa;
But fairer never touch'd a heart
Than hers, the Fair sae far awa.

O, STEER HER UP.

TUNE-" O STEER Her up, and haud her gaun.”

up,

0, STEER2 her and haud her gaun
Her mother's at the mill, jo;
And gin she winna take a man,
E'en let her take her will, jo:

First shore her wi' a kindly kiss,
And ca' another gill, jo,
And gin she take the thing amiss,
E'en let her flyte her fill, jo.

Trickling.

2 Stir.