Chorus.'€”Bonie wee thing, cannie… Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine, I wad wear thee in my bosom, Lest my jewel it should tine. WISHFULLY I look and languish

HOW can my poor heart be glad, When absent from my sailor lad; How can I the thought forego’€” He’s on the seas to meet the foe? Let me wander, let me rove,

FRAE the friends and land I love… Driv’n by Fortune’s felly spite; Frae my best belov’d I rove, Never mair to taste delight: Never mair maun hope to find

O GOWDIE, terror o’ the whigs, Dread o’ blackcoats and rev’rend w… Sour Bigotry, on her last legs, Girns an’ looks back, Wishing the ten Egyptian plagues

O Mary, at thy window be, It is the wish’d, the trysted hour… Those smiles and glances let me se… That makes the miser’s treasure po… How blythely wad I bide the stour…

O MIRK, mirk is this midnight ho… And loud the tempest’s roar; A waefu’ wanderer seeks thy tower, Lord Gregory, ope thy door. An exile frae her father’s ha’,

Is there, for honest poverty, That hings his head, an’ a’ that? The coward slave, we pass him by, We dare be poor for a’ that! For a’ that, an’ a’ that,

YE gallants bright, I rede you ri… Beware o’ bonie Ann; Her comely face sae fu’ o’ grace, Your heart she will trepan: Her een sae bright, like stars by…

“O cam ye here the fight to shun, Or herd the sheep wi’ me, man? Or were ye at the Sherra-moor, Or did the battle see, man?” “I saw the battle, sair and teugh

Tune - “Galla Water.” Altho’ my bed were in yon muir, Amang the heather, in my plaidie; Yet happy, happy would I be, Had I my dear Montgomerie’s Pegg…

Here’s a health to them that’s awa… Here’s a health to them that’s awa And wha winna wish guid luck to ou… May never guid luck be their fa’! It’s guid to be merry and wise,

HERE lies Boghead amang the dead In hopes to get salvation; But if such as he in Heav’n may b… Then welcome, hail! damnation.

O WHY the deuce should I repine, And be an ill foreboder? I’m twenty-three, and five feet ni… I’ll go and be a sodger! I gat some gear wi’ mickle care,

O WERE my Love yon lilac fair,    Wi’ purple blossoms to the spri… And I a bird to shelter there,    When wearied on my little wing; How I wad mourn when it was torn

THE lovely lass o’ Inverness, Nae joy nor pleasure can she see; For e’en and morn she cries, ‘Ala… And aye the saut tear blin’s her e… 'Drumossie moor, Drumossie day,