To drive auld Scotland's hardy clans
Frae their native glens and blooming heather.
Native glens and blooming heather,

Native glens and blooming heather,

To drive auld Scotland's hardy clans

Frae their native glens and blooming heather.

I'll sell the cot my granny left,

Its plenishing an' a' thegither,

An' I'll seek her out 'mang foreign wilds,
Wha used to meet me amang the heather;
Used to meet me amang the heather,
Used to meet me amang the heather,

I'll seek her out 'mang foreign wilds,

Wha used to meet me amang the heather.

CARRICK.

OUR JOHN HIELANMAN.

I'VE sax eggs in the pan, gudeman,
I've sax eggs in the pan, gudeman;
I've ane for you, an' twa for me,
An' three for our John Hielanman.

Oh Johnny has a shapely leg,
Weel fitted for the philibeg;
While we've a hen to lay an egg,

That egg's to our John Hielanman.
I've sax eggs, etc.

Ve ken, gudeman, you're failing noo,
An' heavy wark ye canna do,

Ye neither thrash nor haud the plough
Sae weel as our John Hielanman.
I've sax eggs, etc.

The folk that work should always eat,
An' Johnny's wordy o' his meat.

For ne'er a job that's incomplete
Is done by our John Hielanman.
I've sax eggs, etc.

As yet, gudeman, I'm no to blame,
For I've maintain'd an honest fame;
But just stap aff to your lang-hame,
An' I'll wed our John Hielanman.
I've sax eggs, etc.

CARRICK.

THE HERRING-HEAD CLUB.

As we journey through life let us live by the way,
A famous remark which a sage once did say ;
We all now are met, spite of care the old scrub,
And we'll pass half an hour in the Herring-head club.
Derry down, down, down, derry down.

Some good folks complain of the times being bad,
But the way to improve them is not to be sad;
To laugh is no sin, if we raise no hubbub,
At least so we think at the Herring-head club.
Derry down, etc.

King Fergus the First, who in Scotland did reign,
Was a merry old blade who did seldom complain :
No glasses had he, so he drank from a shell,
His nobles and he had a glorious spell.

Derry down, etc.

One night being merry and full of much glee,

For with herrings and drink they were all on the spree—
This meeting, cried Fergus, it is now time to dub,
So, my drouthies, we'll call it the Herring-head club.
Derry down, etc.

And now I command that ye keep the thing up,
Be sure once a month that on herrings ye sup,

And if ye forget it, my ghost shall ye drub,
And this was the rise of the Herring-head club.
Derry down, etc.

Then drink to King William, and drink to the Queen,
May their pains be all past and their sorrows all seen;
May we all pass through life without jostle or rub,
And often come back to the Herring-head club.
Derry down, etc.

THE AULD SCOTTISH BRUGH.

AIR-" John Anderson my Joe."

IN Scotland stands an ancient brugh, wi' some twalhundred people,

A lang and narrow strip o' street, and ae high-shoulder'd steeple ;

Ilk grocer i' the borough is a bailie, or has been,

But the Provost was perpetual, and drave the hail machine.

At twal o'clock, the Provost cam, and stood upo' the

street,

And waggit to his right-hand man, i' the public house to meet;

The Bailie threw his apron by, and o'er their gill they sat, And they managed a' the Toun's affairs in a bit quiet chat.

The Deacon, wi' a face half-wash'd, gaed consequential by

But the Deacon, as a' body kent, had nae finger i' the pie. The Deacon made the Provost's breeks, and a' his laddies' claes

And the Provost, though the best o' friends, was yet the warst o' faes.

And oh the Provost was a man o' consequence and

worth

He managed weel, he strutted weel, yet had nae wit nor

birth:

He led the Council in a string, and the member, ken't,

I trow,

That, if he said the word, 'twas done, and there were

votes enow.

And when the canvassin' cam' round, the member walk'd about,

And bughted i' the Provost's arm-they sought the Deacon's out;

The bodies threw their nightcaps by, or wi' them cleaned a chair,

And the member sat i' the ben house, wi' a condescendin'

air.

The gudewife stood aside, and beck'd and twirled her apron strings,

And wunner'd that the member deign'd to speak to them, puir things!

The Parliamentar roar'd, and talked, and syne kiss'd the gudewife

And the wife declares the Deacon's vote is now as sure's his life.

The Bailie's wife, wi' a braw head, frae her window looks

out,

And cried, "Preserve 's! he's comin' now-what are ye a' about?

Put down the wine, ye lazy jad !—the lassie's surely mad !"

And down she sits, to be surprised, upon her cosh bit pad.

The Bailie bustles in before-his very lugs are red

The gudewife hears upo' the trance a Parliamentar's

tread?

He enters a' sooawvity, and chucks each chubby laddie, And swears how ane is like to her, anither to its daddy.

And now the Provost walks him hame to dinner wi' himsel', And the member tak's his seat atween the leddie and Miss Bell

And the leddie cracks o' Dr. John, and syne o' Captain Sandy,

Wha, by his Honour's influence, to India got so handy.

But, waes my heart! the auncient town has now gane down the hill,

And vested rights o' families are stolen by Russell's Bill— And vulgar weaving touns, I trow, like Glasgow and Dundee,

Maun steal the honours frae our brughs o' high antiquity?

MISTER PETER PATERSON.
Or, a Bailie in his Cups.

MISTER Peter Paterson,
Ye will find that late or soon,
If ye dinna change your tune,
Ye will most dearly rue.
Mister Peter Paterson,
Mister Peter Paterson,

Mister Peter Paterson,

I see you're gayan' fu'.

You're a Bailie now, ye ken,

Then drink wi' nane but sober men,

Nor sit in ony dirty den

Wi' ony vulgar crew.

For I maun tell it to your face,

That it's a sin and a disgrace

For you to sit in sic a place,
And drink till ye get fu'.
So, Mister Peter Paterson, etc.