HERE awa, there awa, wandering Willic, Here awa, there awa, haud awa hame,

Come to my bosom my ain only dearie,

OPEN THE DOOR TO ME, OH!

WITH ALTERATIONS.

same.

Winter-winds blew loud and caul at our parting,

Fears for my Willie brought tears in my e'e, Welcome now simmer, and welcome my Willie,

As simmer to nature, so Willie to me.

Rest, ye wild storms, in the cave o' your slumbers,

How your dread howling a lover alarms! Blow soft ye breezes! roll gently ye billows! And waft my dear laddie ance mair to my

arms.

But oh, if he's faithless, and minds na his Nannie, Flow still between us thou dark-heaving main !

May I never see it, may I never trow it,
While dying I think that my Willie's my ain.

Oh, open the door to me, Oh! Tho' thou hast been false, I'll ever prove true, Oh, open the door to me, Oh!

At length I reach'd the bonnie glen,
Where early life I sported;
I pass'd the mill, and trysting thorn,
Where Nancy aft I courted:
Wha spied I but my ain dear maid,
Down by her mother's dwelling!
And turn'd me round to hide the flood
That in my een was swelling.

Wi' alter'd voice, quoth I, sweet lass, Sweet as yon hawthorn's blossom, O! happy, happy may he be,

That's dearest to thy bosom! My purse is light, I've far to gang, And fain wad be thy lodger; I've serv'd my king and country lang, Take pity on a sodger.

Sae wistfully she gaz'd on me,
And lovelier was than ever:
Quo' she, a sodger ance I lo'ed,
Forget him shall I never: .
Our humble cot, and hamely fare,
Ye freely shall partake it,
That gallant badge, the dear cockade,
Ye're welcome for the sake o't.

She gaz'd-she redden'd like a rose-
Syne pale like ony lily;
She sank within my arms, and cried,
Art thou my ain dear Willie?
By him who made yon sun and skv-
By whom true love's regarded,
I am the man; and thus may still
True lovers be rewarded.

The wars are o'er, and I'm come hame,
And find thee still true-hearted;
Tho' poor in gear, we're rich in love,
And mair we'se ne'er be parted.
Quo' she, my grandsire left me gowd,
A mailen plenish'd fairly;
And come, my faithfu' sodger lad,
Thou'rt welcome to it dearly!

For gold the merchant ploughs the main,
The farmer ploughs the manor;
But glory is the sodger's prize;

The sodger's wealth is honour,
The brave poor sodger ne'er despise,
Nor count him as a stranger,
Remember he's his country's stay
In day and hour of danger.

MEG O' THE MILL.

AIR-"O bonny lass, will you lie in a Barrack?'

O KEN ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten,
An' ken ye what Meg o' the Mill has gotten?
She has gotten a coof wi' a claut o' siller,
And broken the heart o' the barley Miller.

The Miller was strappin, the Miller was ruddy;
A heart like a lord, and a hue like a lady:
The laird was a widdiefu', bleerit knurl:-
She's left the guid fellow and ta'en the churl.