LOGIE of Buchan, O Logie the Laird, yard, the Who play'd on the pipe wi' the viol sae sma, They ha'e ta'en awa Jamie, the flow'r o' thema'; He said, think na lang lassie, tho' I gang awa, He said, think na lang lassie, tuo' I gang awa, For the simmer is coming, cauld winter's awa, And I'll come and see thee, in spite o' them a.' Sandy has ousen, has gear, and has kye, My daddy looks sulky, my mither looks sour, They frown upon Jamie, because he is poor; Tho' I loe them as well as a daughter should do, They're na half so dear to me, my Jamie, as you; He said, &c. I sit on my creepie, and spin at my wheel, OH! Он H! where, and oh! where, is your Highland laddie gone? He's gone to fight the French for King George upon the throne, And its oh! in my heart, I wish him safe at home. Oh! where, and oh! where, did your Highland laddie dwell? He dwelt in merry Scotland, at the sign of the blue bell, And its oh! in my heart, I love my laddie well, In what clothes, in what clothes is your Highland laddie clad? His bonnet of the Saxon green, and his waistcoat of the plaid, And its oh! in my heart, I love my Highland lad, Suppose, and suppose, that your Highland lad should die? The bagpipes shuld play over him, and I'd sit me down and cry, And its oh! in my heart, I wish he may not die. Oh! where, &c. RISE with the morn, I contemplate the sun, I sigh with regret when the day-light is gone, I wander in groves whilst the nightingales sing, I traverse the sands of the sea, They hear not my sigh, so no comfort they bring, For what can bring comfort to me? Alas! my poor heart, once so sprightly and gay, Love's fever consumes it-Ah! fatal the day, At night my sad pillow's bedew'd with my tears, Sleep flies till entomb'd I shall be: In the grave there's an end to troubles and fears, And that's consolation for me. BRITANNIA's sons, attend my call, And jolly sailors, one and all, And drink that ills may ne'er befal On the wave, 66 On board each lad did all aspire, Genius of Britain! aid my pen, Saint Vincent and Nelson's glorious name, Undaunted stood, And fought with hearts replete with zeal, Success to the valiant Vanguard. Brave Admiral Brueys (though our foc) To fight on board the Vanguard. Our valour threw him in despair, For when they saw their sailors fall, As British tars were ever brave, On board the valiant Vanguard, It made each British sailor weep, Were soon laid low! Let ev'ry loyal Briton sing, Success to George, our noble king, Brave Nelson, and the Vanguard. THOUG NHOUGH mountains high the billows roll, The sailor gayly slings the bowl, And thinks on ner he left at home. His friend in limbo should he find, His mind's made up, come what will; Once more at sea, prepar'd to fight, His mind's made up, come what will; 'Tis all one to Jack. And |