How can I keep my maidenhead, My maidenhead, my maidenhead; How can I keep my maidenhead, Among sae mony men, O. The Captain bad a guinea for’t,

Braw, braw lads on Yarrow-braes, They rove amang the blooming heath… But Yarrow braes, nor Ettrick sha… Can match the lads o’ Galla Water… But there is ane, a secret ane,

When first my brave Johnie lad ca… He had a blue bonnet that wanted t… But now he has gotten a hat and a… Hey, brave Johnie lad, cock up yo… Cock up your beaver, and cock it f…

O LORD, when hunger pinches sore… Do thou stand us in stead, And send us, from thy bounteous st… A tup or wether head! Amen.———— O Lord, since we have feasted thu…

Duncan Gray came here to woo, Ha, ha, the wooin o’t! On blythe Yule night when we were… Ha, ha, the wooin o’t! Maggie coost her head fu high,

LONE on the bleaky hills the str… Shun the fierce storms among the s… Down from the rivulets, red with d… The gathering floods burst o’er th… Beneath the blast the leafless for…

THERE’S news, lassies, news, Gude news I’ve to tell! There’s a boatfu’ o’ lads Come to our town to sell. Chorus.—The wean wants a cradle,

O THOU who kindly dost provide For every creature’s want! We bless Thee, God of Nature wid… For all Thy goodness lent: And if it please Thee, Heavenly…

Scots, wha hae wi’ Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, Welcome to your gory bed, Or to victory! Now’s the day, and now’s the hour;

BLEST be M’Murdo to his latest… No envious cloud o’ercast his even… No wrinkle, furrow’d by the hand o… Nor ever sorrow add one silver hai… O may no son the father’s honour s…

THE LAMP of day, with-ill presa… Dim, cloudy, sank beneath the west… Th’ inconstant blast howl’d thro’… And hollow whistled in the rocky c… Lone as I wander’d by each cliff…

HERE lies, now a prey to insulti… What once was a butterfly, gay in… Want only of wisdom denied her res… Want only of goodness denied her e…

ANNA, thy charms my bosom fire, And waste my soul with care; But ah! how bootless to admire, When fated to despair! Yet in thy presence, lovely Fair,

Here Holy Willie’s sair worn clay Taks up its last abode; His saul has ta’en some other way, I fear, the left—hand road. Stop! there he is, as sur’s a gun,

Tune - “Laggan Burn.” Here’s to thy health, my bonie las… Gude nicht and joy be wi’ thee; I’ll come nae mair to thy bower-do… To tell thee that I lo’e thee.