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6

Well a well a day,
Leave your country's feeling behind.

Still the blackbird shall sing on the thorn,
Robin Gray,
And the lark early carol on high,
But the lowly lodg'd swain,
As he scatters his grain,
Will chant Robin's verse with a sigh;
Well, a well a day,
Will chant Robin's verse with a sigh.

Soft lies on his bosom the turf,
Robin Gray,
Rest his ashes unmingled and pure,
May the tomb of his urn
Caledonia adorn,
And his much lov'd remains ay secure
Well a well a day,
And his much lov'd remains ay secure.


HIGHLAND LADDIE.

Oh where, tell me where is your Highland Laddie gone,
Oh where, tell me where is your Highland Laddie gone,
He is gone with streaming banners, where noble deeds are done,
And its oh in my heart but I wish him safe at home.