The lark may forget to riſe in the morning,
the ſpring, may forget to revive on tie lee,
But never will I, while my ſenſes govern me,
forget to be kind to the laſs of Glenſhee.
O let me alone, for I am ſure I would blunder,
and ſet a' the gentry a-laughin' at me;
They're book-taught in manners, baith auld and
young yonder,
but we ken but little of that in Glenſhee.
They would ſay, Look ye at him, wi'his highland lay,
ſet up for a ſhow in a window ſo high,
Roll'd up like a witch in a hamely ſpun plaidie,
and pointing towards the laſs o' Glenſhee.
Do not dream o' ſie ſtories, but come up behind me."
ere Pacebus go round my ſweet bride tlou ſhalt be
When wed, in my arms l'll daut you ſae kindly.
She ſmil'd and conſented, I took her wi' me.
Now years ha'e gone reund ſince we buckled together,
and ſealons have chang'd, but nae changes wi' me;
She is ay as gay as the fine ſummer weather,
when boreas blaws ſhrill on the hills o' Glenſhee
To meet wil my Jeanie away I would venture,
ſhe's ſweet as the echos that rings o'er the ſee;
She's ſpotleſs and pure as the robes in the winter,
when laid out to bleach on the hills o' Glenſhee.
Answer to the Blue Bonnets.
Farewell to all forrows, with joy now I'll ſing
Since Charles has returned as free as a King,
It's long ſeven years ſince i e bade me adiew,
But now he has returned with his bonnet ſo blue
