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But half our heavy task was done,

When the clock’ told the hour for retiring, And we heard the distant and random gun,

That the foe was sullenly firing. Slowly and sadly we laid him down,

From the field of his fame, fresh and gory, We carv'd not a line, we rais'd not a stone,

But we left him alone with his glory.


Little wat ye wha's coming,
Jock and Tam and a's coming ;
Duncan's coming, Donald's corning,
Colin's coming, Ronald's coming,
Dongald's coming, Lauchlan's coming,
Alister and a's coming

Little wat ye wha's coming,
M'Gilvrey of Drumglass is coming,
Borland and his men are coming,
The Camerons and M'Lean's corning,
The Gordons and M'Gregor's coming,
A’ the Dunny wastle's coming.

Little wat ye wha's coming,
Blythe Cowhill and a's coming,
Wigton's coming, Nithsdale's coming,
Carnwath's coming, Kenmure's coming,
Derwontwater and Foster's coming,
Withrington and Nairn's coming.

Little wat ye wha's coming,
Donald Gun and a's coming,
The Laird of M’Intosh is coming,
M'Crabie and M’Donald's coming,

The M'Kenzies and M'Pherson's coming, A'the wild M'Craw's coming.

Little wat ye wha's corning, Roderick Dhu and a's coming, They glooin, they glower, they look sae big, At ilkā stroke they'll fell a whig, They'll fight the feuds in tartan trews, And mony a bonnet blue's coming.


An Emblem of Old Age.
Hail ye sighing sons of sorrow;
View with me the autumnal gloom :
Learn from thence your fate to-morrow,
Dead, perhaps-laid in the tomb.
See all nature fading—dying ;
Silent all things seem to mourn;
Life from vegetation flying,
Brings to mind the mould'ring urn.
Oft the autumn's tempest rising,
Makes the lofty forest nod,
Scenes of nature-how surprising !
Read in nature, nature's God!
See our sovereign sole Creator,
Lives eternal in the sky,
While we mortals yield to nature,
Bloom awhile, then fade and die.
Nations die by dread Bellona, *
Through enrag'd tyrannic Kings;
Just as plants by pale Pomona,t

* The Goddess of War. ị The Goddess of Autumn.

Fall, to rise in future springs.
Mournful scene, when vegetation
Dies by frost, or worms devour!
Doubly mournful, when a nation
Dies by neighb'ring nation's power!
Death, like war, my mind depresses,
Autumn shows me my decay,
Calls to mind my past distresses,
Warns me of my dying day.
Autumn gives me melancholy,
Strikes dejection through my soul,
While I mourn my former folly,
Waves of sorrow o'er me roll.
Lo! I hear the air resounding
With expiring insects' cries?
Oh! their moans to me are wounding,
Emblem of my aged sighs.
Hollow winds about are roaring,
Noisy waters round me rise,
While I sit my fate deploring,
Tears fast streaming from my eyes !
What to me are Autumn's treasures,
Since I know no earthly joy?
Long I've lost all youthful pleasures,
Time must youth and health destroy.
Pleasures once I fondly courted,
Shar'd each bliss that youth bestows;
But to see how then I sported,
Now embitters all my woes.
Age and sorrow since have blasted
Every youthful pleasing dreain!
Quiv’ring age with youth contrasted,
Oh! how short our glories seemn!

As the annual frosts are cropping
Leaves and tendrils from the trees;
So my friends are yearly dropping,
Through old age, or dire disease.
Former friends - how I've sought them,
Just to cheer my drooping mind;
But they are gone-like leaves in autumn,
Driven before the dreary wind.
When a few more years are wasted,
When a few more springs are o'er;
When a few more griefs I've tasted,
I shall fall to bloom no more.
Fast my sun of life declining,
Soon will set in endless night:
But my hopes pure and refining,
Cease this fearing—trembling-sighing;
Death will break this sullen gloom;
Soon my spirit, fluttering—flying,


By Alexander Lee. HERE's a health to them that's awa,

Here's a health to them that's awa, And wha winna wish guid luck to our cause,

May never guid luck be their fa'.
It's guid to be inerry and wise,

It's guid to be honest and true,
It's guid to support Caledonia's cause,

And bide by the bonnets of blue.

Hurrah for the bonnets of blue,

Hurrah for the bonnets of blue,
It's guid to support Caledonia's cause,

And bide by the bonnets of blue.
Here's a health to them that's awa,

Here's a health to them that's awa, Here's a health to Charlie the chief o' the clan,

Although that his band be sına'. Here's freedom to him that was read,

Here's freedom to him that wad write; There's nane ever fear'd that the truth should

be heard,
But they wham the truth wad indite.
Hurrah for the bonnets of blue,

Hurrah for the bonnets of blue;
It's guid to be wise, to be honest and true,

And bide by the bonnets of blue.


AIR— Comin throthe Rye.?
If a body meet a body

Comin thro' a crowd,
Should a body to a body

Tattle tales too loud ?
And the ladies in the city,

Talkative and proud,
Love to raise their voices pretty,

Comin thro' the crowd !
If a body meet a body

In the soda shops,
Should a body say a body

Loves to take her drops?

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