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O we aft hae met at e’en, bonny Peggy, 0,
On the banks of Cart sae green, bonny Peggy, 0,

Where the waters smoothly rin,

Far aneath the roaring lin,
Far frae busy strife and din, bonny Peggy, 0.

When the lately crimson west, bonny Peggy, 0, In her darker robe was drest, bonny Peggy, 0,

And a sky of azure blue,

Deck'd with stars of golden hue,
Rose majestic to the view, bonny Peggy, 0,

When the sound of Aute or horn, bonny Peggy, 0, On the gale of evening borne, bonny Peggy, 0,

We have heard in echoes die,

While the wave that rippl'd by,
Sung a soft and sweet reply, bonny Peggy, O.

Then how happy would we rove, bonny Peggy, 0,
Whilst thou blushing own'd thy love, bonny Peggy, 0,
Whilst thy quickly throbbing breast

To my beating heart I press’d,
Ne'er was mortal half so blest, bonny Peggy, O.

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Yet hadst thou been true to me, bonny Peggy, 0,
As I still hae been to thee, bonny Peggy, 0, .

Then with bosom, O how light,

Had I hail'd the coming night,
And yon evening-star so bright, bonny Peggy, 0.

XLVI.

HERE'S TO THY HEALTH, MY BONNIE LASS.

Here's to thy health, my bonnie lass,

Gude night and joy be wi' thee;
I'll come nae mair to thy bower-door

To tell thee that I lo'e thee.
O dinna think, my pretty pink,

But I can live without thee ;
I vow and swear I dinna care

How lang ye look about ye.

Thou’rt aye sae free informing,

Thou hast nae mind to marry,
I'll be as free informing thee,

Nae time hae I to tarry.
I kend thy friends try ilka means,

Frae wedlock to delay thee,
Depending on some higher chance,

But fortune may betray thee.

I kend they scorn my low estate,

But that does never grieve me;
For I'm as free as ony he,

Sma’ siller will relieve me,

I'll count my health my greatest wealth,

Sae lang as I'll enjoy it ;
I'll fear nae scant, I'll bode nae want,

As lang's I get employment.

But far aff fowls hae feathers fair,

And aye until ye try them;
Tho' they seem fair still have a care,
· They may prove poor as I am.
Yet still, this night, by clear moonlight,

My dear, I'll come and see thee,
For the lad that lo'es his lassie weel

Nae travel makes him weary.

XLVII.

I'VE NO SHEEP ON THE MOUNTAINS.

I've no sheep on the mountains, nor boat on the lake,
Nor coin in my coffer to keep me awake;
No corn in my garner, nor fruit on my tree,
Yet the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me.

Softly tapping, at eve, to her window I came,
And loud bay'd the watch-dog, loud scolded the dame,
For shame, silly Light-foot, what is it to thee,
Tho' the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me.

Rich Owen will tell you, with eyes full of scorn,
Threadbare is my coat and my hosen are torn;
Scoff on, my rich Owen, for faint is thy glee,
When the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me.

The farmer rides proudly to market and fair, .
And the clerk, at the ale-house, still claims the great chair,
But of all our proud fellows the proudest I'll be,
While the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me.

For blythe as the urchin at holiday play,
And meek as a matron in mantie of gray,
And trim as the lady of noblest degree,
Is the maid of Llanwellyn who smiles upon me.

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