THE THISTLE AND THE ROSE A bonnie laddie tended The rose baith ear' and late; And wove it with his fate; But the weird sisters sat Where Hope's fair emblems grew; And aye they twined the mystic thread,— The snaw-white shade it disappear'd, A bonnie laddie tended The rose baith ear' and late; He water'd it and fann'd it, And wove it with his fate; But the thistle tap it wither'd, Winds bore it far awa', And Scotland's heart was broken, For the rose sae like the snaw! AS I CAM' DOWN THE CANONGATE LXII AS I CAM' DOWN THE THE CANONGATE (ANONYMOUS) As I cam' down the Canongate, Merry may the keel row, My love has breath o' roses, Wi' arms o' lily posies, To fauld a lassie in. O merry, &c. My love he wears a bonnet, A bonnet, a bonnet, A snawy rose upon it, A dimple on his chin. O merry, &c. KELVIN GROVE LXIII KELVIN GROVE (THOMAS LYLE) LET us haste to Kelvin Grove, bonnie las sie, O! Through its mazes let us rove, bonnie lassie, O! Where the rose in all her pride Where the midnight fairies glide, bonnie lassie, O! Let us wander by the mill, bonnie lassie, O! To the cove beside the rill, bonnie lassie, O! Where the glens rebound the call Of the roaring water's fall, Through the mountain's rocky hall, bonnie lassie, O! O Kelvin banks are fair, bonnie lassie, O! When in summer we are there, bonnie las sie, O! There the May pink's crimson plume Round the yellow banks of broom, bonnie lassie, O! KELVIN GROVE Though I dare not call thee mine, bonnie lassie, O! As the smile of fortune's thine, bonnie lassie, O! Yet with fortune on my side I could stay thy father's pride, And win thee for my bride, bonnie lassie, O! But the frowns of fortune lower, bonnie lassie, O! On thy lover at this hour, bonnie lassie, O! Ere yon golden orb of day Wake the warblers on the spray, From this land I must away, bonnie lassie, O! Then farewell to Kelvin Grove, bonnie lassie, O! And adieu to all I love, bonnie lassie, O! To the fragrant-scented breer, Even to thee of all most dear, bonnie lassie, O! When upon a foreign shore, bonnie lassie, O! Should I fall 'midst battle's roar, bonnie lassie, O! Then, Helen! shouldst thou hear Of thy lover on his bier, To his memory shed a tear, bonnie lassie, O! THE moon had climb'd the highest hill Her thoughts on Sandy far at sea; When soft and low a voice was heard, "Sweet Mary, weep no more for me!" She from her pillow gently raised Her head to ask who there might be, "Three stormy nights and stormy days. |