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I LIKE to see you, Allan Dhu,

I like wi' you to meet,
But dinna say to me you loe,

For that wad gar me greet.
I like to see you smile on me

Amang our maidens a',
But, oh! ae vow o’ love frae you

I cou’dna stand ava.

Ay, ye may smile, but dinna speak;

I ken what ye’ve to say ;
Sae, either haud your tongue sae sleek,

Or look another way ;
For, should it be of love to me,

In manner soft and bland,

I wadna ye my face should see

For a' Breadalbin's land.

Oh! Allan Dhu, 'tis nought to you

Of love to gibe and jeer;
But little ken ye of the pang

A maiden's heart maun bear,
When a' on earth that she hauds dear,

The hope that makes her fain,
Comes plump at aince-Oh, me! the thought

'Maist turns my heart to stane!

No, Allan, no-I winna let

You speak a word the night: Gang hame, an' write a lang letter,

For weel ye can indite.
And be it love, or be it slight,

I then can hae my will,
I'll steal away, far out o’ sight,
An' greet, an' greet my



Oh, open

Love came to the door o'my heart ae night,
And he call’d wi' a whining din-

the door! for it is but thy part
To let an old crony come in.”
“ Thou sly little elf! I hae open’d to thee

Far aftener than I dare say;
An' dear hae the openings been to me,

Before I could wile you away.”

“ Fear not,” quo' Love, “ for my bow's in the rest,

And my arrows are ilk ane gane;
For you sent me to wound a lovely breast,

Which has proved o' the marble stane,

I am sair forspent, then let me come in

To the nook where I wont to lie,

For sae aft hae I been this door within

That I downa think to gang by.”

I open'd the door, though I ween’d it a sin,

To the sweet little whimpering fay; But he raised sic a buzz the cove within,

That he filld me with wild dismay; For first I felt sic a thrilling smart,

And then sic an ardent glow, That I fear'd the chords o' my sanguine heart

War a' gaun to flee in a lowe.

“ Gae away, gae away, thou wicked wean!"

I cried, wi’ the tear in my ee;
Ay! sae ye may say !" quo' he,“ but I ken

Ye'll be laith now to part wi' me.”
And what do you think ?-by day and by night,

For these ten lang years and twain, I have cherish'd the urchin with fondest delight,

And we'll never mair part again.


Is one of the songs of my youth, written long ere I threw aside the shepherd's plaid, and took farewell of my trusty colley, for the bard's perilous and thankless occupation. I was a poor shepherd half a century ago, and I have never got farther to this day; but my friends would be far from r'egretting this, if they knew the joy of spirit that has been mine. This was the first song of mine I ever heard sung at the piano, and my feelings of exultation are not to be conceived by men of sordid dispositions. I had often beard my strains chanted from the ewe-bught and the milking green, with delight; but I now found that I had got a step higher, and thenceforward resolved to cling to my harp, with a fondness which no obloquy should diminish,-and I have kept the resolution.—The song was first set to music and sung by Miss C. Forest, and has long been a favourite, and generally sung through a great portion of Scotland.

The moon was a-waning,

The tempest was over;
Fair was the maiden,

And fond was the lover;

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