I'll tak ye to my father's ha',
In yon green fields beside the shaw;
I'll mak you lady o' them a',

The brawest wife in Gowrie."

"A silken gown o' siller gray

My mither coft last new-year's day,
And buskit me fra tap to tae,

To keep me out o' Gowrie.

Daft Will short syne cam' courting Nell,
And wan the lass; but what befel,
Or whare she's gane, she kens hersel',
She stay'd na lang in Gowrie."

"Sic thoughts, dear Katie, ill combine
Wi' beauty rare and wit like thine;
Except yoursel', my bonnie quean,
I care for nought in Gowrie,
Since first I saw you in the sheal,
To you my heart's been true and leal;
The darkest night I fear nae de’il,
Warlock, or witch, in Gowrie."

Saft kisses on her lips I laid,

The blush upon her cheeks soon spread,
She whisper'd modestly, and said,
"O Pate, I'll stay in Gowrie !"
The auld folks soon ga'e their consent,
Syne for Mess John they quickly sent,
Wha ty'd them to their hearts' content,

And now she's Lady Gowrie.

Founded upon an older ballad, by William Reid of Glasgow, entitled "Kate o' Gowrie."

KELVIN GROVE.

From the "Harp of Renfrewshire," 1820.

LET us haste to Kelvin grove, bonnie lassie O;
Through its mazes let us rove, bonnie lassie O,
Where the rose in all her pride

Paints the hollow dingle's side,

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 waters' fall,

Through the mountain's rocky hall, bonnie lassie 0.

Oh, Kelvin banks are fair, bonnie lassie O,
When in simmer we are there, bonnie lassie O';
There the May-pink's crimson plume
Throws a soft but sweet perfume

Round the yellow banks of broom, bonnie lassie O.

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 river winding clear,

To the fragrant-scented brier,

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 author of this celebrated song is Thomas Lyle, surgeon in Glasgow. The music was arranged by R. A, Smith, composer of "Jessie, the flower o' Dumblane," from the old Scottish melody, "Bonnie lassie O."

Kelvin Grove is situated about two miles west from Glasgow, but bids fair to be included within the bounds of that rapidly increasing city.

BEHAVE YOURSEL' BEFORE FOLK.

ALEXANDER RODGER, born 1784, died 1846. Air-" Good morrow to your nightcap."

BEHAVE yoursel' before folk;
Behave yoursel' before folk;
And dinna be sae rude to me,
As kiss me sae before folk.

It wadna gi'e me meikle pain,
Gin we were seen and heard by nane,
To tak' a kiss, or grant you ane;
But, guidsake! no before folk.
Behave yoursel' before folk,
Behave yoursel' before folk;
Whate'er ye do when out o' view,
Be cautious aye before folk.

Consider, lad, how folks will crack,
And what a great affair they'll mak’
O' naething but a simple smack
That's gi'en or ta'en before folk.
Behave yoursel' before folk,
Behave yoursel' before folk;
Nor gi'e the tongue o' auld or young
Occasion to come o'er folk.

It's no through hatred o' a kiss
That I sae plainly tell you this;
But, losh! I tak' it sair amiss
To be sae teased before folk.
Behave yoursel' before folk,
Behave yoursel' before folk;
When we're our lane, you may tak' ane.
But fient a ane before folk.

I'm sure wi' you I've been as free
As ony modest lass should be;
But yet it doesna do to see

Sic freedom used before folk.

But ne'er again gar't blush sae sair

As ye hae done before folk.

Behave yoursel' before folk,

Behave yoursel' before folk;

Nor heat my cheeks wi' your mad freaks,
But aye be douce before folk.

Ye tell me that my lips are sweet;
Sic tales I doubt are a' deceit ;
At ony rate, it's hardly meet

Το

pree their sweets before folk.
Behave yoursel' before folk,
Behave yoursel' before folk;

Gin that's the case there's time and place,
But surely no before folk.

But gin you really do insist

That I should suffer to be kiss'd,

Gae get a license frae the priest,
And mak' me yours before folk.
Behave yoursel' before folk,
Behave yoursel' before folk;

And when we're ane baith flesh and bane,

Ye may tak' ten before folk.

From "Whistle Binkie, or the Piper of the Party; a Collection of Songs for the Social Circle"-a very interesting series of modern songs, edited by Alexander Rodger, and published by David Robertson of Glasgow, between the years 1832 and 1846. This work, from which we have copied, with the kind permission of the late Mr. Robertson, the admirable songs of Rodger and others, contains some hundreds of songs, mostly original, which present, in the words of the preface to the collected edition published in 1846, "a remarkable instance of the universality of that peculiar talent for song-writing for which the natives of Scotland have always been distinguished.

THE

ANSWER TO "BEHAVE YOURSEL' BEFORE FOLK."

ALEXANDER RODGER. From "Whistle Binkie."

CAN I behave, can I behave,

Can I behave before folk,

When wily elf, your sleeky self,
Gars me gang gyte before folk?

In a' ye do, in a' ye say,
Ye've sic a pawkie coaxing way,
That my poor wits ye lead astray,
An' ding me doilt before folk.
Can I behave, can I behave,
Can I behave before folk;
While ye ensnare, can I forbear
A kissing ye before folk?

Can I behold that dimpling cheek,
Whar love 'mang sunny smiles might beek,

Yet howlet-like my eelids steek,

And shun sic light before folk?

Can I behave, can I behave,

Can I behave before folk,
When ilka smile becomes a wile,
Enticing me before folk?

That lip, like Eve's forbidden fruit,
Sweet, plump, an' ripe, sae tempts me t'ot,
That I maun pree't, though I should ruc't,
Ay twenty times before folk!
Can I behave, can I behave,
Can I behave before folk,
When temptingly it offers me
So rich a treat before folk?

That gowden hair sae sunny bright,
That shapely neck o' snowy white;
That tongue, e'en when it tries to flyte,
Provokes me till't before folk!