Ae day she came out, wi' a rosy blush,

To milk her twa kie, sae couthy and canny;

I cower'd me down at the back o' the bush,

To watch the air o' my bonny Nanny.
O, my Nanny, &c.

Her looks that stray'd o'er nature away,
Frae bonny blue een sae mild an' mellow,
Saw naething sae sweet in nature's array,
Though clad in the morning's gowden yellow.
O, my Nanny, &c.

My heart lay beating the flowery green

In quaking, quivering agitation,

An' the tears cam' tricklin' down frae my een,
Wi' perfect love an' wi' admiration.
O, my Nanny, &c.

There's mony a joy in this warld below,

An' sweet the hopes that to sing were uncanny

But of all the pleasures I ever can know,

There's nane like the love o' my bonny Nanny.

O, my Nanny!

My dear little Nanny!

My sweet little niddlety-noddlety Nanny!

There ne'er was a flower,

In garden or bower,

Like auld Joe Nicholson's bonny Nanny!

THE BROKEN HEART

Was written in detestation of the behaviour of a gentleman (can I call him so ?) to a dearly-beloved young relative of my own, and whom, at the time I wrote this, I never expected to recover from the shock her kind and affectionate heart had received. It has, however, turned out a lucky disappointment for her.

Now lock my chamber door, father,
And say you left me sleeping;
But never tell my step-mother
Of all this bitter weeping.

No earthly sleep can ease my smart,
Or even a while reprieve it;

For there's a pang at my young heart

That never more can leave it!

O, let me lie, and weep my fill

O'er wounds that heal can never;

And O, kind Heaven! were it thy will,
To close these eyes for ever;

For how can maid's affections dear
Recall her love mistaken?

Or how can heart of maiden bear
To know that heart forsaken ?

O, why should vows so fondly made,
Be broken ere the morrow,

To one who loved as never maid

Loved in this world of sorrow?

The look of scorn I cannot brave,
Nor pity's eye more dreary ;
A quiet sleep within the grave
Is all for which I weary!

Farewell, dear Yarrow's mountains green,

And banks of broom so yellow!

Too happy has this bosom been

Within your arbours mellow.

That happiness is fled for aye,
And all is dark desponding,

Save in the opening gates of day,

And the dear home beyond them!

may quote a stanza from

As a note to the above song, another poem written at the same time:

Woe to the guileful tongue that bred
This disappointment and this pain!
Cold-hearted villain! on his head

A minstrel's malison remain !
Guilt from his brow let ne'er depart,
Nor shame until his dying day;
For he has broke the kindest heart
That ever bow'd to nature's sway!

S