BOY'S SONG JAMES HOGG 'HERE the pools are bright and deep, W Where the gray trout lies asleep, Up the river, and o'er the lea, That's the way for Billy and me. Where the blackbird sings the latest, Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest, Where the nestings chirp and flee, That's the way for Billy and me. Where the mowers mow the cleanest, Where the hazel bank is steepest, Why the boys should drive away CHARLIE IS MY DARLING JAMES HOGG WAS on a Monday morning, TWA Right early in the year, That Charlie came to our town, The young Chevalier. And Charlie he's my darling, My darling, my darling, As Charlie he came up the gate, And ilka bonnie lassie sang, As to the door she ran, "Our king shall hae his ain again, And Charlie is the man: And Charlie he's my darling, My darling, my darling, Out-owre yon moory mountain, And Charlie he's my darling, My darling, my darling, Our Highland hearts are true and leal, And glow without a stain; Our Highland swords are metal keen, And Charlie he's our ain. And Charlie he's my darling, My darling, my darling, THE THRUSH'S NEST JOHN CLARE ITHIN a thick and spreading hawthorn bush, I watch'd her secret toils from day to day, THE PRIEST AND THE MULBERRY TREE THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK ID you hear of the curate who mounted his mare, Of creature more tractable none ever heard; In the height of her speed she would stop at a word; But again with a word, when the curate said, "Hey," She put forth her mettle and gallop'd away. As near to the gates of the city he rode, The curate was hungry and thirsty to boot; He shrunk from the thorns, though he long'd for the fruit; With a word he arrested his courser's keen speed, And he stood up erect on the back of his steed; On the saddle he stood while the creature stood still, And he gather'd the fruit till he took his good fill. |