Part 11

Yestreen I gaed a waefu' gait, I tramped o'er moss an' fen Tae haud a tryst wi' Bonnie Kate In Moraig's fairy glen. Ye Banks an' Braes o' Bonnie Doon, The Lass o' Ballochmyle, An' ye shall walk in silk attire Wi' Mary o' Argyle.

CHORUS.

Braw, Braw Lads on Yarrow Braes, Wi' Rabbie's Bonnie Jean, Royal Chairlie's noo awa', An' Jock o' Hazeldean. Gae bring tae me a pint o' wine, Get up an' bar the door. Guidnicht, an' joy be wi' ye a', My bark is on the shore.

MY AULD VIOLIN.

When I was a callan jist entered my teens, Wi' my ain penny savin's an' help o' my freens, I managed tae gether a pickle o' tin Tae buy ye in Glesca, my auld violin.

I min' when I got ye hoo prood I was then, I couldna' been mair sae tho' laird o' the glen; As I lovingly cuddled ye under my chin I vowed I wad cherish my auld violin.

The first time I tried ye yer notes soonded queer, But at scrapin' an' shiftin' I did persevere; "The Last Rose o' Simmer" and "Father O'Flynn" I sune learned tae play on my auld violin.

I thocht when I'd learned weel tae han'le the bow There had ne'er been aic-like since the days o' Neil Gow; For Skinner or Murdoch I cared na a pin As I drew oot the chords frae my auld violin.

Ye gaed tae the concerts, the waddin's, and balls, An' encores were rife frae the pit an' the stalls; An' the youths wi' the dancin' were fain tae begin When they heard the blithe lilt o' my auld violin.

Tho' hard be my fortune an' sair be my toil Tae gain me a leevin' frae mine or frae soil, I'll sit by the fire when my day's darg is dune, An' drive awa' care wi' my auld violin.

When the Trumpet shall soun' an' the ca' shall go forth, Tae the east, tae the wast, tae the sooth, an' the north, When they that are ready shall be a' gethered in, I fain wad be there wi' my auld violin.

THE AULD THACKIT HOOSE.

I'll sing ye a sang aboot the days o' langsyne When the thochts o' the past are the first on my min'; Then many happy days I spent when I was young In the Auld Thackit Hoose on the braes o' the burn.

My faither an' my mither, sae canty an' sae croose, Were happy wi' their bairns in their ain auld hoose; Noo they're sleepin' in the mools an' sair dae I murn, In the Auld Thackit Hoose on the braes o' the burn.

My brithers an' my sisters hae a' taen their flicht, An' they're far frae the bield whaur they first saw the licht; But I'm shair that in longin' their thochts aften turn Tae the Auld Thackit Hoose on the braes o' the burn.

Noo I'm gettin' auld an' doited an' I'm wearin' awa' Tae the land whaur there's nae pain nor sorrow ava', An' lanesome I'm waitin' till the Maister says, Come, Frae the Auld Thackit Hoose on the braes o' the burn.

THE AULD GREY GLEN.

WANLOCK.

Sixty years hae gane an' mair, an' yet I mind fu' weel, When I was but a laddie jist ready for the schule, The bonnie strappin' lassies an' the brawny stalwart men Reared amang the heather in the Auld Grey Glen.

Each hame was warm in winter an' cool 'neath simmer sun, Built against the hillside wi' routh o' lime an' whun; Nae drawin'-room or parlour but jist a but an' ben, Weel theekit ower wi' heather in the Auld Grey Glen.

Tae meet wi' yin anither we cheerily wad gang, An' be happy a' thegither wi' a guid auld sang; Tho' puir we helped ilk ither an' wad borrow an' wad len', 'Twas a rale communal system in the Auld Grey Glen.

The lads when gaun a-coortin' in guid hamespun were dressed, Wi' braw Balmoral bonnets, a heidgear o' the best; Nae hats wi' gaudy feathers had Mary, Mag, or Jen-- They were cuddled 'neath a plaidie in the Auld Grey Glen.

Tho' customs, fashions a' hae changed the spirit's still the same, An' we're ready aye tae play oor pairts for country an' for hame, Oor dearest, bravest laddies we wullingly did sen' Tae fecht for love and honour an' the Auld Grey Glen.

LEVEL NO. 6.

Song. Tune, "Bound to be a Row."

Come a' ye jolly miners an' listen tae ma sang, An' then in pity drap a tear as doon the vale ye gang, For a puir unlucky chappie wha's been in mony a fix, An' is noo a powny driver doon in Level No. 6.

CHORUS.

In Level No. 6--in Level No. 6. Yer sorrows are nae far tae seek, In Level No. 6.