e fellowship sowthers it a':
When at the blythe end o' our journey at last,
Wha the deil ever thinks o' the road he has past?
Contented wi' little, &c.

Blind Chance, let her snapper and stoyte on her way;
Be't to me, be't frae me, e'en let the jade gae:
Come Ease, or come Travail, come Pleasure or Pain,
My warst word is: "Welcome, and welcome again!"
Contented wi' little, &c.

Farewell Thou Stream

Air--"Nansie's to the greenwood gane."

Farewell, thou stream that winding flows
Around Eliza's dwelling;
O mem'ry! spare the cruel thoes
Within my bosom swelling.
Condemn'd to drag a hopeless chain
And yet in secret languish;
To feel a fire in every vein,
Nor dare disclose my anguish.

Love's veriest wretch, unseen, unknown,
I fain my griefs would cover;
The bursting sigh, th' unweeting groan,
Betray the hapless lover.
I know thou doom'st me to despair,
Nor wilt, nor canst relieve me;
But, O Eliza, hear one prayer--
For pity's sake forgive me!

The music of thy voice I heard,
Nor wist while it enslav'd me;
I saw thine eyes, yet nothing fear'd,
Till fears no more had sav'd me:
Th' unwary sailor thus, aghast
The wheeling torrent viewing,
'Mid circling horrors sinks at last,
In overwhelming ruin.

Canst Thou Leave Me Thus, My Katie

Tune--"Roy's Wife."

Chorus--Canst thou leave me thus, my Katie?
Canst thou leave me thus, my Katie?
Well thou know'st my aching heart,
And canst thou leave me thus, for pity?

Is this thy plighted, fond regard,
Thus cruelly to part, my Katie?
Is this thy faithful swain's reward--
An aching, broken heart, my Katie!
Canst thou leave me, &c.

Farewell! and ne'er such sorrows tear
That finkle heart of thine, my Katie!
Thou maysn find those will love thee dear,
But not a love like mine, my Katie,
Canst thou leave me, &c.

My Nanie's Awa

Tune--"There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame."

Now in her green mantle blythe Nature arrays,
And listens the lambkins that bleat o'er her braes;
While birds warble welcomes in ilka green shaw,
But to me it's delightless--my Nanie's awa.

The snawdrap and primrose our woodlands adorn,
And violetes bathe in the weet o' the morn;