d them all at morn
Lowing sweet beside the byre.

Croumba's bard has second-sight,
And he'll moan the Gunna's plight,
When the frosts are flickering white,
And the kine are housed till day;
For he'll see him perched alone
On a chilly old grey stone,
Nibbling, nibbling at a bone
That we'll maybe throw away.

He's so hungry, he's so thin,
If he'd come we'd let him in,
For a rag of fox's skin
Is the only thing he'll wear.
He'll be chittering in the cold
As he hovers round the fold,
With his locks of glimmering gold
Twined about his shoulders bare.

THE GRUAGACH.

(MILKMAID'S SONG.)

The lightsome lad wi' yellow hair,
The elfin lad that is so fair,
He comes in rich and braw attire--
To loose the kine within the byre--

My lightsome lad, my leering lad,
He's tittering here; he's tittering there--
I'll hear him plain, but seek in vain
To find my lad wi' yellow hair.

He's dressed so fine, he's dressed so grand,
A supple switch is in his hand;
I've seen while I a-milking sat
The shadow of his beaver hat.

My lightsome lad, my leering lad,
He's tittering here; he's tittering there--
I'll hear him plain, but seek in vain
To find my lad wi' yellow hair.

My chuckling lad, so full o' fun,
Around the corners he will run;
Behind the door he'll sometimes jink,
And blow to make my candle blink.

My lightsome lad, my leering lad,
He's tittering here; he's tittering there--
I'll hear him plain, but seek in vain
To find my lad wi' yellow hair.

The elfin lad that is so braw,
He'll sometimes hide among the straw;
He's sometimes leering from the loft--
He's tittering low and tripping soft.

My lightsome lad, my leering lad,
He's tittering here; he's tittering there--
I'll hear him plain, but seek in vain
To find my lad wi' yellow hair.

And every time I'll milk the kine
He'll have his share--the luck be mine!
I'll pour it in yon hollowed stone,
He'll sup it when he's all alone--

My lightsome lad, my leering lad,
He's tittering here; he's tittering there--
I'll hear him plain, but seek in vain
To find my lad wi' yellow hair.

O me! if I'd his milk forget,
Nor cream, nor butter I would get;
Ye needna' tell--I ken full well--
On all my kine he'd cast his spell.

My lightsome lad, my leering lad,
He's tittering here; he's tittering there--
I'll hear him plain, but seek