Then aff wi’ his bannet gat Symon,
      And to the commander he gaes;
    Quo’ he, “Sir, I mean to gae wi’ ye, man,
      And help ye to lounder our faes.

    “I ’m auld, yet I ’m teugh as the wire,
      Sae we ’ll at the rogues have a dash,
    And, fegs, if my gun winna fire,
      I ’ll turn her butt-end, and I ’ll thrash.”

    “Well spoken, my hearty old hero,”
      The captain did smiling reply,
    But begg’d he wad stay till to-morrow,
      Till daylight should glent in the sky.

    Whatreck, a’ the stour cam to naething;
      Sae Symon, and Janet his dame,
    Hale skart frae the wars, without skaithing,
      Gaed bannin’ the French again hame.

COQUET WATER.

AIR—­"Braw Lads of Gala Water."

    Whan winter winds forget to blaw,
      An’ vernal suns revive pale nature,
    A shepherd lad by chance I saw,
      Feeding his flocks by Coquet water.

    Saft, saft he sung, in melting lays,
      His Mary’s charms an’ matchless feature,
    While echoes answer’d frae the braes,
      That skirt the banks of Coquet water.

    “Oh, were that bonnie lassie mine,”
      Quoth he, “in love’s saft wiles I’d daut her;
    An’ deem mysel’ as happy syne,
      As landit laird on Coquet water.

    “Let wealthy rakes for pleasure roam,
      In foreign lands their fortune fritter;
    But love’s pure joys be mine at home,
      Wi’ my dear lass on Coquet water.

    “Gie fine focks wealth, yet what care I,
      Gie me her smiles whom I lo’e better;
    Blest wi’ her love an’ life’s calm joy,
      Tending my flocks by Coquet water.

    “Flow fair an’ clear, thou bonnie stream,
      For on thy banks aft hae I met her;
    Fair may the bonnie wild-flowers gleam,
      That busk the banks of Coquet water.”

THE YOUNG MAID’S WISH FOR PEACE.

AIR—­"Far frae Hame,” &c.

    Fain wad I, fain wad I hae the bloody wars to cease,
    An’ the nations restored again to unity an’ peace;
    Then mony a bonnie laddie, that ’s now far owre the sea,
    Wad return to his lassie, an’ his ain countrie.

    My lad was call’d awa for to cross the stormy main,
    An’ to face the battle’s bray in the cause of injured Spain;
    But in my love’s departure hard fate has injured me,
    That has reft him frae my arms, an’ his ain countrie.

    When he bade me adieu, oh! my heart was like to break,
    An’ the parting tear dropp’d down for my dear laddie’s sake;
    Kind Heavens protect my Willie, wherever he be,
    An’ restore him to my arms, an’ his ain countrie.

    Yes, may the fates defend him upon that hostile shore,
    Amid the rage of battle, where thund’ring cannons roar;
    In the sad hour of danger, when deadly bullets flee,
    Far frae the peacefu’ plains of his ain countrie.