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Bonnie Doon.-
Ye banks and braes of bonnie Doon,
How can ye bloom lb frelh an’ fair ?
How can your blue ftream row fo clear,
When I’m fo weary fu’ o care ?
Ye’ll break, my heart, ye little birds,
That wanton on the flowery thorn,
Ye mind me of departed joys,
Departed never to return.
Aft have I {fray’d by bonnie Doon,
To fee tire rofe and woodbine twine,
Wh are ilka bird fang of its love,
And fae did I wi’ glee of mine.
With heartfome hlee 1 pu d the rofe,
Ihe iweeteif on its thorny tree.
But my faufe love has flown the rofe,
And oh, he’s left the thorn wi’ me.
The Sower's Return.
When wild war’s deadly blaft was blawn,
And gentle peace returning,
And eves again with pieaiure beam’d,
That had been blear’d with mourning;
I left the lines and tented field,
Where lang I’d been a lodger,
My humble knapfack a’my wealth,
A poor, but honefl Sodger.
A leal light heart beat in my bread,
My hand unltain’d wi’ plunder ;
And for fair Scotia hame, again,
I chedry on did wander.
I thought upon the banks o-’ Coil,.
I thought upon ray Nancy,

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