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10
WHA’S AT THE WINDOW, WHA?
Words by Alex. Ca.ki.yle. Music by R. A. Smith.
Wha’s at the window, wha, wha ?
O wha’s at the window, wha, wha?
Wha but blithe Jamie Glen,
He’s come sax miles and ten,
To tak bonnie Jeanie awa, awa,
To tak bonnie Jeanie awa.
Bridal maidens are braw, braw,
O bridal maidens are braw, braw ;
But the bride’s modest e’e,
And warm cheek are to me,
’Boon pearlens and brooches, an’ a’, an’ a’,
’Boon pearlens and brooches, an’ a’.
There’s mirth on the green, in the ha’, the ha’.
There’s mirth on the green, in the ha’, the ha’.
There’s laughing, there’s quailing,
There’s jesting, there's dathng,
But the bride’s lather’s blithest of a’, of a’,
But. the bride’s father's blithest of a’,
It’s no that she’s Jamie’s ava, ava,
It's no that she’s Jamie’s ava, ava,
That my heart is sae weary,
When a’ the lave’s cheerie,
But it’s just that she’ll aye be awa, awa,
But it’s just that she’ll aye be awa.
—=0 v cr--^— —-
THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.
Words by Sins. Cockburx. Air vAv/ old:
Music arranytd for the Piano-Forle by R. A. Smith. Key-nob! A
I’ve seen the smiling of fortune beguiling,
I’ve felt all its favours, and found its decay ;
Sweet was its blessing, and kind its caressing,
But now it]is fled, it is fled far away:
I’ve seen the forest adorned the foremost
With flowers of the fairest, most pleasant and gay ;
So bonny was their blooming, their scent the air perfum-
But now they are wither’d and weeded away. [ing,
I’ve seen the morning with gold the hills adorning,
And loud tempest storming before the mid-day ;
I’ve seen Tweed’s silver streams glittering in the sunny
Grow drumly and dark as ho row’d on his way. [beams,
O ! fickle fortune, why this cruel sporting—
O ! udiy still perplex us poor sons of a day?
No more your smiles can cheer me; no more your
frowns can fear me,
For the flowers of the forest are wither’d away.
WHA’S AT THE WINDOW, WHA?
Words by Alex. Ca.ki.yle. Music by R. A. Smith.
Wha’s at the window, wha, wha ?
O wha’s at the window, wha, wha?
Wha but blithe Jamie Glen,
He’s come sax miles and ten,
To tak bonnie Jeanie awa, awa,
To tak bonnie Jeanie awa.
Bridal maidens are braw, braw,
O bridal maidens are braw, braw ;
But the bride’s modest e’e,
And warm cheek are to me,
’Boon pearlens and brooches, an’ a’, an’ a’,
’Boon pearlens and brooches, an’ a’.
There’s mirth on the green, in the ha’, the ha’.
There’s mirth on the green, in the ha’, the ha’.
There’s laughing, there’s quailing,
There’s jesting, there's dathng,
But the bride’s lather’s blithest of a’, of a’,
But. the bride’s father's blithest of a’,
It’s no that she’s Jamie’s ava, ava,
It's no that she’s Jamie’s ava, ava,
That my heart is sae weary,
When a’ the lave’s cheerie,
But it’s just that she’ll aye be awa, awa,
But it’s just that she’ll aye be awa.
—=0 v cr--^— —-
THE FLOWERS OF THE FOREST.
Words by Sins. Cockburx. Air vAv/ old:
Music arranytd for the Piano-Forle by R. A. Smith. Key-nob! A
I’ve seen the smiling of fortune beguiling,
I’ve felt all its favours, and found its decay ;
Sweet was its blessing, and kind its caressing,
But now it]is fled, it is fled far away:
I’ve seen the forest adorned the foremost
With flowers of the fairest, most pleasant and gay ;
So bonny was their blooming, their scent the air perfum-
But now they are wither’d and weeded away. [ing,
I’ve seen the morning with gold the hills adorning,
And loud tempest storming before the mid-day ;
I’ve seen Tweed’s silver streams glittering in the sunny
Grow drumly and dark as ho row’d on his way. [beams,
O ! fickle fortune, why this cruel sporting—
O ! udiy still perplex us poor sons of a day?
No more your smiles can cheer me; no more your
frowns can fear me,
For the flowers of the forest are wither’d away.
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Chapbooks printed in Scotland > Scotland/Scots > Scottish minstrel > (10) |
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Permanent URL | https://digital.nls.uk/108618487 |
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Description | Over 3,000 chapbooks published in Scotland in the 18th and 19th centuries. Subjects include courtship, humour, occupations, fairs, apparitions, war, politics, crime, executions, Jacobites, transvestites, and freemasonry. Chapbooks are small booklets of 8, 12, 16 and 24 pages, often illustrated with crude woodcuts. Produced cheaply and sold by peddlars on the streets, they formed the staple reading material of the common people, along with broadsides. |
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