He stepp-ed in, gave her a kiss, The royal belt he brought him wi' Her breath was strang, her hair was lang, And twisted twice about the tree; And with a swing she came about, "Come to Craigy's sea and kiss with me. "Here is a royal ring," she said, "That I have found in the green sea; And while your finger it is on, Drawn shall your blood never be; But if you touch me tail or fin, I swear my ring your death shall be." He stepp-ed in, gave her a kiss, The royal ring he brought him wi'; Her breath was strang, her hair was lang, And twisted ance about the tree; And with a swing she came about, "Come to Craigy's sea and kiss with me. "Here is a royal brand," she said, "That I have found in the green sea; And while your body it is on, Drawn shall your blood never be; But if you touch me tail or fin, I swear my brand your death shall be." He stepp-ed in, gave her a kiss, The royal brand he brought him wi'; Her breath was sweet, her hair grew short, And twisted nane about the tree: And smilingly she came about, As fair a woman, as fair could be. O'ER THE WATER TO CHARLIE. As I came by the shore o' Forth, And in by the craigs o' Bernie; There I spied a ship on the sea, And the skipper o' her was Charlie. O'er the water, and o'er the sea, O'er the water to Charlie; I'll gie John Ross another bawbie, To boat me o'er to Charlie. Charlie keeps nae needles nor pins, And Charlie keeps nae trappin'; But Charlie keeps twa bonnie black een, Would haud the lasses waukin'. O'er the water, and o'er the sea, O'er the water to Charlie; I'll gie John Ross another bawbie, To boat me o'er to Charlie. O Charlie is neither laird nor lord, Nor Charlie is a caddie; But Charlie has twa bonnie red cheeks, And he's my juggler laddie. O'er the water, and o'er the sea, O'er the water to Charlie; I'll gie John Ross another bawbie, To boat me o'er to Charlie. A pinch o' snuff to poison the whigs, A gill o' Geneva to drown them; And he that winna drink Charlie's health, May roaring seas surround him. O'er the water, and o'er the sea, And o'er the water to Charlie; I'll gie John Brown another half-crown, To boat me o'er to Charlie. ADMIRAL HOSIER'S GHOST. As near Porto-Bello lying On the gently swelling flood, At midnight with streamers flying Our triumphant navy rode; There while Vernon sate all-glorious From the Spaniards' late defeat: And his crews, with shouts victorious, Drank success to England's fleet: