"Gar saddle the black horse, gar saddle the brown; Gar saddle the swiftest steed e'er rade frae the town;" But lang ere the horse was brought round to the green, O bonnie Glenlogie was twa mile his lane. When he cam' to Glenfeldy's door, sma' mirth was there; Bonnie Jean's mother was tearing her hair; "Ye're welcome, Glenlogie, ye're welcome," said she "Ye're welcome, Glenlogie, your Jeanie to see." Pale and wan was she, when Glenlogie gaed ben, But red rosy grew she whene'er he sat down; She turned awa' her head, but the smile was in her e'e; "O binna feared, mither, I'll maybe no dee." * * * * * GET UP AND BAR THE DOOR It fell about the Martinmas time, And a gay time it was than, That our gudewife had puddings to mak' And she boil'd them in the pan. The wind blew cauld frae east and north, And blew intil the floor; Quoth our gudeman to our gudewife, "Get up and bar the door." "My hand is in my hussyskep, Gudeman, as ye may see; An it shou'dna be barr'd this hunder year, It's ne'er be barr'd by me." They made a paction 'tween them twa, They made it firm and sure, That the first word whaever spak, Should rise and bar the door. Than by there came twa gentlemen, At twelve o'clock at night, Whan they can see na ither house, And at the door they light. "Now whether is this a rich man's house, Or whether is it a poor?" But ne'er a word wad ane o' them speak, For barring of the door. And first they ate the white puddings, And syne they ate the black: Muckle thought the gudewife to hersell, Yet ne'er a word she spak. Then ane unto the ither said, "Here, man, tak ye my knife; Do ye tak aff the auld man's beard, And I'll kiss the gudewife." "But there's na water in the house, And what shall we do than?" "What ails ye at the pudding bree That boils into the pan?" O up then started our gudeman, An angry man was he; "Will ye kiss my wife before my een, And scaud me wi' pudding bree?" O up then started our gudewife, Gied three skips on the floor; "Gudeman, ye've spak the foremost word; Get up and bar the door." * * * * * THE LAWLANDS O' HOLLAND. "The luve that I hae chosen, I'll therewith be content; The saut sea sail be frozen Before that I repent. Repent it sall I never Until the day I dee; But the Lawlands o' Holland Hae twinned my luve and me. "My luve he built a bonny ship, And set her to the main, Wi' twenty-four brave mariners To sail her out and hame. But the weary wind began to rise, The sea began to rout, And my luve and his bonny ship Turned withershins about. "There sall nae mantle cross my back, No kaim gae in my hair, Sall neither coal nor candle-light Shine in my bower mair; Nor sall I choose anither luve Until the day I dee, Sin' the Lawlands o' Holland Hae twinned my luve and me."