How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below, Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow; There oft as mild ev'ning weeps over the lea, The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me. Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, And winds by the cot where my Mary resides; How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave, As gathering sweet flow'rets she stems thy clear wave. Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays; My Mary 's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. FOR THE SAKE OF SOMEBODY MY heart is sair, I daurna tell, My heart is sair for Somebody; I could wake a winter night, For the sake o' Somebody! Oh-hon! for Somebody! Oh-hey! for Somebody! I could range the world around, For the sake o' Somebody. Ye powers that smile on virtuous love, O, sweetly smile on Somebody! Frae ilka danger keep him free, And send me safe my Somebody. Oh-hon! for Somebody! Oh-hey! for Somebody! I wad do--what wad I not? For the sake o' Somebody! WHISTLE, AND I 'LL COME TO YE, MY LAD O WHISTLE, and I'll come to ye, my lad; O whistle, and I'll come to ye, my lad: Tho' father and mither and a' should gae mad, O whistle, and I'll come to ye, my lad. But warily tent, when ye come to court me, And come na unless the back-yett be a-jee; Syne up the back-stile, and let naebody see, And come as ye were na comin' to me. At kirk, or at market, whene'er ye meet me, Gang by me as tho' that ye car'd na a flie But steal me a blink o' your bonie black ee, Yet look as ye were na lookin' at me. Aye vow and protest that ye care na for me, And whiles ye may lightly my beauty a wee; But court na anither, tho jokin' ye be, For fear that she wyle your fancy frae me. O whistle, and I'll come to ye, my lad; O whistle, and I 'll come to ye, my lad: Tho' father and mither and a' should gae mad, O whistle, and I'll come to ye, my lad. THE DE'IL'S AWA' WI' THE EXCISEMAN THE De'il cam fiddling thro' the town, And danc'd awa wi' the Exciseman; And ilka wife cry'd 'Auld Mahoun, We wish you luck o' your prize, man. 'We'll mak our maut, and brew our drink, We'll dance, and sing, and rejoice, man; And monie thanks to the muckle black De'il That danc'd awa wi' the Exciseman. 'There's threesome reels, and foursome reels, There's hornpipes and strathspeys, man; But the ae best dance that cam to our lan', Was--the De'il 's awa wi' the Exciseman. We'll mak our maut, and brew our drink, We'll dance, and sing, and rejoice, man; And monie thanks to the muckle black De'il That danc'd awa wi' the Exciseman.' LASSIE WI' THE LINT-WHITE LOCKS LASSIE wi' the lint-white locks, Bonie lassie, artless lassie, Wilt thou wi' me tent the flocks? Wilt thou be my dearie O? Now nature cleeds the flowery lea, And a' is young and sweet like thee; O wilt thou share its joys wi' me, And say thou'lt be my dearie O? Lassie wi' the lint-white locks . . .