The bride cam' out o' the byre, And, oh, as she dighted her cheeks: 'Sirs, I'm to be married the night, And have neither blankets nor sheets; Have neither blankets nor sheets, Nor scarce a coverlet too; The bride that has a' thing to borrow, Has e'en right muckle ado.' Woo'd, and married, and a', Married, and woo'd, and a'! And was she nae very weel off, That was woo'd, and married, and a'? Out spake the bride's father, As he cam' in frae the pleugh: 'Oh, haud your tongue, my dochter, And ye'se get gear eneugh; The stirk stands i' the tether, And our braw bawsint yaud, Will carry ye hame your corn-- What wad ye be at, ye jaud?' Out spake the bride's mither: 'What deil needs a' this pride? I hadna a plack in my pouch That night I was a bride; My gown was linsey-woolsey, And ne'er a sark ava; And ye hae ribbons and buskins, Mae than ane or twa.' Out spake the bride's brither, As he cam' in wi' the kye: 'Poor Willie wad ne'er hae ta'en ye, Had he kent ye as weel as I; For ye're baith proud and saucy, And no for a poor man's wife; Gin I canna get a better, I'se ne'er tak ane i' my life.' THE BRITISH GRENADIERS ANONYMOUS Some talk of Alexander, and some of Hercules, Of Hector and Lysander, and such great names as these, But of all the world's great heroes, there's none that can compare, With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, to the British Grenadier! Those heroes of antiquity ne'er saw a cannon ball, Or knew the force of powder to slay their foes withal; But our brave boys do know it, and banish all their fears, Sing tow, row, row, row, row, row, for the British Grenadiers! Whene'er we are commanded to storm the palisades, Our leaders march with fuses, and we with hand grenades, We throw them from the glacis, about the enemies' ears, Sing tow, row, row, row, row, row, the British Grenadiers! And when the siege is over, we to the town repair, The townsmen cry, 'Hurrah, boys, here comes a Grenadier! Here come the Grenadiers, my boys, who know no doubts or fears!' Then sing, tow, row, row, row, row, row, the British Grenadiers! Then let us fill a bumper, and drink a health to those Who carry caps and pouches, and wear the loupèd clothes, May they and their commanders live happy all their years, With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, for the British Grenadiers! HERE'S TO THE MAIDEN ANONYMOUS Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen; Now to the widow of fifty; Here's to the flaunting extravagant quean, And here's to the housewife that's thrifty. Let the toast pass, Drink to the lass, I'll warrant she'll prove An excuse for the glass. Here's to the charmer whose dimples we prize, Now to the damsel with none, Sir, Here's to the girl with a pair of blue eyes, And now to the nymph with but one, Sir.