“Our bonnie bairn’s there, John, She was baith good and fair, John; And, oh! we grudged her sair To the land o’ the leal. But sorrow’s sel’ wears past, John, And joy’s a-comin’ fast, John— The joy that’s aye to last, In the land o’ the leal. “Sae dear’s that joy was bought, John, Sae free the battle fought, John, That sinfu’ man ne’er brought To the land o’ the leal. Oh, dry your glistening e’e, John! My soul langs to be free, John; And angels beckon me To the land o’ the leal. “Oh, haud ye leal and true, John! Your day it’s wearin’ through, John; And I’ll welcome you To the land o’ the leal. Now fare-ye-weel, my ain John, This warld’s cares are vain, John; We’ll meet, and we’ll be fain, In the land o’ the leal.” The humorous and highly popular song entitled “The Laird o’ Cockpen,” was composed by Lady Nairne, in room of the older words connected with the air, “When she cam’ ben, she bobbit.” This is a song which every member of every Scotch audience has heard crooned or chirped in glee and waggery. It is matchless alike as respects scene and _dramatis personæ_, its fine suggestive touches, and its Scotch _wut_. The present Laird of Cockpen is the Earl of Dalhousie, an elder of the Free Church of Scotland, and grand-master of the Masonic Lodge of Scotland. We shall give this song also entire. The different style illustrates the genius of the authoress. “The Laird o’ Cockpen he’s proud and he’s great, His mind is ta’en up with the things o’ the state; He wanted a wife his braw house to keep, But favour wi’ wooin’ was fashious to seek. “Down by the dyke-side a lady did dwell, At his table-head he thought she’d look well; M’Clish’s ae daughter o’ Claverse-ha’ Lee, A penniless lass wi’ a lang pedigree. “His wig was weel pouthered and as gude as new; His waistcoat was white, his coat it was blue; He put on a ring, a sword, and cocked hat; And wha could refuse the laird wi’ a’ that? “He took the gray mare, and rade cannily, And rapped at the yett o’ Claverse-ha’ Lee: ‘Gae tell mistress Jean to come speedily ben, She’s wanted to speak to the Laird o’ Cockpen.’ “Mistress Jean was makin’ the elder-flower wine: ‘And what brings the laird at sic a like time?’ She put aff her apron, and on her silk gown, Her mutch wi’ red ribbons, and gaed awa down.