When the drums do beat, and the cannons rattle, Thou shalt sit in state, and see thy love in battle: When the drums do beat, and the cannons rattle, Thou shalt sit in state, and see thy love in battle. O mount and go, &c. When the vanquish’d foe sues for peace and quiet, To the shades we’ll go, and in love enjoy it: When the vanquish’d foe sues for peace and quiet, To the shades we’ll go, and in love enjoy it. O mount and go, &c. John Anderson, My Jo John Anderson, my jo, John, When we were first acquent; Your locks were like the raven, Your bonie brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John, Your locks are like the snaw; But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson, my jo. John Anderson, my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither; And mony a cantie day, John, We’ve had wi’ ane anither: Now we maun totter down, John, And hand in hand we’ll go, And sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson, my jo. My Love, She’s But A Lassie Yet My love, she’s but a lassie yet, My love, she’s but a lassie yet; We’ll let her stand a year or twa, She’ll no be half sae saucy yet; I rue the day I sought her, O! I rue the day I sought her, O! Wha gets her needs na say she’s woo’d, But he may say he’s bought her, O. Come, draw a drap o’ the best o’t yet, Come, draw a drap o’ the best o’t yet, Gae seek for pleasure whare you will, But here I never miss’d it yet, We’re a’ dry wi’ drinkin o’t, We’re a’ dry wi’ drinkin o’t; The minister kiss’d the fiddler’s wife; He could na preach for thinkin o’t. Song—Tam Glen My heart is a-breaking, dear Tittie, Some counsel unto me come len’, To anger them a’ is a pity, But what will I do wi’ Tam Glen? I’m thinking, wi’ sic a braw fellow, In poortith I might mak a fen; What care I in riches to wallow, If I maunna marry Tam Glen! There’s Lowrie the Laird o’ Dumeller— “Gude day to you, brute!” he comes ben: He brags and he blaws o’ his siller, But when will he dance like Tam Glen! My minnie does constantly deave me, And bids me beware o’ young men; They flatter, she says, to deceive me, But wha can think sae o’ Tam Glen! My daddie says, gin I’ll forsake him, He’d gie me gude hunder marks ten; But, if it’s ordain’d I maun take him, O wha will I get but Tam Glen! Yestreen at the Valentine’s dealing, My heart to my mou’ gied a sten’; For thrice I drew ane without failing, And thrice it was written “Tam Glen”! The last Halloween I was waukin My droukit sark-sleeve, as ye ken, His likeness came up the house staukin, And the very grey breeks o’ Tam Glen!