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There's nae a lass in Scotia's isle, Can vie wi' her amang the heather.

I said, “Fair maid be not afraid, Come sit ye down, let's talk together; For O my dear, I vow and swear, You've stown my heart amang the heather, O'er the muin, &c. If I were King you should be Queen, Sweet bonny lass amang the heather.

Away she few out of my view, Her name nor home I ne'er could gather; But ay since syne I sigh and pine, For the sweet lass amang the heather. O'er the muir, &c. Till life's warm stream shall cease to flow, I'll love the lass amang the heather.

Caledonia Triumphant

WE ſons of old Scotia, with hearts true as ſteel, Enrapturd our Anceſtors' ſpirit we feel: Riſing equal to danger, thus boldly we dare Bid the Corſican tyrant of us to beware, For tho' Gallia ſubmits to his haughty decree, Yet old Caledonia ſhall always be free, For tho' Gallia, &c

FINGAL, With bio heroes ſet bound'ried to Rome, And their gallant foeceſſors were ne'er overcome; The Dares and fierce Saxons with broad ſwords ſhields, Were conquer'd in thouſands, and died on our ſick