Page:Gems of Tannahill's songs, &c. &c..pdf/7

 7 So merrily we'll sing, As the storm rattles o'er us, 'Til the dear sheeling ring Wi' the light lilting chorus. Now the Summer is in prime, Wi' the flow'rs richly blooming, And the wild mountain thyme A' the moorlands perfuming. To our dear native scenes, Let us journey together, Where glad innocence reigns, 'Mang the braes o' Balquither.

JOHNNIE LAD. Och hey! Johnnie lad, Ye're no sae kind's ye should ha'e been, Och hey! Johnnie lad, Ye didna' keep your tryst yestreen. I waited lang beside the wood, Sae wae and weary a' my lane, Och hey! Johnnie lad, Ye're no sae kind's ye should ha'e been. I looked by the whinny knowe, I looked by the firs sae green, I looked o'er the spunkie howe, And aye I thought ye wad hae been, The ne'er a supper clos'd my craig, The ne'er a sleep has clos'd my e'en, Och hey! Johnnie lad, Ye're no sae kind's ye should ha'e been,