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LASSIE WI' THE LINT-WHITE LOCKS.

Words by Burns. Air-" Rothiemurchus' Rant." Key-note, B flat.

LASSIE wi' the lint-white locks,

Bonnie lassie, artless lassie,

Wilt thou wi' me tent the flocks,

Wilt thou be my dearie, O?

Now nature cleads the flowery lea,

And a' is young and sweet like thee;

O wilt thou share its joys wi' me,

And say thou'lt be my dearie, O?

Lassie wi', &c.

And when the welcome simmer-shower

Has cheer'd ilk drooping little flower,

We'll to the breathing woodbine bower,

At sultry noon, my dearie, O?

Lassie wi', &c.

When Cynthia lights, wi' silver ray,

The weary shearer's hameward way:

Thro' yellow-waving fields we'll stray,

And talk o' love, my dearie, O.

Lassie wi', &c.

And when the howling wintry blast.

Disturbs my lassiE's midnight rest,

Enclasped to my faithfu' breast,

I'll comfort thee, my dearie, O.

Lassie wi', &c.

WHISTLE O'ER THE LAVE O'T. Words by BURNS. Air very old. Key-note F.

First when Maggy was my care,

Heaven I thought was in her air,

Now we're married, speer nae mair,

But whistle o'er the lave o't.

Meg was meek and Meg was mild,

Sweet and harmless as a child,

Wiser men than me's beguil'd;

Sae whistle o'er the lave o't.

How we live, my Meg and me,

How we love, and how we gree,

I carena by how few may see;

Sae whistle o'er the lave o't.

Wha I wish were maggots' meat,

Dish'd up in her winding-sheet,

I could write—but Meg wad see't,

Sae whistle o'er the lave o't.