XLV. BONNY PEGGY, O. AIR-Bonny lassie, O. O we aft hae met at e'en, bonny Peggy, O, Far aneath the roaring lin, Far frae busy strife and din, bonny Peggy, O. When the lately crimson west, bonny Peggy, O, In her darker robe was drest, bonny Peggy, O, And a sky of azure blue, Deck'd with stars of golden hue, Rose majestic to the view, bonny Peggy, O, When the sound of flute or horn, bonny Peggy, O, On the gale of evening borne, bonny Peggy, O, We have heard in echoes die, While the wave that rippl'd by, Sung a soft and sweet reply, bonny Peggy, O. Then how happy would we rove, bonny Peggy, O, Whilst thou blushing own'd thy love, bonny Peggy, O, Whilst thy quickly throbbing breast To my beating heart I press'd, Ne'er was mortal half so blest, bonny Peggy, O. Now, alas! these scenes are o'er, bonny Peggy, O; Will we meet at summer e'en, On the banks of Cart sae green, bonny Peggy, O. Yet hadst thou been true to me, bonny Peggy, O, Had I hail'd the coming night, And yon evening-star so bright, bonny Peggy, O. XLVI. HERE'S TO THY HEALTH, MY BONNIE LASS. Here's to thy health, my bonnie lass, Thou'rt aye sae free informing, I kend thy friends try ilka means, I kend they scorn my low estate, For I'm as free as ony he, Sma' siller will relieve me, I'll count my health my greatest wealth, I'll fear nae scant, I'll bode nae want, But far aff fowls hae feathers fair, Tho' they seem fair still have a care, XLVII. I'VE NO SHEEP ON THE MOUNTAINS. I've no sheep on the mountains, nor boat on the lake, Nor coin in my coffer to keep me awake; No corn in my garner, nor fruit on my tree, Yet the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me. Softly tapping, at eve, to her window I came, Tho' the maid of Llanwellyn smiles sweetly on me. Rich Owen will tell you, with eyes full of scorn, The farmer rides proudly to market and fair, And the clerk, at the ale-house, still claims the great chair, For blythe as the urchin at holiday play, Is the maid of Llanwellyn who smiles upon me. |