cloud I can laugh a loud, And I care not how sul - ky he

A mild harvest night, by the tranquil light

Of the modest and gentle moon,
Has a far sweeter sheen for me, I ween,
Than the broad and unblushing noon.

But every leaf awakens my grief,

As it lieth beneath the tree :

So let autumn air be never so fair,
It by no means agrees with me."
Let the summer sun, &c.

But my song I troll out, for Christmas stout,
The hearty, the true, and the bold:
A bumper I drain, and with might and main
Give three cheers for this Christmas .d.

We'll usher him in with a merry din,

That shall gladden his joyous heart,
And we'll keep him up, while there's bit or sup,
And in fellowship good we'll part.

Let the summer sun, &c.

In his fine honest pride, he scorns to hide
One jot of his hard-weather scars:
They're no disgrace, for there's much the same tracs
On the cheeks of our bravest tars.

Then again I sing, till the roof doth ring,
And it echoes from wall to wall-

To the stout old wight, fair welcome to-night,
As the king of the seasons all!
Let the summer sun, &c.

BONNY BET, SWEET BLOSSOM.
Composed by Shield.

the town-bred fair, Who shines in ar- ti fi-cial beau-ty; For

na-tive charms with - out com-pare Claim all my love, respect, and duty.

O! my bon-ny, bon-ny Bet, sweet blossom, O! my bon-ny, bon-ny Bet, sweet blossom.

SONG OF THE MARINERS.

Poetry by Eliza Cook; Music by Henry Russell.-Published in Davidson's Cheap an Uniform Edition of his Compositions.

WALY, WALY.
Ancient Scotch Song.

trus ty
O! waly, waly I love is bonnie,
A little time, while it is new;
But when it's auld, it waxeth cauld,
And fades away like morning dew.
O! wherefore should I busk my head?
Or wherefore should I kame my hair?
For my true love has me forsook,
And says he'll never love me mair.

tree; But first it bow'd, and syne it brake, And sae did my true love to me.

Now Arthur's Seat shall be my bed,

The sheets shall ne'er be warm'd by me;
St. Anton's Well shall be my drink,
Since my true love's forsaken me.

O! Mart'mas wind, when wilt thou blaw,
And shake the green leaves aff the tree
O! gentle Death, when wilt thou come,
And tak that life that wearies me?

Let us

haste to Kel-vin grove, bon-ny las-sie, O! Through its

ma-zes let us

rove, bon-ny lassie, O! Where the rose in all its pride paints the hol-low din-gle side, Where the

mid-night fai-ries glide, bon-ny las-sie, 01 We will wan-der by the mill, bon-ny

glens re-bound the call of the lof-ty wa-ter-fall, Thro' the moun-tain's rock - y

moun -tain's rocky hall, bon-ny las-sie, O!

hall, bon-ny las sie, O! Thro' the
Then we'll up to yonder glade, bonny lassie, O!
Where so oft beneath the shade, bonny lassie, O!
With the songsters in the grove,
We have told our tale of love,
And have sportive garlands wove, bonny lassie, O!
O! I soon must bid adieu, bonny lassie, O!!
To this fairy scene and you, bonny lassie, O!
To the streamlet winding clear,

To the fragrant scented bier,

E'en to thee. of all most dear, bonny lassie, O

O! NO, MY LOVE, NO

Words by G. M. Lewis; Music by M. Kelly. -Published by Davidson.

While I hang on your bo- som distracted to leave you, High swells my sad

fast my tears flow; Yet think not of cold-ness they fall to ac