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Their steps to martial airs agreeing, And a' the Seven Trades' colours fleeing, Bent for the Craigs, O! weel worth seeing! They hied awa;

Their bauld convener proud o' being
The chief ower a'!

Attended by his body-guard,
He stepp'd in gracefu'ness unpair'd!
Straught as the poplar on the swaird,
And strong as Samson,
Nae e'e cou'd look without regard
On Robin Tamson!

His craft, the Hammermen, fu' braw, Led the procession, twa and twa: The leddies waved their napkins a'

And boys huzza'd,

As onward to the wapinshaw

They stately strade!

Close to the Hammermen, behold,
The Squaremen1 come like chiefs of old!
The Weavers, syne, there flags unfold;
And, after them,

The Tailors walk, erect and bold,
Intent on fame!

The Sutors, o' King Crispin vain,
March next in turn to the campaign;
And, while the crowd applauds again,
See, too, the Tanners,
Extending far the glitt'ring train

O' guns and banners!

The Fleshers, on this joyous day,
Bring up the rearward in array :
Enarm'd, they mak a grand display-
A' jolly chiels,

Able, in ony desp'rate fray,

To feght like deils!

The journeymen were a' sae gaucy,
Th' apprentices sae kir2 and saucy,
That, as they gaed alang the causey,
Ahint them a',
Th' applauding heart o' mony a lassie
Was stown awa!

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Perfume, congenial to the clime, The sweetest in the sweetest time! The merry bells, in jocund chime, Rang through the air, And minstrels play'd in strains sublime, To charm the fair!

And fairer than our Nithsdale fair, Or handsomer, there's nane elsewhere! Pure as the streams that murmur there, In them ye'll find

That virtue and the graces rare

Are a' enshrin'd!

Lang may the bonnie bairns recline On plenty's bosom, saft and kind! And, O! may I, ere life shall dwine To its last scene,

Return, and a' my sorrows tine,
At hame again!

LOGAN'S BRAES.

"By Logan's streams that rin sae deep,
Fu' aft wi' glee I've herded sheep;
Herded sheep, or gathered slaes,
Wi' my dear lad, on Logan braes.
But wae's my heart! thae days are gane,
And I, wi' grief, may herd alane;
While my dear lad maun face his faes,
Far, far frae me and Logan braes.

"Nae mair at Logan kirk will he
Atween the preachings meet wi' me;
Meet wi' me, or when it's mirk,
Convoy me hame frae Logan kirk.
I weel may sing thae days are gane—
Frae kirk an' fair I come alane,
While my dear lad maun face his faes,
Far, far frae me and Logan braes!

"At e'en, when hope amaist is gane,
I dauner out, or sit alane,
Sit alane beneath the tree
Where aft he kept his tryst wi' me.
O! cou'd I see thae days again,
My lover skaithless, an' my ain!
Belov'd by frien's, rever'd by faes,
We'd live in bliss on Logan braes."

While for her love she thus did sigh,1 She saw a sodger passing by, Passing by wi' scarlet claes, While sair she grat on Logan braes. Says he, "What gars thee greet sae sair,

What fills thy heart sae fu' o' care? Thae sporting lambs hae blithesome days,

An' playfu' skip on Logan braes."

"What can I do but weep and mourn?
I fear my lad will ne'er return,
Ne'er return to ease my waes,
Will ne'er come hame to Logan braes."
Wi' that he clasp'd her in his arms,
And said, "I'm free from war's alarms,
I now ha'e conquer'd a' my faes,
We'll happy live on Logan braes."

Then straight to Logan kirk they went,
And join'd their hands wi' one consent,
Wi' one consent to end their days,
An' live in bliss on Logan braes.
An' now she sings, "thae days are

gane,

When I wi' grief did herd alane,
While my dear lad did fight his faes,
Far, far frae me and Logan braes."

I These three stanzas are by an anonymous author, and were added after Mayne's death.

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