Bonnie Lauderdale
By John Riddle
Midst the splendour and the beauty o' the bonnie woods and glens
Where Leader rins sae cheerie as winds roon ilka bens
Ye may boast o' Tweed or Ettrick, the Teviot or the Ale
But gie tae me the Leader and my ain dear Lauderdale
Lauderdale! Bonnie Lauderdale!
Sae dear tae me
I will sing in praise where'er I go
O' Bonnie Lauderdale
We hae bonnie lads and lasses an' we fear nae ither toons
Although we're kin o' wild a' wee, we're seldom oot o' boons
We're a jolly lot o' fellows, aye heartie, true an' hale
And proud we are tae be the sons o' Bonnie Lauderdale
Lauderdale! Bonnie Lauderdale!
Sae dear tae me
I will sing in praise where'er I go
O' Bonnie Lauderdale
When the Cornet is presented on the Common Riding morn
Wi' the flag his predecessors have safe and proudly bourne
Let us all unite and cheer him, half-hearted nae but hale
And let the laddie see he is the Pride o' Lauderdale
Lauderdale! Bonnie Lauderdale!
Sae dear tae me
I will sing in praise where'er I go
O' Bonnie Lauderdale
Theres is also a fourth verse that is sometimes sung - author unknown, but not part of the John Riddle original:
Come let us climb the Chesters when the fields are fresh and green
Although there's many a Borders sicht that I hae never seen
But stand me on the White Knowend and there within the vale
Ma hert reboonds wi' sicht and soonds ake my ain dear Lauderdale
Jeanie's Black E'e
By Hector MacNeil
The sun rose sae rosy, the grey hills adorning
Light sprang the lav’roc and mounted sae hie
When true to the tryst o' blythe May's dewy morning
Jeanie cam linking out ow’r the green lea’
Tae mark her impatience, I crep’ 'mang the brackens
Aft, aft tae the kent gate she turn'd her black e’e
Then lying down sae dowilie, sigh'd by the willow tree
“I am asleep, dinna wauken me”
Saft thro’ the green birks I stole to my jewel
Strek'd on spring's carpet aneath the saugh tree
Think na, dear lassie, that Willie's been cruel
“I am asleep, dinna wauken me”
Wi love’s warm sensations I’ve marked your impatience
Lang hid midst the breckans I watch’d your black e’e
“You’re no sleepin’, pawkie Jean, open that lovely e’e”
“I am asleep, dinna wauken me”
Scotland Yet
By Henry Scott Riddell
Gae bring my guid auld harp yince mair
Gae bring it free and fast
For I might sing anither sang
E’er a' my glee be past
And trow ye, as I sing, my lads
The burden o't shall be
Auld Scotland's howes, and Scotland's knowes
And Scotland's hills for me
I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet,
Wi a' the honours three!
The heath waves wild upon the hills
An foamin’ frae the fells
Her fountains sing o' freedom still
As they dance down the dells
And weel I lo’ed the land, my lads
That's girded by the sea
Then Scotland's vales, and Scotland's dales
And Scotland's hills for me
I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet,
Wi a' the honours three!
The thistle wags upon the fields
Where Wallace bore his blade
That gave her dearest foemens bluid
To dye her auld grey plaid
And looking to the lift, my lads
He sang this doughty glee
Auld Scotland's rights, and Scotland's mights
And Scotland's hills for me
I'll drink a cup to Scotland yet,
Wi' a' the honours three!