Poem by Hector Macneill

Jeanie's Black Ee; Or Tha' Mi 'N Am Chodal, 'Sna Duisgibh Mi

The sun raise sae rosy, the grey hills adorning!
Light sprang the lavroc and mounted sae hie;
When true to the tryst o' blythe May's dewy morning
    My Jeanie cam linking out owre the green lea.

To mark her impatience, I crap 'mang the brakens,
Aft, aft to the kent gate she turn'd her black ee;
Then lying down dowlie, sigh'd by the willow tree,
    'Ha me mohatel na douska me.'

Saft through the green birks I sta' to my jewel,
Streik'd on spring's carpet aneath the saugh tree!
'Think na, dear lassie, thy Willie's been cruel,'
    'Ha me mohatel na douska me.'

'Wi' luve's warm sensations I've mark'd your impatience,
Lang hid 'mang the brakens I watch'd your black ee--
You're no sleeping, pawkie Jean! open thae lovely een!'
    'Ha me mohatel na douska me.'

'Bright is the whin's bloom ilk green dow adorning!
Sweet is the primrose bespangled wi' dew!
Yonder comes Peggy to welcome May morning!
Dark waves her haffet locks owre her white brow!

O! light! light she's dancing keen on the smooth gowany green.
Barefit and kilted half up to the knee!
While Jeanie is sleeping still, I'll rin and sport my fill,'--
    'I was asleep, and ye've waken'd me!'

'I'll rin and whirl her round; Jeanie is sleeping sound;
Kiss her and clasp her fast; nae ane can see!
Sweet! sweet's her hinny mou' -- 'Will, I'm no sleeping now,
    I was asleep, but ye waken'd me.'

Laughing till like to drap, swith to my Jean I lap,
Kiss'd her ripe roses and blest her black ee!
And ay since whane'er we meet, sing, for the sound is sweet,
    'Ha me mohatel na dousku me.'

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3. On the Death of Lieut. Gen. Sir Ralph Abercromby. Killed at the Battle of Alexandria, in Egypt, Marc
4. Donald and Flora
5. Tak Tent and Be Wary

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