And the baron's retainers were blithe and gay, And
holly branch shone on the old oak wall, The baron bekeeping their Christmas holyday;
"I'm weary of dancing now," she cried;
"Here tarry a moment-I'll hide, I'll hide :
And Lovell, be sure thou'rt the first to trace
The clue to my secret lurking place."
Away she ran, and her friends began
Each tower to search, and each nook to scan;
And young Lovell cried, "oh where dost thou hide?
I'm lonesome without thee, my own dear bride."
Oh, the misletoe bough:
They sought her that night and they sought her next day,
And they so't her in vain, when a week pass'd away:
In the highest-the lowest-the loneliest spot,
Young Lovell sought wildly, but found her not,
And years flew by; and their grief, at last,
Was told as a sorrowful tale long past;
And when Lovell appeared the children cried,
"See the old man weeps for his fairy bride."
Oh, the misletoe bough:
At length an oak chest that had long lain hid,
Was found in the castle-they raised the lid,
And a skeleton form lay mouldering there,
In the bridal wreath of the lady fair;
Oh, sad was her fate: in sportive jest
She hid from her lord in the old oak chest;
It closed with a spring:-and her bridal bloom,
Lay withering there in a lonely tomb!
The bliss of Heaven.
Go wing thy way from star to star,
From world to luminous world, as far
As the universe spreads its flaming wall;
Take all the pleasures of all the spheres,
And multiply each through endless years,
One minute of Heaven is worth them all!
John Anderson, my Jo, John,
When nature first began
To try her cannie hand, John,
Her master-work was man :
And you among them a', John,
Sae trig frae tap to toe,
She proved to be nae journey-wark,
John Anderson, my Jo.
John Anderson, my jo, John,
Ye were my first conceit,
And ye need na think it strange, John,
Though I ca' ye trim and neat;
Though some folks say ye're auld, John,
I never think ye so,
But I think ye're aye the same to me,
John Anderson, my jo.
John Anderson, my jo, John,
We've seen our bairns' bairns,
And yet, my dear John Anderson,
I'm happy in your arms;
And sae are ye in mine, John-
I'm sure ye'll ne'er say no,
Though the days are gane that ye have seen, John Anderson, my jo.
John Anderson, my jo, John,
What pleasure does it gie,
To see sae many sprouts, John,
Spring up 'tween you and me;
And ilka lad and lass, John,
In our footsteps to go,
Make perfect heaven here on earth,
John Anderson, my jo.
John Anderson, my jo, John,
We clamb the hill thegither,
And monie a cantie day, John,
We've had with ane anither;
Now we maun totter down, John,
But hand in hand we'll go,
And we'll sleep thegither at the foot,
John Anderson, my jo.
nets are floating wide, Our bonny boat with yielding sway
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