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Here's to the friend we can trust,
While the storms of adversity blaw;
May they live in our song, and be nearest our
hearts,
Nor depart like the year that's awa,
May they live, &c.

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LOVELY JEAN.

Of a' the airts the wind can blaw,
I dearly like the west,
For there the bonnie lassie lives,
The lass that I loo best:
The' wild woods grow, and rivers row,
Wi' monie a hill between,
Baith day and night, my fancy's flight
Is ever wi' my Jean.

⟨I⟩ see her in the dewy flow'r,
Sae lovely, sweet and fair;
I hear her voice, in ilka bird,
Wi' music charm the air:
⟨There's⟩ not a bonnie flower that springs,
⟨By fountain⟩, shaw, or green,
⟨There's not⟩ a bonnie bird that sings,
But minds me o' my Jean.

Upon the banks o' flowing Clyde
The lasses busk them braw;
But when their best they hae put on,
My Jeanie dings them a';