ANNA OF THE TYNE.

A bonny swain, blithe Sandy nam’d, Who’d muckle land and kine, A lassie lov’d, for beauty fam’d, Fair Anna of the Tyne. And thus would Sandy joyous sing, “Fair maid, O be but mine; More blest I’d be than laird or king, With Anna of the Tyne.” “Kind youth,” she cried, “nae kine or land, Nor money I’ve in store; Then cease to ask my humble hand, Nor wed a maid so poor.” Yet still would Sandy joyous sing, “Fair maid, O be but mine; More blest I’d be than laird or king, With Anna of the Tyne.” “For Anna thou art rich in charms, The wealth of worlds to me; Then wed, and bless thy lover’s arms.” She smil’d, and blest was he. How rapturous then did Sandy sing, “Now, now, the fair one’s mine; I am more bless’d then laird or king, With Anna of the Tyne!”