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• One of two must still obey,

Nancy, Nancy ;
Is it man or woman, say,

My spouse, Nancy?"
" If 'tis still the lordly word,

Service and obedience ; I'll desert my sov’reign lord,

And so good-bye allegiance !” “ Sad will I be, so bereft,

Nancy, Nancy,
Yet I'll try to make a shift,

My spouse, Nancy."
My poor heart then break it must,

My last hour I'm near it :
When you lay me in the dust,

Think, think how you will bear it." “ I will hope and trust in heaven,

Nancy, Nancy,
Strength to bear it will be given,

My spouse, Nancy."
** Well, sir, from the silent dead,

Still I'll try to daunt you; Ever round your midnight bed

Horrid sprites shall haunt you.” “ I'll wed another like my dear,

Nancy, Nancy;
Then all hell will fly for fear,

My spouse, Nancy."

MY WIFE'S A WINSOME WEE

THING.
She is a winsome wee thing,
She is a handsome wee thing,
She is a bonnie wee thing,
This sweet wee wife o' mine.
I never saw a fairer,
I never loe'd a dearer;
And neist my heart I'll wear her,
For fear my jewel tine.
Oh leeze me on my wee thing,
My bonnie blythesome wee thing;
Sae lang's I hae my wee thing,
I'll think my lot divine.
Tho' warld's care we share o't,
And

may see mickle mair o't;
Wi' her I'll blythely bear it,
And ne'er a word repine.

NITHSDALE'S WELCOME HAME. The noble Maxwells and their powers

Are coming o'er the border,
And they'll gae bigg Terreagles' towers,

And set them a' in order.
And they declare Terreagles fair,

For their abode they chuse it;
There's no a heart in a' the land,

But’s lighter at the news o't.

Tho' stars in skies may disappear,

And angry tempests gather,
The happy hour may soon be near

That brings us pleasant weather :
The weary night o' care and grief

May hae a joyful morrow;
So dawning day has brought relief

Fareweel our night o' sorrow !

NOW SPRING HAS CLAD THE

GROVE IN GREEN. Now spring has clad the grove in green,

And strew'd the lea wi' flowers : The furrow'd, waving corn is seen

Rejoice in fostering showers;
While ilka thing in nature join

Their sorrows to forego,
Oh why thus all alone are mine

The weary steps of woe!
The trout within yon wimpling burn

Glides swift-a silver dart;
And safe beneath the shady thorn

Defies the angler's art.
My life was ance that careless stream,

That wanton trout was I ;
But love, wi' unrelenting beam,

Has scorch'd my fountains dry.
The little flow'ret's peaceful lot,

In yonder cliff that grows,
Which, save the linnet's flight, I wot,

Nae ruder visit knows,

Was mine; till love has o'er me past,

And blighted a' my bloom,
And now beneath the with’ring blast

My youth and joy consume.
The waken’d lav'rock warbling springs,

And climbs the early sky,
Winnowing blythe her dewy wings

In morning's rosy eye.
As little reck'd I sorrow's power,

Until the flowery snare
O’ witching love, in luckless hour,

Made me the thrall o care.
Oh, had my fate been Greenland snows,

Or Afric's burning zone,
Wi' man and nature leagu'd my foes,

So Peggy ne'er I'd known !
The wretch whase doom is, “hope nae mair,"

What tongue his woes can tell ! Within whase bosom, save despair,

Nae kinder spirits dwell.

NOW WESTLIN WINDS.

TUNE-I had a Horse, I had nae mair. Now westlin winds and slaught'ring guns

Bring autumn's pleasant weather;
The moorcock springs, on whirring wings,

Amang the blooming heather :
Now waving grain, wide o'er the plain,

Delights the weary farmer ; [night And the moon shines bright, when I rove at

To muse upon my charmer.

The partridge loves the fruitful fells;

The plover loves the mountains ; The woodcock haunts the lonely dells;

The soaring hern the fountains :
Thro' lofty groves the cushat roves,

The path of man to shun it ;
The hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush,

The spreading thorn the linnet.
Thus ev'ry kind their pleasure find,

The savage and the tender; Some social join, and leagues combine ;

Some solitary wander : Avaunt, away! the cruel sway,

Tyrannic man's dominion ;
The sportsman's joy, the murd’ring cry,

The flutt'ring gory pinion.
But Peggy, dear, the ev'ning's clear,

Thick flies the skimming swallow ;
The sky is blue, the fields in view,

All fading-green and yellow : Come, let us stray our gladsome way,

And view the charms of nature;
The rustling corn, the fruited thorn,

And every happy creature.
We'll gently walk, and sweetly talk,

Till the silent moon shine clearly ; I'll grasp thy waist, and, fondly prest,

Swear how I love thee dearly : Not vernal show'rs to budding flow'rs,

Not autumn to the farmer, So dear can be as thou to me,

My fair, my lovely charmer !

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