Such was my life's deceitful morning,

Such the pleasures I enjoy'd;

But lang or noon, loud tempests storming,
A' my flowery bliss destroy'd.

Tho' fickle fortune has deceiv'd me,

She promis'd fair, and perform'd but ill;
Of monie a joy and hope bereav'd me,
I bear a heart shall support me still.

The Tarbolton Lasses

If ye if there see Donnie Peggy;

F ye gae up to yon hill-tap,

She kens her father is a laird,
And she forsooth's a leddy.

There Sophy tight, a lassie bright,
Besides a handsome fortune:
Wha canna win her in a night,
Has little art in courting.

Gae down by Fail, and taste the ale,
And tak a look o' Mysie;

She's dour and din, a deil within,
But aiblins she may please ye.

If she be shy, her sister try,
Ye'll maybe fancy Jenny,

If ye'll dispense wi' want o' sense

She kens hersel she's bonnie.

As ye gae up by yon hill-side,

Speer in for bonnie Bessy;

She'll gi'e ye a beck, and bid ye light,
And handsomely address ye.

Montgomerie's Peggy

There's few sae bonnie, nane sae guid,
In a' King George' dominion;
If ye should doubt the truth o' this-
It's Bessy's ain opinion!

Montgomerie's Peggy

A

TUNE-"Gala Water."

LTHO' my bed were in yon muir,
Amang the heather, in my plaidie,
Yet happy, happy would I be,

Had I my dear Montgomerie's Peggy.

When o'er the hill beat surly storms,
And winter nights were dark and rainy,
I'd seek some dell, and in my arms
I'd shelter dear Montgomerie's Peggy.

Were I a Baron proud and high

And horse and servants waiting ready,
Then a' 'twad gie o' joy to me,

The sharin't wi' Montgomerie's Peggy.

The Ronalds o' the Bennals

N Tarbolton, ye ken, there are proper young men,
And proper young lasses and a', man;
But ken ye the Ronalds that live in the Bennals,
They carry the gree frae them a', man.

Their father's a laird, and weel he can spare't,
Braid money to tocher them a', man,

To proper young men, he'll clink in the hand
Gowd guineas a hunder or twa, man.

There's ane they ca' Jean, I'll warrant ye've seen As bonnie a lass or as braw, man;

But for sense and guid taste she'll vie wi' the best, And a conduct that beautifies a', man.

The charms o' the min', the langer they shine,
The mair admiration they draw, man;
While peaches and cherries, and roses and lilies,
They fade and they wither awa, man.

If ye be for Miss Jean, tak this frae a frien',
A hint o' a rival or twa, man,

The Laird o' Blackbyre wad gang through the fire,
If that wad entice her awa, man.

The Laird o' Braehead has been on his speed,
For mair than a towmond or twa, man;
The Laird o' the Ford will straught on a board,
If he canna get her at a', man.

Then Anna comes in, the pride o' her kin,
The boast of our bachelors a', man:
Sae sonsy and sweet, sae fully complete,
She steals our affections awa, man.

If I should detail the pick and the wale
O'lasses that live here awa, man,

The fault wad be mine, if they didna shine,
The sweetest and best o' them a', man.

I lo'e her mysel, but darena weel tell,
My poverty keeps me in awe, man,
For making o' rhymes, and working at times,
Does little or naething at a', man.

Yet I wadna choose to let her refuse,

Nor ha'e 't in her power to say na, man; For though I be poor, unnoticed, obscure, My stomach's as proud as them a', man.

Here's to thy Health

Though I canna ride in weel-booted pride,
And flee o'er the hills like a craw, man,

I can haud up my head wi' the best o' the breed,
Though fluttering ever so braw, man.

My coat and my vest, they are Scotch o' the best,
O' pairs o' guid breeks I hae twa, man,
And stockings and pumps to put on my stumps,
And ne'er a wrang steek in them a', man.

My sarks they are few, but five o' them new,
Twal' hundred, as white as the snaw, man,
A ten-shilling's hat, a Holland cravat;

There are no monie poets sae braw, man.

I never had friens, weel stockit in means,
To leave me a hundred or twa, man ;
Nae weel-tochered aunts, to wait on their drants,
And wish them in hell for it a', man.

I never was canny for hoarding o' money,
Or claughtin 't together at a', man,
I've little to spend, and naething to lend,
But deevil a shilling I awe, man.

H

Here's to thy Health, my Bonnie Lass

TUNE-" Laggan Burn.”

'ERE'S to thy health, my bonnie lass,
Guid night, and joy be wi' thee;

I'll come nae mair to thy bower door,
To tell thee that I lo'e thee.
O dinna think, my pretty pink,
But I can live without thee:
I vow and swear I dinna care
How lang ye look about ye.

Thou'rt aye sae free informing me
Thou hast nae mind to marry;
I'll be as free informing thee
Nae time hae I to tarry.

I ken thy friends try ilka means
Frae wedlock to delay thee;
Depending on some higher chance-
But fortune may betray thee.

I ken they scorn my low estate,
But that does never grieve me;
But I'm as free as any he,

Sma' siller will relieve me.

I count my health my greatest wealth,
Sae lang as I'll enjoy it:

I'll fear nae scant, I'll bode nae want,
As lang's I get employment.

But far aff fowls hae feathers fair,

And aye until ye try them:

Tho' they seem fair, still have a care,

They may prove waur than I am.

But at twal at night, when the moon shines bright,

My dear, I'll come and see thee;

For the man that lo'es his mistress weel,

Nae travel makes him weary.

On Cessnock Banks

TUNE-" If he be a Butcher neat and trim."

N Cessnock banks a lassie dwells;

ON Cesti de baribe her shape and mien;

Our lasses a' she far excels,

An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.