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Now Nature cleeds the flowery lea,
And a’ is young and sweet like thee;

wilt thou share its joys wi’ me,
And say thou'lt be my dearie 0 ?

Lassie wi', &c.

And when the welcome simmer-shower Has cheer'd ilk drooping little flower, We'll to the breathing woodbine bower At sultry noon, my dearie 0.

Lassie wi', &c.

When Cynthia lights, wi’ silver ray, The weary shearer's hameward way ; Thro’ yellow waving fields we'll stray, And talk o' love, my dearie 0.

Lassie wi', &c.

And when the howling wintry blast
Disturbs my lassie's midnight rest;
Enclasped to my faithfu' breast,

I'll comfort thee, my dearie 0.

Lassie wi' the lint-white locks,

Bonnie lassie, artless lassie,
Wilt thou wi' me tent the flocks,

Wilt thou be my dearie 0?


Tune, Nancy's to the Greenwood,' &c.

FAREWELL thou stream that winding flows

Around Eliza's dwelling!
O mem’ry! spare the cruel throes

Within my bosom swelling :
Condemn'd to drag a hopeless chain,

And yet in secret languish, To feel a fire in ev'ry vein,

Nor dare disclose my anguish.

Love's veriest wretch, unseen, unknown,

I fain my griefs would cover:
The bursting sigh, the' unweeting groan,

Betray the hapless lover.
I know thou doom'st me to despair,

Nor wilt, nor canst relieve me;
But oh, Eliza, hear one prayer,

For pity's sake forgive me.

The music of thy voice I heard,

Nor wist while it enslav'd me;
I saw thine eyes, yet nothing fear'd,

Till fears no more had sav'd me:
The' unwary sailor thus aghast,

The wheeling torrent viewing ; 'Mid circling horrors sinks at last

In overwhelming ruin.


Tune, ' The Sow's Tail.'


O PAILLY, happy be that day
When roving through the gather'd hay,
My youthfu' heart was stown away,

And by thy charms, my Philly.


O Willy, ay I bless the grove
Where first I own'd my maiden love,
Whilst thou didst pledge the Powers above

To be my ain dear Willy.


As songsters of the early year
Are ilka day mair sweet to hear,
So ilka day to me mair dear

And charming is my Philly.


As on the brier the budding rose
Still richer breathes and fairer blows,
So in my tender bosom grows

The love I bear my Willy.


The milder sun and bluer sky,
That crown my harvest cares wi' joy,
Were ne'er sae welcome to my eye

As is a sight o' Philly.


The little swallow's wanton wing,
Tho' wafting o’er the flowery spring,
Did ne'er to me sic tidings bring,

As meeting o’ my Willy.


The bee that thro' the sunny hour
Sips nectar in the opening flower,
Compar'd wi' my delight is poor,

Upon the lips o' Philly.


The woodbine in the dewy weet
When evening shades in silence meet,
Is nocht sae fragrant or sae sweet

As is a kiss o' Willy.


Let fortune's wheel at random rin,
And fools may tyne, and knaves may win ;
My thoughts are a' bound up in ane,

And that's my ain dear Philly.


What's a' the joys that gowd can gie!
I care nae wealth a single flie ;
The lad I love's the lad for me,
And that's myain dear Willy.



Tune, ' Lumps o' Pudding.'

CONTENTED wi' little, and cantie wi' mair,
Whene'er I forgather wi' sorrow and care,
I gie them a skelp, as they're creepin alang,
Wi' a cog o' guid swats, and an auld Scottish sang.

I whyles claw the elbow o'troublesome thought;
But man is a soger, and life is a faught :
My mirth and guid humour are coin in my pouch,
And my Freedom's my lairdship nae monarch dare


A towmond o' trouble, should that be my fa',
A night o' guid fellowship sowthers it a':
When at the blithe end o' our journey at last,
Wha the deil ever thinks o’the road he has past?

Blind chance, let her snapper and stoyte on her

way ; Be't to me, be’t frae me, e’en let the jade gae: Come ease, or come travail; come pleasure, or pain, My warst word is-ar Welcome, and welcome again!

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