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Taby snool me sair, and haud me down,

And gar me look like bluntie, Tam! But three sbort years will soon wheel roun”, And then comes ane and twenty, Tam.

An 0, for ane, &c.

A gleib o’lan', a claut o' gear,

Was left me by my auntie, Tam:
At kith or kin I need na spier,
An I saw ane and twenty, Tam.

An 0, for ane, &c.

They'll hae me wed a wealthy coof,

Tho' I myseľ hae plenty, Tam;
But hear'st thou, laddie, there's my loof,
I'm thine at ane and twenty, Tam!

An 0, for ane, &c.

BESS AND HER SPINNING WHEEL.

O LEEZE me on my spinning wheel,
O leeze me on my rock and reel;
Frae tap to tae that cleeds me bien,
And haps me fiel and warm at e'en!
I'll set me down and sing and spin,
While laigh descends the simmer sun,
Blest wi' content, and milk and meal
o leeze me on my spinning wheel.

On ilka hand the burnies trot,
And meet below my theekit cot;

The scented birk and hawthorn white
Across the pool their arms unite,
Alike to screen the birdie's nest,
And little fishes caller rest :
The sun blinks kindly in the biel',
Where blithe I turn my spinning wheel.

On lofty aiks the cushats wail,
And echo cons the doolfu' tale ;
The lintwhites in the bazel braes,
Delighted, rival ither's lays :
The craik amang the claver hay,
The paitrick whirrin o'er the ley,
The swallow jinkin round my shiel,
Amuse me at my spinning wheel.

Wi'sma' to sell, and less to buy,
Aboon distress, below envy,
O wba wad leave this humble state,
For a' the pride of a' the great ?
Amid their flaring, idle toys,
Amid their cumbrous, dinsome joys,
Can they the peace and pleasure feel
Of Bessy at her spinning wheel?

COUNTRY LASSIE.

In simmer when the hay was mawn,

And corn wav'd green tu ilka field, While claver blooms white o'er the lea,

And roses blaw in ilka bield; Vol. XXXIX.

D

Blithe Bessie in the milking shiel,

Says, I'll be wed, come o't what will; Out spak a dame in wrinkled eild,

O'guid advisement comes nae ill.

It's ye hae wooers mony ane,

And lassie, ye're but young ye ken; Then wait a wee, and cannie wale,

A routhie butt, a routhie ben : There's Johnie o' the Buskie-glen,

Fu’ is his barn, fu’ is his byre; Tak this frae me, my bonny hen,

It's plenty beets the luver's fire.

For Johnie o' the Buskie-glen,

I dinna care a single flie;
He lo’es sae weel his craps and kye,

He has nae luve to spare for me:
But blithe's the blinkso? Robie's e'e,

And weel I wat he lo’es me dear; Ae blink o' him I wad nae gie

For Buskie-glen and a’ his gear,

O thoughtless lassie, life's a faught;

The canniest gate, the strife is sair ; But ay fu’ han’t is fechtin best,

A hungry care's an unco care! But some will spend, and some will spare,

An' wilfu' folk maun hae their will ; Syne as ye brew, my maiden fair,

Keep mind that ye maun drink the yill.

O, gear will buy me rigs o' land,

And gear will buy me sheep and kye ;

But the tender heart o' leesome luve,

The gowd and siller canna buy : We may be poor-Robie and I,

Light is the burden luve lays on ; Content and luve brings peace and joy,

What mair hae queens upon a throne ?

FAIR ELIZA.

A GAELIC AIR.

TURN again, thou fair Eliza,

Ae kind blink before we part,
Rew on thy despairing lover!

Canst thou break his faithfu’ heart?
Turn again, thou fair Eliza;

If to love thy heart denies,
For pity hide the cruel sentence

Under friendship's kind disguise !

Thee, dear maid, hae I offended?

The offence is loving thee :
Canst thou wreck his peace for ever,

Wha for thine wad gladly die?
While the life beats in my bosom,

Thou shalt mix in ilka throe :
Turn again, thou lovely maiden,

Ae sweet smile on me bestow

Not the bee upon the blossom,

In the pride oʻsinny noon;

Not the little sporting fairy,

All beneath the simmer moon ;
Not the poet in the moment

Fancy lightens on his e'e
Kens the pleasure, feels the rapture;

That thy presence gies to me.

THE POSIE.

O LUVE will venture in, where it daur na weel be

seen, O luve will venture in, where wisdom ance has

been; But I will down yon river rove, amang the wood

sae green, And a' to pu’a posie to my ain dear May.

The primrose I will pu', the firstling o' the year, And I will pu' the pink, the emblem o' my dear, For she's the pink o'womankind, and blooms with

out a peer; And a' to be a posie to my own dear May.

I'll pu' the budding rose, when Phæbus peeps in

view, For its like a baumy kiss o' her sweet bonnie mou ; The hyacinth's for constancy wi' its unchanging

blue, And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.

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