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Say, charmer, where do thy flocks stray?

Oh! tell me at noon where they feed ; Shall I seek them on sweet winding Tay,

Or the pleasanter banks of the Tweed?


To the Tune of, Woe's my heart that we should sunder.

S Hamilla then my own? IS

O! the dear, the charming treasure : Fortune now in vain shall frown;

All my future life is pleasure. . See how rich with youthful grace,

Beauty warms her ev'ry feature ; Smiling heaven is in her face,

All is gay, and all is nature.

See what mingling charms arise,

Rosy smiles, and kindling blushes ; Love fits laughing in her eyes,

And betrays her secret wishes. Haste then from th' Idalian grove,

Infant smiles, and sports, and graces; Spread the downy couch for love,

And lull us in your sweet embraces.

Softest raptures, pure from noise,

This fair happy night surround us ; While a thousand spirilly joys

Silent Autter all around us.

Thus unsowrd with care or strife,

Heaven still guard this dearest blessing!
While we tread the path of life,
Loving fill, and still possessing.


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E T's be jovial, fill our glasses,

Madness 'tis for us to think,
How the warld is rui'd by asses,

And the wise are sway'd by chink. Fa, la, ra, &c.

Then never let vain cares oppress us,

Riches are to them a snare, We're ev'ry one as rich as Cræsus,

While our bottle drowns our care. Fa, la, ra, &c.

Wine will make us as red as roses,

And our sorrows quite forget : Come, let us fuddle all our noses,

Drink ourselves quite out of debt. Fa, la, ra, &c.

When grim death is looking for us,

We are toping at our bowls, Bacchus joining in the chorus;

Death be gone, here's none but souls. Fa, la, ra, &c.

Godlike Bacchus thus commanding,

Trembling death away fhall fly, Ever after understanding

Drinking fouls can never dy. Fa, la, ra, &c.


Muirland Willie.


ARKEN and I will tell you how

Young Muirland Willie came to woo,
Tho' he could neither say nor do ;

The truth I tell to you.
But ay he crys, whate'er betide,
Maggy, I'se ha'e her to be my bride,
With a fal, dal, &c.

On his gray yade as he did ride,
With durk and pistol by his fide,
He prick'd her on wi' meikle pride,

Wi' meikle mirth and glee.
Out o'er yon moss, out o'er yon muir,
Till he came to her dady's door,
With a fal, dal, &c.

Goodman, quoth he, be ye within,
I'm come your doughter's love to win,
I care no for making meikle din ;

What answer gi' ye me?
Now, wooer, quoth he, wou'd ye light down,
I'll gie ye my Doughter's love to win,
With a fal, dal, &c.

Now, wooer, fin ye are lighted down,
Where do ye win, or in what town?
I think my doghter winna gloom

On sic a lad as ye.
The wooer he step'd up the house,
And wow but he was wond'rous crouse,
With a fal, dal, &c.

I have three owsen in a plough,
Twa good ga'en yads, and gear enough,
The place they ca' it Cadeneugh;
I scorn to tell a lie ;



Besides, I had frae the great laird,
A peat pat, and a lang kail-yard,
With a fal, &c.

The maid put on her kirtle brown,
She was the braweit in a' the town ;
I wat on him she did na gloom,

But blinkit bonnilie.
The lover he stended up in haste,
And gript her hard about the waste,
With a fal, &c.

To win your love, maid, I'm come here,
I'm young, and hae enough o' gear ;
And for my


need na fear,
Troth try me whan ye

He took aff his bonnet, and spat in his chew,
He dighted his gab, and he pri'd her mou',
With a fal, &c.

The maiden blush'd and bing'd fu law,
She had na will to say him na,
But to her dady she left it a',

As they twa cou'd agree.
The lover he ga'e her the tither kiss,
Syne ran to her dady, and telld him this,
With a fal, &c.

Your doghter wad na say me na,
But to your sell she has left it a',
As we cou'd gree between us.cwa ;

Say what'll ye gi' me wi' her ?
Now, wooer, quo' he, I ha'e no meikle,
But fic's I ha’e ye’s get a pickle,
With a fal, &c.

A kilnfu of corn I'll gi'e to thee,
Three soums of sheep, twa good milk ky,
Ye's ha'e the wadding dinner free ;
Troth I dow do no mair.


Content, quo' he, a bargain be't,
I'm far frae hame, make hafte let's do't,
With a fal, &c.

The bridal day it came to pass,
With mony a blythsome lad and lass ;
But ficken a day there never was,

Sic mirth was never seen.
This winsome couple straked hands,
Mess Jobu ty'd up the marriage bands,
With a fal, &c.

And our bride's maidens were na few,
Wi' tap-knots, lug-knots, a' in blew,
Frae tap to tae they were braw new,

And blinkit bonnilie.
Their toys and mutches were fae clean,
They glanced in our ladses’ een,
With a fal, &c.

Sic hirdum, dirdum, and fic din,
Wi' he o'er her, and she o'er him;
The minitrels they did never blin,

Wi meikle mirth and glee.
And ay they bobit, and ay they beckt,


their wames together mét, With a fal, &c.


The promis'd Joy.

To the Tune of, Carle and the King come.

HE N we meet again, Phely,

When we meet again, Phely,
Raptures will reward our pain,
And loss result in gain, Phely,


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