And if I can but get it drawn,
Which will be right uneafy,
I fhall lay baith my lugs in pawn,
That he fhall get a heezy.
Then Nancy turn'd her round about,
And faid, Did Sandy hear ye,
Ye wadna mifs to get a clout,
I ken he difna fear ye:
Sae had ye'r tongue, and fae nae mair,
Set fomewhere elfe your fancy;
For as lang's Sandy's to the fore,
Ye never fhall get Nancy.
To the tune of, The kirk wad let me be
IS I have feven braw new gowns,
And ither feven better to mak ;
And yet for a' my new gowns,
My wooer has turn'd his back.
Befides I have feven milk-ky,
And Sandy he has but three ;
And yet for a' my good ky,
The laddie winna ha'e me.
My dadie's a delver of dikes,
My mither can card and spin,
And I am a fine fodgel lafs,
And the filler comes linkin in,
The filler comes linking in,
And it is fou fair to fee,
And fifty times wow! O wow!
What ails the lads at me?
To the tune of, Dainty Davie.
Hile fops, in faft Italian verfe,
Ilk fair ane's een and breast rehearse,
While fangs abound and fenfe is fcarce,
Thefe lines I have indited:
But neither darts nor arrows here,
Venus nor Cupid fhall appear,
And yet with these fine founds I fwear,
The maidens are delited.
was ay telling you,
Lucky Nancy, lucky Nancy,
Auld fprings wad ding the new,
But ye wad never trow me.
Nor fnaw with crimson will I mix,
To spread upon my laffie's cheeks ;
And fyne th' unmeaning name prefix,
Miranda, Chloe, or Phillis.
I'll fetch nae fimile frae Jove,
My height of ecftasy to prove,
With roles eke and lilies.
I was ay telling you, &c.
But ftay, I had amaift forgot
My mistress and my fang to boot,
And that's an unco' faut I wat;
But, Nancy, 'tis nae matter.
Ye fee I clink my verse wi' rhyme,
And ken ye, that atones the crime;
Forby, how fweet my numbers chime,
And flide away like water.
I was ay telling you, &c.
Now ken, my reverend fonfy fair,
Thy runkled cheeks and lyart hair,
Thy half-fhut een and hodling air,
Are a' my paffion's fewel.
Nae fkyring gowk, my dear, can fee,
Or love, or grace, or heaven in thee;
Yet thou haft charms enow for me,
Then fmile, and be na cruel.
Leez me on thy fnawy pow,
Lucky Nancy, lucky Nancy;
Drieft wood will eitheft low,
And, Nancy, fae will ye now.
Troth I have fung the fang to you,
Which ne'er anither bard wad do;
Hear then my charitable vow,
Dear venerable Nancy.
But if the warld my paffion wrang,
And fay ye only live in fang,
Ken I defpife a fland'ring tongue,
And fing to please my fancy.
Leez me on thy, &c.
The tune after an Italian manner.
Compofed by Signor Lorenzo Bocchi.
Late Jonny faintly tald fair Jean his mind;
Jeany took pleafure to deny him lang;
He thought her fcorn came frae her heart unkind,
Which gart him in despair tune up this fang.
O bonny laffie, fince 'tis fae,
That I'm defpis'd by thee,
I hate to live, but O I'm wae,
And unco fweer to die.
Dear Jeany, think what dowy hours
I thole by your disdain ;
Ah! should a breast sae faft as yours
Contain a heart of stane?
RECITATIVE.
Thefe tender notes did a' her pity move,
With melting heart the lift'ned to the boy;
O'ercome the fimil'd, and promis'd him her love :
He in return thus fang his rifing joy.
Hence frae my breast, contentious care,
Ye've tint the power to pine;
My Jeany's good, my Jeany's fair,
And a' her fweets are mine.
O fpread thine arms, and gi'e me fowth
Of dear inchanting blifs,
A thousand joys around thy mouth
Gi'e heaven with ilka kifs.
To the tune of, Saw ye my Peggy.
Ome let's ha'e mair wine in,
Bacchus hates repining,
Venus loves nae dwining,
Let's be blyth and free,
Away with dull, Here t'ye, Sir;
Ye'er miftrefs, Robie, gi'es her,
We'll drink her health wi' pleasure,
Wha's belov'd by thee.
Then let Peggy warm ye,
That's a lafs can charm ye,
And to joys alarm ye,
Sweet is fhe to me.
Some angel ye wad ca' her,
And never with ane brawer,
If ye bare-headed faw her
Kiltet to the knee.
Peggy a dainty lafs is, Come let's join our glaffes, And refresh our haufes
With a health to thee.
Let coofs their cash be clinking,
Be statesmen tint in thinking,
While we with love and drinking,
Give our cares the lie.
VOL. I.
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