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T

Tarry Woo.

I.

Arry woo, tarry woo,
Tarry woo is ill to spin,

Card it well, card it well,

Card it well ere ye begin.

When 'tis carded, row'd, and fpun,
Then the work is haflens done;
But when woven, drefs'd, and clean,
It may be cleading for a queen.

II.

Sing, my bonny harmless sheep,
That feed upon the mountains fleep,
Bleating fweetly as ye go

Through the winter's froft and fnow;
Hart, and hynd, and fallow-deer,
No be ha'f fo useful are;

Frae kings to him that hads the plow,
Are all oblig'd to tarry woo.

III.

Up ye fhepherds, dance and skip,
O'er the hills and valleys trip,
Sing up the praise of tarry woo,
Sing the flocks that bear it too :

Harmlefs creatures without blame,

That clead the back and cram the wame,

Keep us warm and hearty fou;

Leefe me on the tarry woo.

IV.

How happy is a fhepherd's life,
Far frae courts and free of ftrife,
While the gimmers bleat and bae,
And the lambkins anfwer mae :
No fuch mufic to his ear,

Of thief or fox he has no fear;
Sturdy kent, and colly too,
Well defend the tarry woo.

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V.

He lives content, and envies none;
Not even a monarch on his throne,
Tho' he the royal fceptre sways,
Has not sweeter holydays.
Who'd be a king, can only tell,
When a fhepherd fings fae well
Sings fae well, and pays his due,
With honeft heart and tarry woo,

;

On HENRIETTA's Recovery.

Tune, My deary, if thou die.

I.

F heaven, its bleffings to augment,

IF Call Henny to the skies,

Hence from the earth flies all content,
The moment that the dies;
For in this earth there is no fair
Can give fuch joy to me;
How great muft then be my defpair,
My Henny, an thou die ?

II.

But now pale fickness leaves her face,
And now my charmer smiles ;
New beauty heightens ev'ry grace,

And all my fear beguiles:

The bounteous powers have heard the pray'rs

I daily made for thee,

Like them be kind, and cafe my cares,

Elfe I myself muft die.

HODGE of the Mill and buxome NELL.

Oung Roger of the mill,

You

One morning very soon,

Put on his best apparel,

New hofe and clouted fhoon;

And

And he a-wooing came

To bonny buxome Nell,

Dear lafs, cries he, cou'dft fancy me,

I like thee wondrous well.

My horfes I have drefs'd,

II.

And gi'en them corn and hay, Put on my best apparel:

And having come this way, Let's fit and chat a while

With thee, my bonny Nell.

Dear lafs, cries he, cou'dft fancy me,

I'fe like thy person well.

III.

Young Reger, you're mistaken,
The damfel then reply'd,
I'm not in fuch a hafte

To be a ploughman's bride
Know I then live in hopes
To marry a farmer's fon :
If it be fo, fays Hodge, I'll go ;
Sweet mistress, I have done.

IV.

Your horfes you have drefs'd,
Good Hodge, I heard you fay,

Put on your best apparel;

And being come this way,

Come fit and chat a while.

O no indeed, not I,

I'll neither wait, nor fit, nor prate,

I've other fifh to fry

Go take your farmer's fon,

With all my honeft heart:

What tho' my name be Roger,

That goes at plough and cart

I need not tarry long,

I foon may gain a wife:

There's buxome Joan, it is well known,
She loves me as her life.

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VI.

Pray what of buxome Joan?
Can't I please you as well?
For fhe has ne'er a penny,
And I am buxome Nell;
And I have fifty fhillings.
The money made him smile:
Oh then, my dear, I'll draw a chair,
And chat with thee a while.

VII.

Within the space of half an hour
This couple a bargain struck,
Hoping that with their money
They both wou'd have good luck.
To your fifty I've forty,

With which a cow we'll buy ;
We'll join our hands in wedlock-bands,
Then who but you and I?

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Snack and perfyte as can be ony,

She is fae jimp, fae gamp, fae gay,
Sae capernoytie, and fae bonny :
She has been woo'd and loo'd by mony,
But he was very ill to win ;

She wadna hae him except he were bonny,
Tho' he were ne'er fae noble a kin.

II.

Her bonnynefs has been forefeen

grows

clear ;

In ilka town baith far and near,
And when she kirns her minny's kirn,
She rubs her face till it
But when her minny fhe did perceive
Sic great inlack amang the butter,

Shame fa' that filthy face of thine,

"Tis crish that gars your grunzie glitter.

There's

There's Dunkyfon, Davyfon, Robie Carniel,
The lafs with the petticoat dances right well,
Sing Stidrum, Stouthrum, Suthrum, Stony,
An ye dance ony mair, we'fe tell Mefs Johny.
Sing, &c.

The wife Penitent.
Sung by Mr GAY.

I.*

Apbnis food penfive in the shade;

With arms across, and head reclin'd ;

Pale looks accus'd the cruel maid,

And fighs reliev'd his love-fick mind;
His tuneful pipe all broken lay,

Looks, fighs, and actions feem'd to say,
My Chloe is unkind.

II.

Why ring the woods with warbling throats!
Ye larks, ye linnets, ceafe your ftrains

I faintly hear in your foft notes

;

My Chloe's voice, that wakes my pains. But why fhould you your fongs forbear? Your mates delight your fongs to hear, But Chloe mine difdains.

III.

As thus he melancholy stood

Dejected, as the lonely dove,

Sweet found broke gently thro' the wood.
I feel a found my heart-ftrings move:
'Twas not the nightingale that fung;
No, 'tis Chloe's Tweeter tongue :

Hark! hark! what fays my love?

IV.
How fimple is the nymph, fhe cries,
Who trifles with her lover's pain?
Nature ftill fpeaks in womens eyes,
Our artful lips are made to feign.

Oh

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