Love Jupiter into a fwan,
Turn'd for his lovely Leda; He like a bull o'er meadows ran, Το carry aff Europa.
Then may not I, as well as he,
To cheat your Argos blinker,
And win your love, like mighty Jove,
Thus hide me in a tinkler?
Fa adrie, didle, didle, &c.
Sir, ye appear a cunning man,
But this fine plot you'll fail in,
For there is neither pot nor pan
Of mine you'll drive a nail in.
Then bind your budget on your back,
And nails up in your apron,
For I've a tinkler under tack
That's us'd to clout my caldron.
Fa adrie, didle, didle, &c.
HE malt-man comes on Munday,
He craves wonder fair,
Cries, Dame, come gi'e me my filler,
Or malt ye fall ne'er get mair.
I took him into the pantry,
And gave him fome good cock-broo
Syne paid him upon a gantree,..
As hoftler-wives fhould do.
When malt-men come for filler,
And gaugers with wands o'er foon,
Wives, tak them a' down to the cellar,
And clear them as I have done.
This bewith, when cunzie is fcanty,
Will keep them frae making din;
The knack I learn'd frae an auld aunty,
The fnackeft of a' my kin.
The malt-man is right cunning,
But I can be as flee,
And he may crack of his winning,
When he clears fcores with me:
For come when he likes, I'm ready;
But if frae hame I be,
Let him wait on our kind lady,
She'll answer a bill for me.
Ely's beauties fhine fae bright,
Were her many virtues fewer,
She wad ever give delight,
And in tranfport make me view her.
VOL. I.
Bonny Belly, thee alane
Love I, naething else about thee;
With thy comeliness I'm tane,
And langer cannot live without thee.
Beffy's bofom's faft and warm,
Milk-white fingers ftill employ'd;
He who takes her to his arm,
Of her fweets can ne'er be cloy'd.
My dear Bey, when the rofes
Leave thy cheek, as thou grows aulder,
Virtue, which thy mind difcloses,
Will keep love frae growing caulder.
Bey's tocher is but fcanty,
Yet her face and foul discovers
Thefe inchanting fweets in plenty
Muft entice a thousand lovers.
'Tis not money, but a woman
Of a temper kind and easy,
That gives happiness uncommon,
Petted things can nought but teaze ye.
SI went forth to view the spring,
Which Flora had adorned
In raiment fair; now every thing
The rage of winter fcorned:
I caft mine eye, and did espy
A youth, who made great clamor ; And drawing nigh, I heard him cry, Ah! omnia vincit amor,
Upon his breast he lay along,
Hard by a murm'ring river,
And mournfully his doleful song
With fighs he did deliver;
Ah! Jeany's face has comely grace,
Her locks that fhine like lammer, With burning rays have cut my days; For omnia vincit amor.
Her glancy een like comets sheen,
The morning-fun outshining,
Have caught my heart in Cupid's net,
And make me die with pining.
Durft I complain, nature's to blame,
So curioufly to frame her,
Whose beauties rare make me with care
Cry, Omnia vincit amor.
Ye cryftal fireams that fwiftly glide,
Be partners of my mourning,
Ye fragrant fields and meadows wide,
Condemn her for her fcorning:
Let every tree a witness be,
How juftly I may blame her
Ye chanting birds, note these my words,
Ah! omnia vincit amor.
Had she been kind as she was fair,
She long had been admired,
And been ador'd for virtues rare,
Wh' of life now makes me tired.
Thus faid, his breath began to fail,
He could not fpeak, but flammer;
He figh'd full fore, and faid no more,
But omnia vincit amor.
When I obferv'd him near to death,
I run in hafte to fave him,
But quickly he refign'd his breath,
So deep the wound love gave him.
Now for her fake this vow I'll make,
My tongue fhall ay defame lier,
While on his herfe I'll write this verfe,
Ah! omnia vincit amor.
Straight I confider'd in my mind
Upon the matter rightly,
And found, though Cupid he be blind,
He proves in pith most mighty.
For warlike Mars, and thund'ring Jov
And Vulcan with his hammer,
Did ever prove the flaves of love,
For omnia vincit amor.
Hence we may fee th' effects of love,
Which gods and men keep under,
That nothing can his bonds remove,
Or torments break afunder :
Nor wife, nor fool, need go to school,
To learn this from his grammar;
His heart's the book, where he's to look,
For omnia vincit amor.
The auld Wife beyont the Fire.
Here was a wife won'd in a glen,.
And he had dochters nine or ten,
That ought the house baith but and ben,
To find their mam a fnishing.
The auld wife beyant the fire,
The auld wife anieft the fire,
The auld wife aboon the fire,
She died for lack of fnishing.
Her mill into fome hole had fawn,
Whatrecks, quoth fhe, let it be gawn,
For I maun hae a young goodman
Shall furnish me with fnifhing.
The auld wife, &c..
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