Wine will make us red as rofes,

And our forrows quit forget: Come let us fuddle all our nofes, Drink ourselves quit out of debt. Fa, la, ra,

etc.

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 fouls.
Fa, la, ra, etc.

Godlike Bacchus thus commanding,
Trembling Death away shall fly,
Ever after understanding,

Drinking fouls can never die.
Fa, la, ra, etc.

MUIRLAND WILLIE.

H

ARKEN, and I will tell you how
Young Muirland Willie came to woo,

Though he could neither fay nor do,

The truth I tell to you.

But ay he cries, Whate'er betide, ́
Maggy I'fe ha'e to be my bride,
With a fal, dal, etc.

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 mofs, out o'er yon muir,
Till he came to her dady's door,

With a fal, dal, &c.

Goodman,

Goodman, quoth he, be ye within ?
I'm come your doghter's love to win,
I care na for making meikle din ;
What answer gi’e ye me ?

Now, wooer, quoth he, wou'd ye light down,
I'll gi'e ye my doghter's love to win,
With a fal, dal, etc.

Now, wooer, fin ye are lighted down,
Where do ye win, or in what town?
I think my doghter winna gloom
On fic a lad as ye.

The wooer he stept up the house,
And wow but he was wond'rous croufe,
With a fal, dal, etc.

I have three owfen in a plough,
Twa good ga'en yads, and gear enough;
The place they ca' it Cadeneugh:

I fcorn to tell a lie.

Befides, I ha'e frae the great laird,
A peat-pat, and a lang kail-yard,
With a fal, dal, etc.

The maid pat on her kirtle brown,
She was the braweft in a' the town;
I wat on him she did na gloom,
But blinkit bonnilie.

The lover he ftended up in hafte,

And gript her hard about the wafte,
With a fal, dal, etc.

To win your love, maid, I'm come here;

I'm young, and ha'e enough o' gear;

And for myfell you need na fear,

Troth try me whan ye like..

He

He took aff his bonnet, and spat in his chow,
He dighted his gab, and he pri'd her mou',
With a fal, dal, etc.

The maiden blush'd, and bing'd fu' la’

She had na will to fay him na,

But to her daddy she left it a',

As they twa cou'd agree.

The lover he gae her the tither kifs,
Syne ran to her dady, and tell'd him this,
With a fal, dal, etc.

Your doughter wad na fay me na,
But to yourfell she has left it a',
As we cou'd 'gree between us twa;
Say, what'll ye gi'e me wi' her?

Now, wooer, quo' he, I ha'e nae meikle,
But fic's I ha'e ye's get a pickle,
With a fal, dal, etc.

A kilnfu' of corn I'll gi'e to thee,
Three foums of sheep, twa good milk ky,
Ye's ha'e the wadding dinner free ;
Troth I dow do na mair. ·

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

The bridal-day it came to pass,
With mony a blythsome lad and lafs;
But ficken a day there never was,
Sic mirth was never feen.

This winfome couple straked hands,
Mels John ty'd up the marriage bands,
With a fal, dal, etc.

And our bride's maidens were na few,
Wi' tap-knots, lug-knots, a' in blew,

Frae

Frae tap to tae they were braw new,
And blinkit bonnilie.

Their toys and mutches were fae clean,
They glanced in our ladfes' een,
With a fal, dal, etc.

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

Wi' meikle mirth and glee.

And ay they bobit, and ay they beckt,
And ay their wames together mét,
With a fal, dal, etc.

Z.

The PROMIS'D JOY.

Tune, Carl an the King come.

WHEN we meet again, Phely,

When we meet again, Phely,

Raptures will reward our pain,
And lofs refult in gain, Phely,

Long the fport of Fortune driv'n,
To defpair our thoughts were giv'n,
Our odds will all be ev'n, Phely,

When we meet again, Phely, etc.

Now in dreary distant groves,
Though we moan like turtle-doves,
Suff'ring beft our virtue proves,
And will enhance our loves, Phely,
When we meet again, Phely, etc.

Joy will come in a surprise,
Till its happy hour arise;

Temper

Temper well your love-fick fighs,
For hope becomes the wife, Phely.
When we meet again, Phely,
When we meet again, Phely,
Raptures will reward our pain,
And lofs refult in gain, Phely.

M.

TO DELIA, on her drawing him to her Valentine.

Tune, Black ey'd Sufan.

E Pow'rs! was Damon then fo bleft,

YE

To fall to charming Delia's fhare ;
Delia, the beauteous maid, poffeft

Of all that's foft, and all that's fair?
Here cease thy bounty, O indulgent Heav'n!
I ask no more, for all my wish is giv❜n.

I came, and Delia fmiling fhow'd,

She fmil'd, and fhow'd the happy name
With rifing joy my heart o'erflow'd,

I felt, and blefs'd the new-born flame.
May foftest pleasures careless round her move,
May all her nights be joy, and days be love

She drew the treasure from her breast,

That breaft where love and graces play, O name beyond expreffion bleft!

Thus lodg'd with all that's fair and gay. To be fo lodg'd! the thought is ecftacy,

Who would not wishin paradise to ly?

R.

The