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The wanton wee thing will rejoice,

When tented by a sparkling eye,
The spinet tinkling with her voice,

It lying on her lovely knee.

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While kettles dringe on ingles dour,

Or clashes stay the lazy lass;
Thir fangs may ward you frae the four,

And gaily vacant minutes pass..
E'en while the tea's fill'd reeking round,

Rather than plot a tender tongue,
Treat a' the circling lugs wi' sound,

Syne fafely fip when ye have sung,
May happiness haud up your hearts,

And warm you-lang with loving Sires :
May Pow'rs propitious play their parts,

In matching you to your desires.

EDINBURGH,?
ist Jan. 1724.

A. RAMSAY

P R E FACE,

ALTHOUGH it be acknowledged, that our

Scots Tunes have not lengthened variety of Music, yet they have an agreeable gaiety and natural sweetness that make them acceptable wherever they are known, not only among ourselves, but in other countries. They are for the most part fo chearful, that, on hearing them well played or sung, we find a difficulty to keep ourselves from dancing. What further adds to the esteem we have for them, is, their antiquity, and their being universally known. Man. kind's love for novelty would appear to contradict this reason; but will not, when we consider, that for one that can tolerably entertain with vocal or instrument. al Music, there are fifty who content themselves with the pleasure of hearing, and singing without the trouble of being taught: Now, such are not judges of the fine flourishes of new Music imported from Italy and elsewhere, yet will listen with pleasure to Tunes that they know, and can join with in the Cho

rus. Say that our way is only an harmonious fpeak. ing of merry, witty, or soft thoughts, after the Poet has dressed them in four or five stanzas; yet undoubt. edly these must relish best with people, who have not bestowed much of their time in acquiring a taste for that downright perfect Music, which requires nones, or very little of the Poet's affistance.

My being well assured, how acceptable new words to known Tunes would prove, engaged me to the making verses for above fixty of them, in this and the second Volume: about thirty more were done by some ingenuous young Gentlemen, who were so well pleased with my undertaking, that they generously lent me their affistance; and to them the lovers of Sense and Music are obliged for some of the best Songs in the Collection. The rest are fuch old verses, as have been done time out of mind, and only wanted. to be cleared from the drofs of blundering Transcribers and Printers; such as, The Gaberlunzie: Man, Muirland. Willy, &c. that claim their place in our Collection, for their merry images of the low character.

This twelfth Edition in a few years, and the gene. ral demand for the Book by persons of all ranks, where: ever our language is understood, is a sure evidence of

it's being acceptable. My worthy friend, Dr. Ban, nerman, tells me from America,

Not only do your Lays o'er Britain flow,
Round all the globe your happy Sonnets go;
Here thy soft verfe made to a Scottish air,
Are often fung by our Virginian fair:
Camilla's warbling notes are heard no more,
But yield to Last time I came o'er the Moor ;
Hydaspes and Rinaldo both give way
To Mary Scot, Tweed-side, and Mary Gray..

From this and the following Volume, Mr. Thomfort (who is allowed by all, to be a good teacher and singer of Scots Songs) culled his Orphéus Caledonius, the music for both the voice and flute, and the words of the Songs finely engraven in a folio book, for the use of persons of the highest quality in Britain, and De. dicated to the late Queen. This, by the bye, I thought proper to intimate, and do myself that justice which the Publisher neglected; fince he ought to have ac. quainted his illustrious list of Subscribers, that the most of the Songs were mine, the Music abstracted.

In my Compositions and Collections, I have kept out all smut and ribaldry, that the modest. voice and

ear of the fair finger might meet with no affront; the chief bent of all my Audies being, to gain their good graces; and it shall always be my care, to ward off these frowas that would prove mortal to my Muse.

Now, little books, go your ways; be assured of fa. vourable reception wherever the sun shines on the free. born chearful Briton ; steal yourselves into the ladies bosoms. Happy volumes ! you are to live too as long as the Song of Homer in Greek and English, and mix your ashes only with the Odes of Horace. Were it but my fate, when old and ruffled, like you to be a. gain reprinted, what a curious figure would I appear on the utmost limits of time, after a thousand Editions: Happy volumes ! you are secure, but I must yield; please the Ladies, and take care of my fame.

In hopes of this, fearless of coming age,

I'll smile thro' life; and when for rhyme renorun'd, I'll calmly quit the farce and giddy ftage, And feep beneath a flow'ry turf full

found.

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