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Befides haff bha'e the Gout,
Your Mill had nae Snifhing.
The auld Wife, &c.

Ye lied, ye Limmers, cried auld Mump, For I ha'e baith a Tooth and Stump t And will nae langer live in dump,

By wanting of my Snifhing.
The auld Wife, &c.

Thole ye, fays Peg, that pawky Slut,
Mother, if you can crack a Nut,

Then we will a' confent to it,'n vakk
That you shall have a Snishing.
The auld Wife, &

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The auld ane did agree to that, dick

And they a Pistol Bullet gat

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She powerfully began to crack, bA
To won herfell a Snishing,
The auld Wife, &c.

Braw Sport it was to fee her chow't,

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And 'tween her Gums fae fquecz and row't
While frae her Jaws the Slaver flow't;
And ay the curs'd poor Stumpy."
The auld Wife, &c.

At laft the ga'e a defperate Squeez,
Which brak the lang Tooth by the Neez,
And fyne poor Stumpy was at Rafe,
But the tint Hopes of Snifhing.
The auld Wife, &c.

She of the Tafk began to tire,
And frae her Dochters did retire,
Syne lean'd her down ayont the Fire,
And died for Lack of Snifhing.
The auld Wife, &c.

Ye auld Wives notice well this Truth,
Alfoon as ye're paft Mark of Mouth,
Ne'er do what's only fit for Youth,

And leave aff Thoughts of Snishing s
Elfe like this Wife beyont the Fire
SY'er Bairns against you qvill conspire yi

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Nor will ye get, unless ye bire
A young Man with your Snishing.

Note, Snifhing in its literal Meaning is Snuff made of Tobacco; but in this Song it means fometimes Contentment, a Hufband, Love, Money, &c.

SONG CCCXV. I'll never love, &c.

MY:

Y dear and only Love, I pray,
That little World of thee,
Be govern'd by no other Sway,
But pureft Monarchy:
For if Confufion have a part,
Which virtuous Souls abhor,
I'll call a Synod in my Heart,
And never love thee more.
As Alexander I will reign,
And I will reign alone,
My Thoughts did evermore difdain
A Rival on my Throne.

He either fears his Fate too much,
Or his Deferts are fmall,

Who dares not put it to the Touch,
To gain or lofe it all.

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But I will reign, and govern still,
And always give the Law,

And have each Subject to my Will,
And all to ftand in awe :
But 'gainft my Batteries if I find
Thou ftorm, or vex me fore,

As if thou fet me as a Blind,
I'll never love thee more.
And in the Empire of thy Heart,
Where I fhould folely be,

If others do pretend a Part,

Or dare to fhare with me:
Or Committees if thou erect,
Or go on fuch a Score,
Ifmiling mack at thy Negle&,
And never love thee more.

But if no faithlefs Action ftain

Thy Love and conftant Word,
I'll make thee famous by my Pen,
And glorious by my Sword.
I'll ferve thee in fuch noble Ways,
As ne'er was known before;
I'll deck and crown thy Head with Bays,
And love thee more and more.

SONG CCCXVI. The Black Bird.

U

Pon a fair Morning for foft Recreation,

I heard a fair Lady was making her
Moan,

With Sighing and Sobing, and fad Lamentation,
Saying, my Black-Bird moft royal is flown.
My Thoughts they deceive me,
Reflections do grieve me,

And I am o'erburthen'd with fad Mifery;
Yet if Death fhould blind me,

As true Love inclines me,

My Black-Bird I'll feek out, wherever he be.
Once in fair England, my Black-Bird did flourish,
He was the chief Flower that in it did fpring;
Prime Ladies of Honour his. Perfon did nourish,
Because he was the true Son of a King:
But fince that falle Fortune,

Which ftill is uncertain,

Has caused this Parting between him and me, His Name I'll advance.

In Spain and in France,

And feek out my Black-Bird wherever he be.

The Birds of the Foreft all met together,

The Turtle has chofen to dwell with the Dove; And I am refolv'd in foul or fair Weather, Once in the Spring to feek out my Love, He's all my Heart's Treasure,

My Joy and my Pleasure;

And justly (my Love) my Heart follows thee,

Who are conftant and kind,
And courageous of Mind,

All Blifs on my Black-Bird wherever he be.
In England my Black-Bird and I were together,
Where he was still noble, and generous of

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Ah! woe to the Time that first he went thither,
Alas! he was fore'd foon thence to depart.
In Scotland he's deem'd

And highly efteem'd,

In England he feemeth a Stranger to be;
Yet his Fame fhall remain
In France and in Spain,

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All Blifs to my Black-Bird, wherever he be.
What if the Fowler my Black-Bird has taken,
Then Sighing and Sobbing will be all my Tune;
But if he is fafe, I'll not be forfaken,
And hope yet to fee him in May or in June,
For him thro' the Fire,

Thro' Mud, and thro' Mire,

I'll go; for I love him to fuch a Degree,
Who is conftant and kind,

And noble of Mind,

Deferving all Bleffinge wherever he be.

It is not the Ocean can fright me with Danger,
Nor tho' like a Pilgrim I wander forlorn,
I may meet with Friendship of one is a Stranger,
More than of one that in Britain is born.
I pray Heaven fo fpacious,

To Britain be gracious,

YI

Tho' fome there be odious to both him and me, Yet Joy and Renown,

And Lawrels fhall crown

My Black-Bird With Honour wherever he be.

SONG CCCXVII Take your auld Cloak about you.

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N Winter when the Rain rain'd caul'd,
And Froft and Snaw on, ilka Hill,

IN

And Boreas, with his Blafts fae bauld,
Was threat'ning a' our Ky to kill:
Then Bell my Wife, wha loves nae Strife,
She faid to me right hastily,

Get up, Goodman, fave Cromie's Life,
And tak your auld Cloak about

My Cromie is an useful Cow,

ye.

And fhe is come of a good Kyne; Aft has the wet the Bairn's Mou, And I am laith that the fhould tyne ; Get up, Goodman, it is fou Time, The Sun-fhines in the Lift fae hie; Sloth never made a gracious End.

Go tak your auld Cloak about ye.

My Cloak was anes a good gray Cloak,
When it was fitting for my Wear;
But now it's fcantly worth a Groat,
For I have worn't this thirty Year ;
Let's spend the Gear that we have won,
We little ken the Day we'll die:
Then I'll be proud, fince I have fworn
To have a new Cloak about me.

In Days when our King Robert rang,
His Trews they coft but haff a Crown ;
He faid they were a Groat o'er dear,

And call'd the Taylor Thief and Loon.
He was the King that wore a Crown,
And thou the Man of laigh Degree,
'Tis Pride puts a' the Country down,
Sae tak thy auld Cloak about thee.

Every Land has its ain Laugh,

Ilk kind of Corn it has its Hool,
I think the Warld is a' run wrang,
When ilka Wife her Man wad rule;
Do
ye not fee Rob, Jock, and Hab,
As they are girded gallantly,
While I fit hurklen in the Afe;
I'll have a new Cloak about me.

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