Shall I, like a fool, quoth he,
For a haughty hizzie die?
She may go-to France for me!
Ha, ha, &c.

How it comes let doctors tell,
Ha, ha, &c.

Meg grew sick - as he grew well,
Ha, ha, &c.

Something in her bosom wrings;
For relief a sigh she brings;

And O, her een, they spak sic things
Ha, ha, &c.

Duncan was a lad o' grace,
Ha, ha, &c.

Maggie's was a piteous case,
Ha, ha, &c.

Duncan could na be her death,
Swelling pity smoor'd his wrath;
Now they're crouse and cantie baith;
Ha, ha, &c.

LAST May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen, And sair wi' his love he did deave me!

I said there was naething I hated like men;

The deuce gae wi'm to believe me, believe me, The deuce gae wi'm, to believe me.

He spak o' the darts in my bonie black een,
And vow'd for my love he was dying;

I said he might die when he liked, for Jean;
The Lord forgie me for lying, for lying,
The Lord forgie me for lying.

A well-stocked mailen, himsel' for the laird,
And marriage aff-hand, were his proffers;
I never loot on that I kenn'd it, or car'd,

But thought I might hae waur offers, waur offers, But thought I might hae waur offers.

But what wad ye think? in a fortnight or less,
The deil tak his taste to gae near her!

He up the lang loan, to my black cousin Bess,
Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her, could bea
her,

Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her.

But a' the niest week, as I fretted wi' care,
I gaed to the tryste o' Dalgarnock;
And wha but my fine, fickle lover was there!
I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock, a warlock,
I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock.

But owre my left shouther I gaed him a blink,
Lest neebors might say I was saucy;

My wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink,
And vow'd I was his dear lassie, dear lassie,
And vow'd I was his dear lassie.

I spier'd for my cousin, fu' couthie and sweet,
Gin she had recover'd her hearin',

And how her new shoon fit her auld shackl't feet?

But, heavens! how he fell a-swearin', a-swearin, But, heavens! how he fell a-swearin'.

He begg'd, for Gude-sake! I wad be his wife,
Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrow:

Bo, e'en to preserve the poor body in life,

I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow I think I maun wed him to-morrow.

WILLIE'S WIFE.

WILLIE WASTLE dwalt on Tweed,
The spot they ca'd it Linkumdoddie;
Willie was a wabster guid,

Cou'd stown a clue wi' onie bodie:
He had a wife was dour and din,
O Tinkler Madgie was her mother.

CHORUS.

Sic a wife as Willie had!

I wad na gie a button for her.

She has an e'e-she has but ane,

The cat has twa the very color;
Five rusty teeth, forbye a stump,

A clapper-tongue wad deave a miller;
A whiskin' beard about her mou,

Her nose and chin they threaten ither.
Sic a wife, &c.

She's bough-hough'd, she's hein-shinn'd,
Ae limpin' leg, a hand-breed shorter;
She's twisted right, she's twisted left,
To balance fair in i'ka quarter:
She has a hump upon her breast,
The twin o' that upon her shouther.
Sic a wife, &c.

Auld baudron by the ingle sits,

And wi' her loof her face a-washin'; But Willie's wife is nae sae trig,

She dights her grunzie wi' a hushion; Her walie nieves, like midden-creels, Her face wad fyle the Logan-water. Sic a wife, &c.

A PECK O' MAUT.

O WILLIE brew'd a peck o' maut,
And Rob and Allen cam to see,
Three blither hearts, that lee-lang night.
Ye wad na find in Christendie.

CHORUS.

We are na fou, we're na that fou,

But just a drappie in our e'e;

The cock may craw, the day may daw, And ay we'll taste the barley bree

Here are we met, three merry boys,

Three merry boys, I trow, are we:

And monie a night we've merry been,
And monie mae we hope to be!

We are, &c.

It is the moon, I ken her horn,

That's blinkin' in the lift sac hie;
She shines sae bright to wyle us haine,
But, by my sooth, she'll wait a wee'
We are, &c.

Wha first shall rise to gang awa,
A cuckold, coward loun is he!
Wha last beside the chair shall fa',
He is the king amang us three

We are, &c.

THE LAWIN.

GANE is the day and mirk's the night,
But we'll ne'er stray for foute o' light;
For ale and brandy's stars and moon,
And bluid-red wine's the rising sun.

CHORUS.

Then, guidwife, count the lawin, the lawin, the

lawin;

Then, guidwife, count the lawin, and bring a coggie mair.

There's wealth and ease for gentlemen,
And semple folk maun fecht and fen'.