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A wanton widow Leezie was,

As canty as a kiitlen;

But och! that night, amang the shaws,

She got a fearfu' settlin!

She thro' the wins, an' by the cairn,

An' owre the hill gaed scrievin,
Whare three lairds' lands met at a burn 14,
To dip her left sark-sleeve in,

Was bent that night.

Whyles owre a lian the burnie plays,
As thro' the glen it wimpl't;
Whyles round a rocky scar it strays;
Whyles in a wiel it dimpl❜t;
Whyles glitter'd to the nightly rays,
Wi' bickering, dancing dazzle;
Whyles cookit underneath the braes,
Below the spreading hazel,

Unseen that night.

Amang the brachens, on the brae,
Between her an' the moon,
The deil, or else an outler quey,
Gat up an' gae a croon :

Poor Leezie's heart maist lap the hool;
Near lav'rock height she jumpit,
But mist a fit, an' in the pool

Out-owre the lugs she plumpit,

Wi' a plunge that night.

14 You go out, one or more (for this is a social spell), to a south running spring or rivulet, where three lairds' lands meet,' and dip your left shirt sleeve. Go to bed in sight of a fire, and hang your wet sleeve before it to dry. Lie awake; and some time near midnight, an apparition, having the exact figure of the grand object in question, will come and turn the sleeve, as if to dry the other side of it.

In order, on the clean hearth-stane,
The luggies three" are ranged,
And ev'ry time great care is ta’en,
To see them duly changed:
Auld uncle John, wha wedlock's joys
Sin Mar's year did desire,

Because he gat the toom dish thrice,
He heav'd them on the fire

In wrath that night.

Wi' merry sangs, an' friendly cracks,
I wat they didna weary;
An' unco tales, an' funnie jokes,

Their sports were cheap an' cheery;
Till butter'd so'ns 16, wi' fragrant lunt,
Set a' their gabs a steerin;

Syne, wi' a social glass o' strunt,
They parted aff careerin

Fu' blythe that night.

15 Take three dishes; put clean water in one, foul water in another, leave the third empty: blindfold a person, and lead him to the hearth where the dishes are ranged; he (or she) dips the left hand: if by chance in the clean water, the future husband or wife will come to the bar of matrimony a maid: if in the foul, a widow: if in the empty dish, it foretells, with equal certainty, no marriage at all. It is repeated three times, and every time the arrangement of the dishes is altered.

16 Sowens, with butter instead of milk to them, is always the Halloween Supper.

THE JOLLY BEGGARS.

A Cantata.

RECITATIVO.

WHEN lyart leaves bestrew the yird,
Or, wavering like the bauckie bird,
Bedim cauld Boreas' blast:
When hailstanes drive wi' bitter skyte,
And infant frosts begin to bite,
In hoary cranreugh drest;
Ae night, at e'en, a merry core
O' randie gangrel bodies,
In Poosie-Nansie's held the splore,
To drink their orra duddies :
Wi' quaffing and laughing,
They ranted and they sang;
Wi' jumping and thumping
The vera girdle rang.

First, niest the fire, in auld red rags,
Ane sat, weel brac'd wi' mealy bags,

And knapsack a' in order;
His doxy lay within his arm,
Wi' usquebae and blankets warm,
She blinket on her sodger;
And aye he gies the tousie drab
The tither skelpin kiss,
While she held up her greedy gab,
Just like an a'mous dish;

1 The old Scottish name for the Bat.

Ilk smack still, did crack still,
Just like a cadger's whup,
Then staggering, and swaggering,
He roar'd this ditty up-

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I AM a son of Mars, who have been in many wars, And show my cuts and scars wherever I come; This here was for a wench, and that other in a

trench, [drum. When welcoming the French at the sound of the Lal de daudle, &c.

My 'prentiship I past where my leader breath'd

his last,

[Abram; When the bloody die was cast on the heights of I serv'd out my trade when the gallant game was

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play'd,

[drum. And the Moro low was laid at the sound of the Lal de daudle, &c.

I lastly was with Curtis, among the floating

batt'ries,

And there I left for witnesses an arm and a limb: Yet let my country need me,with Elliot to head me, I'd clatter on my stumps at the sound of the drum. Lal de daudle, &c.

And now, tho' I must beg, with a wooden arm and leg,

And many a tatter'd rag hanging over my bum, I'm as happy with my wallet, my bottle, and my

callet,

As when I us'd in scarlet to follow the drum. Lal de daudle, &c.

What tho' with hoary locks, I must stand the windy shocks, [home; Beneath the woods and rocks, oftentimes for a When the tother bag I sell, and the tother bottle

tell,

[drum. I could meet a troop of hell at the sound of the

RECITATIVO.

He ended; and the kebars sheuk

Aboon the chorus roar;

While frighted rattans backward leuk,
And seek the benmost bore:
A fairy fiddler frae the neuk,
He skirl'd out encore !
But up arose the martial's chuck,
And laid the loud uproar.

AIR.

TUNE,- Soldier Laddie.'

I ONCE was a maid, tho' I cannot tell when, And still my delight is in proper young men; Some one of a troop of dragoons was my daddie, No wonder I'm fond of a sodger laddie.

Sing, Lal de lal, &c.

The first of my loves was a swaggering blade,
To rattle the thundering drum was his trade;
His leg was so tight, and his cheek was so ruddy,
Transported I was with my sodger laddie.
Sing, Lal de lal, &c.

But the goodly old chaplain left him in the lurch,
So the sword I forsook for the sake of the church,
He ventur'd the soul, I risked the body,
'Twas then I prov'd false to my sodger laddie.
Sing, Lal de lal, &c.

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