But, take my word, 'tis then o'er late
To gain a wayward man ;

A maiden auld her hooks may bait
But catch us gin you can!"

"An unco prize forsooth ye are ;
For, when the bait is tane,
Ye fill our hearts sae fu' o' care,
We wish them back again.
To witch our faith, ye tell a tale
O' love that ne'er will end;
Nae hinny'd words wi' me prevail,
For men will never mend."

"But Jenny, look at aunty Kate, Wha is a maiden auld,

I's warrant she repented late

When wooers' hearts grew cauld.
An ape to lead's a silly thing
When ye step down below,
Or here to sit wi' chittering wing
Like birdies i' the snow."

"That's better than to sit at hame

Wi' saut tears i' my ee;

An ape I think's an harmless thing

To sic a thing as ye.

Good men are chang'd frae wooers sair,

And naething do but slight;

A wife becomes a drudge o' care,

And never's in the right.

"There's bonny Tibby o' the glen,

And Annie o' the hill,

Their beauty crazed baith their men,
And might delight them still;

But now they watch their lordies' frowns,
Their sauls they daurna own;

'Tis tyranny that wedlock crowns,
And woman's joys are flown."

O JENNY DEAR, THE WORD IS GANE.

AIR-Cauld and Raw.

O Jenny dear, the word is gane,

That ye are unco saucy,

And that ye think this race o' men

Deserves na sic a lassie.

Troth! gin ye wait till men are made
O' something like perfection,

I fear ye'll wait till it be said—
Ye're late for your election.

The men agree to gie ye choice,—
What think ye o' young Harry?
"He ne'er shall hae my hand or voice!
Wha wad a monkey marry?

He plays his pranks, he curls his hair,
And acts by imitation;

A dawted monkey does nae mair

Than ape the tricks o' fashion.

Now Sandy he affects the bear,

And growls at a' that's pleasing;
Gin ye've a soft or jaunty air,

That air provokes his teasing:
Gin ye be cheerfu', blithe, and free,
A' that is unbecoming,—
Can ne'er the heartsome temper be
Of ony modest woman.

Then Colin, too, although polite,
Has nae sma' share o' learning,
Yet stretching out his words sae tight,
They're sadly spoil'd wi' darning.
He cons his speech, he mends his phrase,
For fear he speaks na grammar;
When done, ye'd think that a' his days
He'd only learn'd to hammer.

Now Jockey he has wit at will,

He sings, he plays, he dances, He's aye sae blithe, he's certain still To hit the young ane's fancies; His words they flow wi' gracefu' ease, They speak a heart maist tender; Yet underneath these words that please There lurks a sad offender.

Not a' the wealth o' rich Peru

Could keep poor James frae fretting;

The gentlest gales that ever blew
His peace wad overset in.

What can I do, gin apes below

To lead should be my station,

Although ilk ape should prove some beau
Once famous in this nation?"

O THERE IS NOT A SHARPER DART.

O there is not a sharper dart

Can pierce the mourner's suffering heart,
Than when the friend we love and trust
Tramples that friendship into dust,—
Forgets the sacred, honour'd claim,
And proves it but an empty name !

I almost as a sister lov'd thee,

And thought that nothing could have mov'd thee! But, like the dewdrops on a spray

That shrinks before the morning ray,—

Like the frail sunshine on the stream,

Thy friendship faded as a dream.

When sickness and when sorrow tried me,
Thy aid-thy friendship was denied me;
Thy love was but a summer flower,
And could not stand the wintry shower:
More for thyself than me I grieve
Thou could'st thus cruelly deceive.

I AM OF A TEMPER FIXED AS A DECREE.

I am of a temper fixed as a decree,

Resolv'd with myself to live happy and free;
With the cares of this world I am seldom perplex'd,
I am sometimes uneasy, but never quite vex'd ;
I am neither too high nor too low in degree; [me.
There are more that live worse than live better than

My life thus moves on amid freedom and ease,
I go where I will, and I come when I please ;
I am plac'd below envy, and yet above spite;
I've judgment enough still to do myself right:
Some higher, some lower, I own there may be,
But ambition and want are both strangers to me.

When money comes in, pleas'd I live till 'tis gone,
I am happy when with it, contented with none;
If I spend it 'mong friends I count it but lent,
It thus goes genteelly-I never repent;

With mirth to my labour the hours sweetly pass,
Though at Saturday night I am just where I was.

I'LL HAE A NEW COATIE.

AIR-We'll a' to Newcastle by Wylam way.

I'll hae a new coatie when Willie comes hame,
I'll hae a new plaidie an' a' o' the same;
An' I'll hae some pearlings to make mysel fine,
For it's a' to delight this dear laddie o' mine.