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O why thus all alone are mine
The trout in yonder wimpling burn
And, safe beneath the shady thorn,
My life was ance that careless stream,
Has scorch'd my fountains dry.
That little floweret's peaceful lot,
Nae ruder visit knows,
Was mine, till Love has o'er me past,
And now, beneath the withering blast,
The waken'd lav'rock warbling springs,
In morning's rosy eye;
As little reck'd I sorrow's power,
Until the flowery snare
O' witching Love, in luckless hour,
O had my fate been Greenland snows,
Wi' man and nature leagued my foes,
The wretch whose doom is "Hope nae mair"
O THAT'S THE LASSIE O' MY HEART
O WAT ye wha that lo’es me
As dews o' summer weeping,
Chorus-O that's the lassie o' my heart,
O she's the queen o' womankind,
If thou shalt meet a lassie,
In grace and beauty charming,
If thou hadst heard her talking,
But her, by thee is slighted,
If thou hast met this Fair One,
If every other Fair One
But her, thou hast deserted,
And thou art broken-hearted;
O that's the lassie o' my heart,
My lassie ever dearer;
O that's the queen o' womankind,
Written on the blank leaf of a copy of the last edition of my poems, presented to the Lady whom, in so many fictitious reveries of passion, but with the most ardent sentiments of real friendship, I have so often sung under the name of "Chloris." 1
"TIs Friendship's pledge, my young, fair Friend,
Nor thou the gift refuse,
Nor with unwilling ear attend
The moralising Muse.
Since thou, in all thy youth and charms,
Must bid the world adieu,
(A world 'gainst Peace in constant arms)
Since, thy gay morn of life o'ercast,
Since life's gay scenes must charm no more,
Still nobler wealth hast thou in store
The comforts of the mind!
Thine is the self-approving glow,
The joys refin'd of Sense and Taste,
And doubly were the Poet blest,
1 Miss Lorimer.
WILL ye go to the Hielands, Leezie Lindsay,
FRAGMENT.-THE WREN'S NEST
THE Robin to the Wren's nest
Cam keekin' in, cam keekin' in;
NEWS, LASSIES, NEWS
Chorus-The wean wants a cradle,
And the cradle wants a cod:
Father, quo' she, Mither, quo she,
Do what you can,
Until I get a man.
The wean, &c.
I hae as gude a craft rig
As made o' yird and stane;
And waly fa' the ley-crap,
For I maun till'd again.
The wean, &c.
CROWDIE EVER MAIR
O THAT I had ne'er been married,
Chorus-Ance crowdie, twice crowdie,
Ye'll crowdie a' my meal away.
Waefu' Want and Hunger fley me,
Glowrin' by the hallan en';
Sair I fecht them at the door,
MALLY'S MEEK, MALLY'S SWEET
As I was walking up the street,
It were mair meet that those fine feet
Were weel laced up in silken shoon;
Her yellow hair, beyond compare,
Comes trinklin down her swan-like neck,
And her two eyes, like stars in skies,
Would keep a sinking ship frae wreck,