A Scotch SONG.

IN

N Fanuary last, on Munnonday at Morn,
As I along the Fields did pass to view the
Winter's Corn ;

I leaked me behind, and I saw come over the Knough,
Yan glenting in an Apron with bonny brent Brow.

I bid gud morrow fair Maid, and she right courteouslie, Bekt lew and fine, kind Sir, she said, gud day agen to

ye;

I spear'd o her, fair Maid quo I, how far intend ye now? Quo she, I mean a Mile or twa, to yonder bonny brow.

Fair Maid, I'm weel contented to have sike Company, For I am ganging out the Gate that ya intend ta be; When we had walk'd a Mile or twa, Ize said to her, my Doe,

May I not dight your Apron fine, kiss your bonny brow.

Nea, gud Sir, you are far misteen, for I am nean o'those, I hope ya ha more Breeding then to dight a Womans Cloaths;

For I've a better chosen than any sike as you,

Who boldly may my Apron dight and kiss ma bonny brow.

Na, if ya are contracted, I have ne mar to say,
Rather than be rejected, I will give o'er the play ;
And I will chose yen o me own that shall not on me

rew,

Will boldly let me dight her Apron, kiss her bonny brow.

Sir, Ize see ya are proud-hearted, and leath to be said

nay,

You need not tall ha started, for eight that Ize ded say; You know Wemun for Modestie, ne at the first time boo, But, gif we like your Company, we are as kind as you.

MY

Y dear Cock adoodle,
My Jewel, my Joy;
My Darling, my Honey,
My Pretty sweet Boy :
Before I do Rock thee,

With soft Lul-la-by;
Give me thy sweet Lips,

To be Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss.

Thy Charming high Fore-head,

Thy Eyes too like Sloes;

Thy fine Dimple Chin,

And thy right Roman Nose :

With some pretty marks,

That lie under thy Cloaths;
Sure thou'lt be a rare one,
To Kiss, kiss, &c.

To make thee grow quickly,
I'll do what I can :

I'll Feed thee, I'll Stroak thee,
I'll make thee a Man :
Ah! then how the Lasses,
Moll, Betty and Nan;

By thee will run Mad,
To be Kiss, kiss, &c.

And when in due Season,
My Billy shall Wed;
And Lead a young Lady,
From Church to the Bed:

A Welfare the loosing,

Of her Maiden-Head;

If Billy come near her,
To Kiss, kiss, &c.

Then Welfare high Fore-head,
And Eyes black as Sloes;
And Welfare the Dimple,

And Welfare the Nose:
And all pretty Marks,

That lie under the Cloaths;
For none is more hopeful,
To Kiss, kiss, &c.

A

A New SONG.

Set by Mr. J. Clarke.

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