APOLOGY FOR DECLINING AN INVITATION TO DINE

No more of your guests, be they titled or not,
And cookery the first in the nation;

Who is proof to thy personal converse and wit,
Is proof to all other temptation.

EPITAPH FOR MR. GABRIEL RICHARDSON

HERE Brewer Gabriel's fire's extinct,
And empty all his barrels:
He's blest-if, as he brew'd, he drink,
In upright, honest morals.

EPIGRAM ON MR. JAMES GRACIE

GRACIE, thou art a man of worth,
O be thou Dean for ever!
May he be d-d to hell henceforth,
Who fauts thy weight or measure!

HC VI

BONIE PEG-A-RAMSAY

CAULD is the e'enin blast,

O' Boreas o'er the pool,

An' dawin it is dreary,

When birks are bare at Yule.

Cauld blaws the e'enin blast,

When bitter bites the frost,

And, in the mirk and dreary drift,
The hills and glens are lost:

II

Ne'er sae murky blew the night
That drifted o'er the hill,
But bonie Peg-a-Ramsay

Gat grist to her mill.

INSCRIPTION AT FRIARS' CARSE HERMITAGE

To the Memory of Robert Riddell.

To Riddell, much lamented man,
This ivied cot was dear;

Wand'rer, dost value matchless worth?
This ivied cot revere.

THERE WAS A BONIE LASS

THERE was a bonie lass, and a bonie, bonie lass,
And she lo'ed her bonie laddie dear;

Till War's loud alarms tore her laddie frae her arms,
Wi' mony a sigh, and a tear.

Over sea, over shore, where the cannons loudly roar,

He still was a stranger to fear;

And nocht could him quail, or his bosom assail,

But the bonie lass he lo'ed sae dear.

WEE WILLIE GRAY

Tune-"Wee Totum Fogg."

WEE Willie Gray, and his leather wallet,
Peel a willow wand to be him boots and jacket;

The rose upon the breir will be him trews an' doublet,
The rose upon the breir will be him trews an' doublet.

Wee Willie Gray, and his leather wallet,
Twice a lily-flower will be him sark and cravat;

Feathers of a flee wad feather up his bonnet,
Feathers of a flee wad feather up his bonnet.

O AYE MY WIFE SHE DANG ME

Chorus-O aye my wife she dang me,

An' aft my wife she bang'd me,
If ye gie a woman a' her will,

Gude faith! she'll soon o'er-gang ye.

ON peace an' rest my mind was bent,
And, fool I was! I married;
But never honest man's intent
Sae cursedly miscarried.
O aye my wife, &c.

Some sairie comfort at the last,
When a' thir days are done, man,

My pains o' hell on earth is past,
I'm sure o' bliss aboon, man,
O aye my wife, &c.

GUDE ALE KEEPS THE HEART ABOON

Chorus-O gude ale comes and gude ale goes;
Gude ale gars me sell my hose,

Sell my hose, and pawn my shoon-
Gude ale keeps my heart aboon!

I HAD Sax Owsen in a pleugh,
And they drew a' weel eneugh:
I sell'd them a' just ane by ane-
Gude ale keeps the heart aboon!
O gude ale comes, &c.

Gude ale hauds me bare and busy,
Gars me moop wi' the servant hizzie,

Stand i' the stool when I hae done—
Gude ale keeps the heart aboon!
O gude ale comes, &c.

O STEER HER UP AN' HAUD HER GAUN

O STEER her up, an' haud her gaun,

Her mither's at the mill, jo;

An' gin she winna tak a man,
E'en let her tak her will, jo.
First shore her wi' a gentle kiss,
And ca' anither gill, jo;
An' gin she tak the thing amiss,
E'en let her flyte her fill, jo.

O steer her up, an' be na blate,
An' gin she tak it ill, jo,
Then leave the lassie till her fate,
And time nae langer spill, jo:
Ne'er break your heart for ae rebute,
But think upon it still, jo:
That gin the lassie winna do't,
Ye'll find anither will, jo.

THE LASS O' ECCLEFECHAN

Tune-" Jack o' Latin."

GAT ye me, O gat ye me,

O gat ye me wi' naething?
Rock an reel, and spinning wheel,

A mickle quarter bason:

Bye attour my Gutcher has

A heich house and a laich ane,

A' forbye my bonie sel,

The toss o' Ecclefechan.

O haud your tongue now, Lucky Lang,
O haud your tongue and jauner
I held the gate till you I met,

Syne I began to wander:

I tint my whistle and my sang,

I tint my peace and pleasure;

But your green graff, now Lucky Lang,
Wad airt me to my treasure.

O LET ME IN THIS AE NIGHT

O LASSIE, are ye sleepin yet,

Or are ye waukin, I wad wit?
For Love has bound me hand an' fit,
And I would fain be in, jo.

Chorus-O let me in this ae night,
This ae, ae, ae night;

O let me in this ae night,

I'll no come back again, jo!

O hear'st thou not the wind an' weet?
Nae star blinks thro' the driving sleet;
Tak pity on my weary feet,

And shield me frae the rain, jo.
O let me in, &c.

The bitter blast that round me blaws,
Unheeded howls, unheeded fa's;
The cauldness o' thy heart's the cause
Of a' my care and pine, jo.

O let me in, &c.

HER ANSWER

O tell na me o' wind an' rain,
Upbraid na me wi' cauld disdain,
Gae back the gate ye cam again,

I winna let ye in, jo.