Now we maun totter down, John, but hand in | He begged, for gudesake! I wad be his wife, Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrow; hand we'll go, And we'll sleep thegither at the foot, John An- Sae, e'en to preserve the puir body in life, derson, my jo. I speir'd for my cousin, fou couthie and sweet, And how my auld shoon fitted her shauchled Gude sauf us! how he fell a-swearin', aswearin', Gude sauf us! how he fell a-swearin'. In Scotland, when a cast-off lover pays his addresses to a new mistress, that new mistress is said to have got the auld shoon (old shoes) of the former one. Here the metaphor is inade to carry an extremely ingenious sarcasm at the clumsiness of the new mistress's person. I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-637row, I think I maun wed him to-morrow. LASSIE WI' THE LINT-WHITE LOCKS. Lassie wi' the lint white locks, Bonnie lassie, artless lassie, Now Nature cleads the flowery lea, And say thou'lt be my dearie, O? And when the welcome simmer shower When Cynthia lights, wi' silver ray, Lassie, wi', &c. And when the howling wintry blast LAY THY LOOF IN MINE, LASS A slave to love's unbounded sway, Unless thou be my ain. There's mony a lass has broke my rest, The bursting sigh, th' unweeting groan Betray the hopeless lover. I know my doom must be despair, Thou wilt, nor canst relieve me ; The music of thy tongue I heard, The wheeling torrent viewing; 'Mid circling horrors yields at last To overwhelming ruin. To thee my fancy took its wing I sat, but neither heard nor saw. Though this was fair, and that was braw, And you the toast o' a' the town, I sigh'd, and said amang them a', O, Mary, canst thou wreck his peace, MARK YONDER POMP. Tune-" Deil tak' the wars." MARK yonder pomp of costly fashion, But never, never can come near the heart. But did you see my dearest Chloris, Lovely as yonder sweet opening flower is, O then the heart alarming, And all resistless charming, MEG O' THE MILL. Tune-"O bonnie lass, will you lie in a barrack." The miller was strappin', the miller was ruddy; The miller he hecht her a heart leal and loving: ving; A fine pacing-horse wi' a clear-chain'd bridle, A whip by her side, and a bonny side-saddle. O wae on the siller, it's sae prevailing; In Love's delightful fetters she chains the wil- But, Gie me my love, and a fig for the warl! ling soul! |