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He's auld and fail'd and wants his sleep,
Sae by the hallan saftly creep,
Ye needna watch, and glowr, and peep,

I'll meet you, never fear, man.

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Whene'er we at the market meet,
Dinna look like ane hauf daft,
Or talk about the cauld and heat,

As ye were weather-wise, man.
Haud up your head, and bauldly speak, '
And keep the blushes frae your cheek,
For he wha has his tale to seek,
We lasses a' despise, man.

If a lassie, 8c.

I met you lately a' your lane,
Ye seem'd like ane stown frae the dead,
Your teeth e 'en chattered in your head,

But ne’er a word o' love, man ;
I spak, ye look'd anither way,
Then trembled as ye'd got a flay,
And owre your shouther cried, “gude day,',
Nor ance to win me strave, man.

If a lassie, fc.

i

My aunty left me threescore poun'
But de'il a ane o' a' the men
Till then did bare-legg'd Elspa ken',

Or car'd a strae for me, man ;
Now tugging at me soon and late,
They're cleeking but the yellow bait:
Sae mind me, Tam, I needna wait,
When I hae choice o' three, man.

If a lassie, fc.

There lives a lad owre yonder muir,
He has nae faut but ane he's puir ;
Whene'er we meet wi' kisses sweet,

He's like to be my death, man :
And there's a lad ahint yon trees,
Wad waud for me aboon the knees;
Sae tell your mind, or, if ye please,
Nae langer fash us baith, mana

If a lassie, fc.

LXXXVI.

'TIS SAID THAT MEN ARE FALSE AND

FICKLE.

'Tis said that men are false and fickle,

And oft too true the charge may be ;
But who had thought a tear should trickles

For woman; Lela, such as thee.

When to this bosom last I press'd thee,

I little thought we e'er should part ;
But since others have caress'd thee,

Sure thy love to me was art.

The wind is fair to waft me over,

Far from home, and far from thee,
But in vain thy too-fond lover,

Strives to bid his heart be free.

Sweet Lela, fare thee well! may heaven

Shield thy heart from woes like mine,
Be this thy only fault forgiven,

And peace and joy continue thine.

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Pale thy cheek now, where thy lover,

Poor Mary Anne ! Once could winning charms discover ;

Poor Mary Anne! Dim those eyes, so sweetly speaking, When true love's expression seeking Oh! we saw thy heart was breaking,

Poor Mary Anne!

Like a rose we saw thee wither,

Poor Mary Anne !
Soon, a corpse we brought thee hither,

Poor Mary Anne !
Now our evening pastime flying,
We, in heartfelt sorrow vieing,
Seek thy willow,--softly sighing,

“ Poor Mary Anne !"

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Blythely hae I screw'd my pipes,

An' blythely play'd the lee-lang day.
But blyther been wi' bonnie Bess

Ayont the mow amang the strae.

When first I saw the bonnie face

O’ Bessie, blooming in her teens,
She wild awa this heart o' mine,
And ca’d it fu'o' corking preens.

Blythely, fic.

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