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Blithe morning lifts his rosy eye,
And evening's tears are tears of joy :
My soul, delightless, a' surveys,
While Willie's far frae Logan Braes.

Within yon milk-white hawthorn bush,
Amang her nestlings, sits the thrush;
Her faithfu' mate will share her toil,
Or wi' his song her cares beguile :
But I wi' my sweet nurslings here,
Nae mate to help, nae mate to cheer,
Pass widow'd nights and joyless days,
While Willie's far frae Logan Braes.

O wae upon you, men o' state,
That brethren rouse to deadly hate!
As ye mak mony a fond heart mourn,
Sae may it on your heads return!
How can your flinty hearts enjoy
The widow's tears, the orphan's cry?
But soon may peace bring happy days.
And Willie hame to Logan Braes!

I'LL AYE CA' IN BY YON TOWN.

I'LL aye ca' in by yon town,

And by yon garden green again:

I'll aye ca' in by yon town,

And see my bonnie Jean again.

There's nane sall ken, there's nane sall guess,
What brings me back the gate again,

But she, my fairest faithfu' lass,

And stownlins we sall meet again.

She'll wander by the aiken tree
When trystin-time draws near again;

And when her lovely form I see,
O haith, she's doubly dear again!

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I'LL KISS THEE YET.

I'LL kiss thee yet, yet,

And I'll kiss thee o'er again,
An' I'll kiss thee yet, yet,

My bonnie Peggy Alison!

Ilk care and fear, when thou art near,
I ever mair defy them, O;
Young Kings upon their hansel throne
Are no sae blest as I am, O!

When in my arms, wi' a' thy charms,
I clasp my countless treasure, O;
I seek nae mair o' Heaven to share,
Than sic a moment's pleasure, O!

And by thy een sae bonnie blue,

I swear I'm thine for ever, O; And on thy lips I seal my vow, And break it shall I never, O!

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A BOTTLE AND A FRIEND.

HERE'S a bottle and an honest friend!
What wad ye wish for mair, man?
Wha kens, before his life may end,
What his share may be o' care, man?
Then catch the moments as they fly,
And use them as ye ought, man:
Believe me, happiness is shy,

And comes not aye when sought, man.

WILLIE BREWED.

O WILLIE brew'd a peck o' maut,
And Rob and Allan cam to see;
Three blyther hearts, that lee-lang night,
Ye wad na found in Christendie.

We are na fou', we're no that fou,
But just a drappie in our ee;
The cock may craw, the day may daw,
And aye we'll taste the barley bree.

Here are we met, three merry boys,
Three merry boys, I trow, are we;
And mony a night we've merry been,
And mony mae we hope to be!

It is the moon, I ken her horn,

That's blinkin' in the lift sae hie; She shines sae bright to wyle us hame, But, by my sooth! she'll wait a wee.

Wha first shall rise to gang awa,

A cuckold, coward loun is he! Wha first beside his chair shall fa', He is the King among us three!

O GUID ALE COMES.

O GUID ale comes, and guid ale goes,
Guid ale gars me sell my hose,
Sell my hose, and pawn my shoon;
Guid 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;
Guid ale keeps the heart aboon.

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Guid ale hauds me bare and busy,
Gars me moop wi' the servant hizzie,
Stand i' the stool when I hae done;
Guid ale keeps the heart aboon.

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NO CHURCHMAN AM I.

No churchman am I for to rail and to write,
No statesman nor soldier to plot or to fight,
No sly man of business contriving a snare,
For a big-bellied bottle's the whole of my care.
The peer I don't envy, I give him his bow;
I scorn not the peasant, tho' ever so low;
But a club of good fellows, like those that are there,
And a bottle like this, are my glory and care.

Here passes the squire on his brother-his horse;
There centum per centum, the cit with his purse;
But see you the Crown how it waves in the air?
There a big-bellied bottle still eases my care.

The wife of my bosom, alas! she did die :
For sweet consolation to church I did fly;
I found that old Solomon proved it fair,
That the big-bellied bottle's a cure for all care.

I once was persuaded a venture to make;
A letter inform'd me that all was to wreck;

But the pursy old landlord just waddled up stairs
With a glorious bottle that ended my cares.

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'Life's cares they are comforts,' a maxim laid down By the bard, what d'ye call him? that wore the black gown; And, faith, I agree with th' old prig to a hair,

For a big-bellied bottle's a heav'n of a care.

(Added in a Mason Lodge).

Then fill up a bumper, and make it o'erflow,
And honours masonic prepare for to throw ;
May every true brother of the compass and square
Have a big-bellied bottle when harass'd with care.

COUNT THE LAWIN.

GANE is the day, and mirk's the night,
But we'll ne'er stray for faut o' light,
For ale and brandy's stars and moon,
And bluid-red wine's the risin' sun.

Then guidwife count the lawin, the lawin, the lawin.
Then guidwife count the lawin, and bring a coggie mair.

There's wealth and ease for gentlemen,

And semple-folk maun fecht and fen',
But here we're a' in ae accord,

For ilka man that's drunk's a lord.

My coggie is a haly pool,

That heals the wounds o' care and dool;
And pleasure is a wanton trout,

An' ye drink it a' ye'll find him out.

ΤΟ

DELUDED SWAIN.

DELUDED Swain, the pleasure
The fickle Fair can give thee,
Is but a fairy treasure,

Thy hopes will soon deceive thee.

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