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WILL AND JEAN :

OWRE TRUE A TALE!

WHA was ance like Willie Gairlace,

Wha in neeboring town or farm ? Beauty's bloom shone in his fair face,

Deadly strength was in his arm !

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Warm his heart, and mild as manfu',

Wi' the bauld he bauld cou'd be ; But to friends wha had their handfu'

Purse and service aye ware free.

Whan he first saw Jeanie Miller,

Wha wi’ Jeanie cou'd compare :Thousands had mair braws and siller,

But ware ony hauf sae fair :

Saft her smile raise like May morning,

Glinting owre Demait's * brow: Sweet, wi' opening charms adorning

Strevlin's + lovely plain below!

Kind and gentle was her nature;

At ilk place she bare the bell ;
Sic a bloom, and shape, and stature!

But her look nae tongue can tell !

Sic was Jean, whan Will first mawing,

Spied her on a thraward beast; . Flew like fire, and just when fa’ing,

Kept her on his manly breast.

Light he bare her pale as ashes,

Cross the meadow, fragrant green ; Plac'd her on the new-mawn rashes,

Watching sad her opening een.

Sic was Will, whan poor Jean fainting

Drapt into a lover's arms; Waken’d to his saft lamenting ;

Sigh'd, and blush'd a thousand charms. Soon they loo'd, and soon ware buckld ;

* One of the Ochil Hills, near Stirling...-Gaelic, • Dun-ma-chit,' The hill of the good prospect.co-It pronounced . De.myit.'

+ The ancient name of Stirling.

Nane took time to think and rue.-Youth and worth and beauty cuppl'd;

Løve had never less to do,

Three short years flew by fu' canty,

Jean and Will thought them but ane ; Ilka day brought joy and plenty,

Ilka year a dainty wean.

Will wrought sair, but ay wi' pleasure ;

Jean the hail day span and sang ; Will and Weans her constant treasure,

Blest wi' them, nae day seem'd lang ;

Trig her house, and oh! to busk aye

Ilk sweet bairn was a' her pride! But at this time Neros and visky

Sprang nae up at ilk road-side.

Luckless was the lour whan Willie,

Hame returning frae the fair, Ow'r-took Tam, a neebor billie,

Sax miles frae their hame and mair:

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Labour rang wi’ laugh and clatter,

Canty hairst was just begun, And on mountain, tree, and water,

Glinted saft the setting sun.

Will and Tam, wi' hearts a' lowpin,

Mark'd the hale, but cou’dnae bide ; Far frae hame, nae time for stoppin;

Baith wish'd for their ain fireside.

On they travell’d, warm and drouthy,

Cracking owre the news in town; The mair they crack'd, the mair ilk youthy

Pray'd for drink to wash news down.

FORTUNE, wha but seldom listens

To poor Merit's modest pray'r, And on fools heaps needless blessins,

Hearken’d to our drowthy pair.

In a howm, wha's bonny burnie

Whimperin row'd its crystal flood, Near the road, wbar trav'llers turn aye,

Neat and bield a cot-house stood.

White the wa's, wi' roof new theekit,

Window-broads just painted red; Lown 'mang trees and braes it reekit,

Haflins seen and balins bid.

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