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II.
Low in your wintry beds, ye flowers,

Again ye'll flourish fresh and fair ;
Ye birdies dumb, in with’ring bowers,

Again ye'll charm the vocal air. But here, alas ! for me nae mair,

Shall birdie charm, or floweret smile; Fareweel the bonnie banks of Ayr,

Fareweel, fareweel! sweet Ballochmyle!

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SONG XXXVI.

WILLIE BREW'D A PECK O: MAUT.

AIR.-THE HAPPY TOPERS.

I.
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 find in Christendie.

We are na fou, we're nae that fou

But just a drappie in our e'e ;
The cock may craw, the day may daw,

And ay we'll taste the barley bree.

II.
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!

We are na fou, 8c.

III.
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!

We are na fou, &c.

IV.
Wha first shall rise to gang awa,

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

We are na fou, &c.

* Willie, who “ brew'd a peck o' maut,” was Mr William Nicol; and Rob and Allan, were our poet, and his friend, Allan Cleghorn. These three honest fellows,all men of uncommon talents, are now all under the turf.

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