O' sottish loons ye're the pink and pearl, pink and pear Ill-far'd, doited ne'er-do-weel.

Hech, gudewife! ye're a flyting body, flyting body: Will ye hae; but, guid be praised, the wit ye want. The puttin' cow should be aye a doddy, aye a doddy. Mak na sic an awsome reel.

Ye're a sow, auld man :
Ye get fou, auld man :
Fye for shame, auld man,

To

your wame, auld man:
Pinch'd I win, wi' spinnin' tow,

A plack to cleid your back and pow.
It's a lie, gudewife,

It's your tea, gude wife.
Na, na, gudewife,

Ye spend a', gudewife.
Dinna fa' on me pell mell,

Ye like the drap fu' weel yoursell.

Ye's rue, auld gowk, your jest and frolic, jest and frolic.
Dare ye say, goose, I ever liked to tak a drappy?
An 'twerena just to cure the cholic, cure the cholic,
Deil a drap wad weet my mou'.

Troth, gudewife, an' ye wadna swither, wadna swither,
Soon to tak a cholic, when it brings a drap o' cappy.
But twascore years we hae fought thegither, fought
thegither;

Time it is to gree, I trow.

I'm wrang, auld John:
Ower lang, auld John,
For nought, gude John,

We hae fought, gude John;

Let's help to bear ilk ither's weight,
We're far ower feckless now to fight.

Ye're richt, gude Kate;
The nicht, gude Kate,
Our cup, gude Kate,
We'll sup, gude Kate;
Thegither frae this hour we'll draw,
And toom the stoup atween us twa.

AGAIN REJOICING NATURE SEES.

BURNS.

TUNE-Johnnie's Grey Breeks.

AGAIN rejoicing nature sees
Her robe assume its vernal hues ;
Her leafy locks wave in the breeze,
All freshly steep'd in morning dews.

In vain to me the cowslips blaw;
In vain to me the vi'lets spring;
In vain to me, in glen or shaw,

The mavis and the lintwhite sing.

The merry ploughboy cheers his team;
Wi' joy the tentie seedman stauks;
But life to me's a weary dream,

A dream of ane that never wauks.

The wanton coot the water skims ;
Amang the reeds the ducklings cry;
The stately swan majestic swims;
And every thing is blest but I.

The shepherd steeks his faulding slaps,
And o'er the moorland whistles shrill;
Wi' wild, unequal, wandering step,
I meet him on the dewy hill.

And when the lark, 'tween light and dark,
Blithe waukens by the daisy's side,

B

And mounts and sings on fluttering wings,
A woe-worn ghaist, I hameward glide.

Come, Winter, with thine angry howl,
And raging bend the naked tree;
Thy gloom will soothe my cheerless soul,
When nature all is sad like me!*

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

A WEARY lot is thine, fair maid,
A weary lot is thine!

To pull the thorn thy brow to braid,
And press the rue for wine.
A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien,
A feather of the blue,

A doublet of the Lincoln green,—
No more of me you knew,
My love!

No more of me you knew.

This morn is merry June, I trow,
The rose is budding fain ;
But it shall bloom in winter snow,
Ere we two meet again.

He turn'd his charger as he spake,
Upon the river shore ;

He

gave

his bridle-reins a shake,

Said, Adieu for evermore,
My love!

And adieu for evermore.

In most editions of the author's works, this fine song is printed with the following absurd chorus, which was part of a song written by one of his friends:

And maun I still on Menie doat,

And bear the scorn that's in her ee?!
For it's jet-jet black, and it's like a hawk,
And winna let a bodie be.

FARE YE WEEL, MY AULD WIFE.

AND fare ye weel, my auld wife;

Sing bum, bee, berry, bum;
Fare ye weel, my auld wife;
Sing bum, bum, bum.

Fare ye weel, my auld wife,
The steerer up o' sturt and strife,
The maut 's abune the meal the nicht,
Wi' some, some, some.

And fare ye weel, my pike-staff;
Sing bum, bee, berry, bum:

Fare ye weel, my pike-staff;
Sing bum, bum, bum.

Fare ye weel, my pike-staff,

Wi'

you nae mair my wife I'll baff; The maut's abune the meal the nicht, Wi' some, smoe, some.*

O FOR ANE AND TWENTY, TAM.

BURNS.

TUNE-The Mowdiwart.

AND oh, for ane and twenty, Tam!
And hey for ane and twenty, Tam!

I'll learn my kin a rattlin' sang,

Gin I saw ane and twenty, Tam.

They snool me sair, and haud me down,
And gar me look like bluntie, Tam!
But three short years will soon wheel roun',
And then comes ane and twenty, Tam.

* From Lawrie and Symington's Collection, 1792.

A gleib o' lan', a claut o' gear,
Were left me by my auntie, Tam;
At kith and kin I needna speir,

Gin I saw ane and twenty, Tam.

They'll hae me wed a wealthy coof,
Though I mysell hae plenty, Tam;
But hear'st thou, laddie? there's my lufe,
I'm thine gin ane and twenty, Tam.

ALAS, MY SON, YOU LITTLE KNOW. MISS JENNY GRAHAM. *

TUNE-Bide ye yet.

ALAS, my son, you little know
The sorrows that from wedlock flow;
Farewell to every day of ease,

When you have gotten a wife to please.
Sae bide ye yet, and bide ye yet,
Ye little ken what's to betide ye yet;
The half of that will gane you yet,
If a wayward wife obtain you yet.

Your experience is but small,
As yet you've met with little thrall;
The black cow on your foot ne'er trod,
Which gars you sing alang the road.

Sometimes the rock, sometimes the reel,
Or some piece of the spinning wheel,
She will drive at you wi' guid-will;
And then she'll send you to the deil.

When I, like you, was young and free,
I valued not the proudest she;

*A maiden lady, who died at an advanced age, at Dumfries, towards the elose of the last century.