But first on Sawnie gies a ca', An' she cried, L-d, preserve her! XXIII. They hoy't out Will, wi' sair advice: For some black, grousome carlin; XXIV. A wanton widow Leezie was, As canty as a kittlen; But och! that night, amang the shaws, She got a fearfu' settlin! She thro' the whins, an' by the cairn, An' owre the hill gaed scrievin, Whare three lairds' lands met at a burn,f * Take an opportunity of going, unnoticed, to a bear-stack, and fatk om it three times round. The last fathom of the last time, you will catch in your arms the appearance of your future conjugal yoke-fellow. † You go out, one or more, for this is a social spell, to a south-running spring or rivulet, where "three lairds' lands meet," and dip your left shirt sleeve. Go to bed in sight of a fire, and hang your wet sleeve before it to dry. Lie awake; and, sometime near midnight, an apparition, having the exact figure of the grand object in question, will come and turn the sleeve, as if to dry the other side of it. To dip her left sark-sleeve in, XXV. Whyles o'er a linn the burnie plays, Unseen that night. XXVI.. Amang the brackens, on the brae, Poor Leezie's heart maist lap the hool; But mist a fit, an' in the pool, Out owre the lugs she plumpit, Wi' a plunge that night. XXVII. In order, on the clean hearth-stane, Take three dishes; put clean water in one, foul water in another; leave the third empty. Blindfold a person, and lead him to the hearth where the dishes are ranged; he (or she) dips the left hand : if by chance in the clean water, the future husband or wife will come to the bar of matrimony a maid; if in the foul, a widow; if in the empty dish, it foretells, with equal certainty, no marriage at all. It is repeated three times, and every time the arrangement of the dishes is altered An' ev'ry time great care is taen, Auld uncle John, wha wedlock's joys, Because he gat the toom dish thrice, In wrath that night. XXVIII. Wi' merry sangs, an' friendly cracks, Their sports were cheap an' cheery. They parted aff careerin, Fu' blythe that night. THE JOLLY BEGGARS. A CANTATA. RECITATIVO. WHEN lyart leaves bestrow the yird, When hail-stanes drive wi' bitter skyte, * Sowins, with butter instead of milk to them, is always the Hallow een supper. ↑ The old Scotch name for the Bat. And infant frosts begin to bite, First niest the fire, in auld red rags, Just like an a'mous dish. Ilk smack still did crack still, I Am a son of Mars, who have been in many wars And show my cuts and scars wherever I come This here was for a wench, and that other in a trench, When welcoming the French at the sound of the drum. Lal de daudle, &c. My 'prenticeship I past where my leader breath'd his last, When the bloody die was cast on the heights of Abram; I serv'd out my trade when the gallant game was play'd, And the Moro low was laid at the sound of the drum, Lal de daudle, &c. III. I lastly was with Curtis, among the floating batt❜ries, IV. And now, though I must beg, with a wooden arm and leg, And many a tatter'd rag hanging over my bum, I'm as happy with my wallet, my bottle, and my callet, As when I us'd in scarlet to follow a drum. Lal de daudle, &c V. What tho' with hoary locks, I must stand the winter shocks, Beneath the woods and rocks oftentimes for a home, |