The sober autumn en ter'd mild,
When he grew wan and pale:
His bending joints and drooping head
Show'd he began to fail.

His colour sicken'd more and more,
He faded into age;

And then his enemies began

To show their deadly rage.

They've ta'en a weapon, long and sharp,
And cut him by the knee;
Then ty'd him fast upon a cart,
Like a rogue for forgerie.

They laid him down upon his back,
And cudgell'd him fuil sore;
They hang him up before the storm,
And turn'd him o'er and o'er.

They filled up a darksome pit,
With water to the brim,

They heaved in John Barleycorn,
There let him sink or swim.

They laid him out upon the floor,
To work him farther woe,
And still, as signs of life appear'd,
They toss'd him to and fro.

They wasted, o'er a scorching flame,
The marrow of his bones:

But a miller us'd him worst of all,

For he crush'd him 'tween two stones.
And they hae ta'en his very heart's blood,
And drank it round and round;

And still the more and more they drank,
Their joy did more abound.

John Barleycorn's a hero bold,
Of noble enterprize,

For if you do but taste his blood,

"Twill make your courage rise.

"Twill make a man forget his woe;
"Twill heighten all his joy:
"Twill make the widow's heart to sing,
Though the tear were in her eye.

H

Then let us toast John Barleycorn,
Each man a glass in hand:
And may his great posterity
Ne'er fail in old Scotland!

A FRAGMENT.

Tune, Gillicrankie.'

WHEN Guildford good our pilot stood,

And did our hellim thraw, man,

Ae night at tea, began a plea,
Within America, man:

Then up they gat the maskin-pat,
And in the sea did jaw, man;
An' did nae less, in full congress,
Than quite refuse our law, man.
Then thro' the lakes Montgomery takes,
I wat he was na slaw, man;
Down Lowrie's burn he took a turn,
And Carleton did ca', man:
But yet, what reck, he at Quebec,
Montgomery-like, did fa', man,
Wi' sword in hand, before his band,
Amang his en'mies a', man.

Poor Tammy Gage within a cage
Was kept at Boston ha', man;
Till Willie Howe took o'er the knowe
For Philadelphia, man;

Wi' sword an' gun he thought a sin

Guid christian blood to draw, man;
But at New York, wi' knife an' fork,
Sir-loin he hacked sma', man.

Burgoyne gaed up, like spur an' whip,
Till Fraser brave did fa', man;

Then lost his way, ae misty day,
In Saragota shaw, man.

Cornwallis fought as lang's he dought,

And did the buckskings claw, man;

But Clinton's glaive frae rust to save,
He hung it to the wa', man.

Then Montague, an' Guildford too,
Began to fear a fa', man;

And Sackville doure, wha stood the stoure,
The German chief to thraw, man:
For Paddy Burke, like ony Turk,
Nae mercy had at a', man;
An' Charlie Fox threw by the box,
An' lows'd his tinkler-jaw, man.
Then Rockingham took up the game,
Till death did on him ca', man;
When Shelburne meek held up his cheek,
Conform to gospel law, man;

Saint Stephen's boys, wi' jarring noise,
They did his measures thraw, man,

For North an' Fox united stocks,

An' bore him to the wa', man.

1

Then clubs an' hearts were Charlie's cartes,
He swept the stakes awa', man,
Till the diamond's ace, of Indian race,
Led him a sair faux pas, man:
The Saxon lads, wi' loud placads,
On Chatham's boy did ca', man;
An' Scotland drew her pipe, an' blew,
Up, Willie, waur them a', man'.
Behind the throne then Grenville's gone,
A secret word or twa, man:

While slee Dundas arous'd the class
Be-north the Roman wa', man:

An' Chatham's wraith, in heav'nly graith,

(Inspired bardies saw,

man)

Wi' kindling eyes cried,' Willie, rise!
Would I hae fear'd them a', man!'

But, word an' blow, North, Fox, and Co.
Gowff'd Willie like a ba', man,
Till Southron raise, and coost their claise
Behind him in a raw, man.

An' Caledon threw by the drone,
An' did her whittle draw, man:

An' swoor fu' rude, thro' dirt an' blood, To mak it guid in law, man.

IT

SONG.

Tune, Corn rigs are bonnie.'

was upon a Lammas night,
When corn rigs are bonnie,

Beneath the moon's unclouded light,
I held awa to Annie;

The time flew by w' tentless heed,
'Till 'tween the late an' early,
Wi' sma' persuasion she agreed
To see me thro' the barley.

The sky was blue, the wind was still,
The moon was shining clearly;
I set her down, wi' right good will,
Amang the rigs o' barley:

I ken't her heart was a' my ain;
I lov'd her most sincerely;
I kiss'd her owre and owre again
Amang the rigs o' barley.

I lock'd her in my fond embrace;
Her heart was beating rarely :
My blessings on that happy place,
Amang the rigs o' barley.

But by the moon and stars so bright,
That shone that hour so clearly,
She ay shall bless that happy night
A mang the rigs o' barley.

་་

I hae been blythe wi' comrades dear; I hae been merry drinking:

I hae been joyfu' gath'rin gear;

I hae been happy thinking:

But a' the pleasures e'er I saw,

Tho' three times doubl'd fairly,

That happy night was worth them a', Amang the rigs of barley.

CHORUS.

Corn rigs, an' barley rigs,

An' corn rigs are bonnie:
I'll ne'er forget that happy night,
Amang the rigs wi' Annie.

SONG,

COMPOSED IN AUGUST.

Tune, I had a horse, I had nae mair.'

Now westlin winds and slaughtering gua

Bring autumn's pleasant weather;
The moorcock springs, on whirring wings,
Amang the blooming heather:

Now waving grain, wide o'er the plain,
Delights the weary farmer;

And the moon shines bright, when I rove at night,
To muse upon my charmer.

The partridge loves the fruitful fells;
The plover loves the mountains ;
The woodcock haunts the lonely dells;
The soaring hern the fountains:
Thro' lofty groves the cushat roves
The path of man to shun it;
The hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush,
The spreading thorn the linnet.

Thus ev'ry kind their pleasure find,
The savage and the tender;
Some social join, and leagues combine;
Some solitary wander:

Avaunt, away! the cruel sway,

Tyrannic man's dominion;

The sportsman's joy, the murd'ring cry,
The flutt'ring gory pinion!

But Peggy dear, the ev'ning's clear,
Thick flies the skimming swallow;