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BESS AND HER SPINNING WHEEL. O
LEEZE me on my spinning wheel, O leeze me on my rock and reel: Frae tap to táe that cleeds me bien, And haps me fiel and warm at e'en ! I'll set me down and sing and spin, While laigh descends the simmer sun, Blest wi' content, and milk, and mealO leeze me on my spinning wheel. On ilka hand the burnies trot, Ane meet below my theękit cot; The scented birk and hawthorn white Across the pool their arms unite. Alike to screen the birdie's nest : And little fishes caller rest : The sun blinks kindly in the biel,' Where blythe I turn my spinning wheel. On lofty aiks the cushats wail, And echo cons the dolefu' tale! The lintwbites in the hazel braes, Delighted, rival ither's lrys: The craik amang the claver hay, The paitrick whirrin o'er the ley, The swallow jinkin round my shiel, Amuse me at my spinning wheel. Wisma' to sell, and less to buy, Aboon distress, below envy, 0, wha wad leave this huinble state, For a' the pride of a' the great ? Amid their flairing idle toys, Amid their cumbrous dinsome joys, Cap they the peace and pleasure feel Of Bessy at her spinning wheel ?
THE GALLANT WEAVER.
He is a gallant weaver.
An' I gied it to the weaver.
An' give it to the weaver.
I'll love my gallant weaver. *
WILLIE BREW'DA PECK O' MALT.
An' Rob an' Allan cam' to see ;
Ye wad na find in Christendie.
We are na fou, we're wae that fou,
But just a drappie in our e'e ;
An' ay w'ell taste the barley brie.
Three merry boys I trow are we; And mony a night we've merry been, An'mony mair we hope to be!
We are na fou, &c. * In some editious Sailor is substituted for Weater.
It is the moon, I ken her horn,
That's blinkin in the left sae hie;
We are na fou, &c.
Wha first shall rise to gang awa,
A cuckold, coward loun is he!
We are na fou, &c.
OF A' THE ARTS THE WIN' CAN BLAW.
Of a' the arts the win’ can blaw,
I dearly like the west,
The lass that I lo'e best;
Wi’ mony a bill between,
Is ever with my Jean.
Sae lovely, sweet, an' fair,
Wi' music charm the air;
By fountain, shaw, or green,
But minds me of my Jean.
THE BANKS O’ DOON. .
How can ye bloom so fresh an' fair?
An' I sae weary, fu' o' care!
Thou'll break my heart thou warbling bird,
That wantons thro' the flow'ring thorn : Thou minds me o' departed joys,
Departed, never to return.
To see the rose and woodbine twine;
An' fondly sae did I o'mine.
Fu'sweet upon its thorny tree;
But, ab! ho left the thorn wi' me.
A MAN'S A MAN, FOR A' THAT. Is there for honest poverty,
Who hangs his head, and a' that ? The coward slave we pass him by,
And dare be poor for a' tbat; For a' that, an'a' that,
Our toils, obscure, an' a' that, The rank is but the guinea stamp,
The man's the gowd, for a' that. What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hodden grey, an' a' that ? Gie fools their silk, an' kuaves their wine,
A man's a man, for a' that;
Their tinsel shew, an'a' that;
Is chief o' men, for a' that.
Wha struts and stares, an'a' that, Tho' hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a cuif for a' that. For a' that, and a'that,
His ribband, star, and a' that ; A man of independent mind
Can look, and laugh at a' tbat.
The king can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, and a' that; An honest man's aboon his might,
Guid faith he manna fa' that!
His dignities, and a'that:
Are grandeur far than a' tbat.
As come it shall for a' that,
Shall bear the gree, and a' that;
It's comin yet, for a' that;
Shall brothers be, for a' that.
FOR THE SAKE O' SOMEBODY.
My heart is sair, I dare na tell,
My heart is sair for somebody;
Ob-hop! for somebody!
Oh-hey! for somebody!
O sweetly smile on somebody;
Oh-hon! for somebody!
Oh-hey! for somebody! I wad dowhat wad I not ? For the sake o' somebody!