XIV. MUIRLAND WILLIE.

HEarken! and I will tell you how

Young Muirland Willie came here to woo,
Though he could neither fay nor do;
The truth I tell to you.
But ay he cries, whate'er betide,
Maggy, I'fe hae you to be my bride,
With a fal, dal, &e.

On his grey yad as he did ride,
With durk and piftol by his fide,
He prick'd her on wi' meikle pride,
Wi' meikle mirth and glee..
Out o'er yon mofs, out o'er yon muir,
Till he came to her dadie's door,
With a fal, &c.

Goodman, quoth he, be ye within,
I'm come your doghter's love to win,
I care na for making meikle din ;
What answer gi' ye me? -

Now, wooer, quoth he, wou'd ye light down,
I'll gie you my doghter's love to win,
With a fal, &c.

Now, wooer, fin ye are lighted down,
Where do ye win, or in what town?
I think my doghter winna gloom
On fic a lad as ye.

The wooer he ftep'd up the houfe,
And wou but he was wond'rous croufe!
With a fal, &c.

I have three owfen in a plough,
Twa good ga'en yads, and gear enough,
The place they call it Cadeneugh ;
I fcorn to tell a lie:

Befides, I had frae the great laird,
A peat-pat and a lang-kail yard,
With a fal, &c.

The maid put on her kirtle brown,
She was the braweft in a' the town

I wat on bim fhe did na gloom,
But blinket bonnilie.

The lover he ftended up in hafte,
And gript her hard about the waist,
With a fal, &c.

To win your love, maid, I'm come here,
I'm young, and hae enough o' gear;
And for myfel you need na fear,

Troth try me whan you like.

He took aff his bonnet, and fpat in his chew,
He dighted his gab, and he pri'd her mou',
With a fal, &c.

The maiden blufht, and bing'd fu' law,
She had na will to say him na,

But to her dadie fhe left it a',

As they twa cou'd agree.

The lover he gae her the tither kiss,
Syne ran to her dadie, and tell'd him this,
With a fal, &c.

Your doghter wadna fay me na,

But to yourfell she has left it a',
As we could agree between us twa;
Say, what'll ye gie me wi' her?

Now, wooer, quo' he, I hae na meikle,
But fic's I hae, ye's get a pickle,
With a fal, &c.

A kilnfu' of corn. I'll gie to thee,

Three foums of sheep, twa good milk ky;
Ye's hae the wadding dinner. free;

Troth, I dow do na mair.

Content, quoth he, a bargain be't.
I'm far frae hame, mak haite, let's do't.
With a fal, &c.

The bridle day it came to pafs,

Wi' mony a blythfome lad and lafs;
But ficken a day there never was,
Sic mirth was never feen.

This winfome couple ftriked hands,
Mefs John ty'd up the marriage-bands,
With a fal, &c.

And our bride's maidens were na few,
Wi tap-knots, lug-knots, a' in blue,
Frae tap to tae they were braw new,
And blinkit bonnilie,

Their toys and mutches were fae clean,
They glanced in our lads's een,
With a fal, &c.

Sic hirdum, dirdum, and fic din,
Wi' he o'er her, and fe o'er, him;
The minstrels they did never blin,
Wi' meikle mirth and glee,
And ay they bobit, and ay they beckt,
And ay their wames together met,
With a fal, &c.

XV. Clout the Caldron.

HAVE you any pots or pans,
Or any broken chandlers?

I am a tinker to my trade,

And newly come frae Flanders,,
As fcant of filler as of grace,
Difbanded, we've a bad run;
Gar tell the lady of the place,
I'm come to clout her caldron.
Fa adrie, didle, didle, &c.

Madam, if you have wark for me,

I'll do't to your contentment,

And dinna care a ingle flie

For any man's resentment; For, lady fair, though I appear To every ane a tinker,

Yet to yourfel I'm bauld to tell,

I am a gentle jinker.

Fa adrie, didle, didle, &c.

Love Jupiter into a swan

Turn'd, for his lovely Leda; He like a bull o'er meadows ran, To carry aff Europa;

Then may not I, as well as he,

To cheat your Argos blinker,
And win your love, like mighty Jove,
Thus hide me in a tinker?
Fa adrie, didle, didle, &c.

Sir, ye appear a cunning man,
But this fine plot you'll fail in,
For there is neither pot nor pan
Of mine you'll drive a nail in,
Then bind your budget on your back,
And nails up in your apron;
For I've a tinker under tack
That's us'd to clout my caldron..
Fa adrie, didle, didle, &c.

XVI. - If Love's a fweet Paffion..

IF love's a fweeet paffion, why does it torment ?
If a bitter, O tell me, whence comes my content??
Since I fuffer with pleafure, why fhould I complain,
Or grieve at my fate, fince I know 'tis in vain ?.
Yet fo pleafing the pain is, fo foft is the dart,
That at once it both wounds me, and tickles my
heart.

I grafp her hands gently, look languishing down, And, by paffionate filence, I make my love known, But oh how I'm bleft, when fo kind the does prove, By fome willing mistake to difcover her love;

When in ftriving to hide, the reveals all her flame,
And our eyes tell each other, what neither dare name.
How pleafing is beauty? How fweet are the
charms?

How delightful embraces.? How peaceful her arms?
Sure there's nothing fo eafy as learning to love;
'Tis taught us on earth, and by all things above;
And to beauty's bright ftandard all heroes muft yield,
For 'tis beauty that conquers, and keeps the fair field.

XVII. JOHN OCHILTREE.

HONEST man John Ochiltree;

Mine ain auld John Ochiltree,
Wilt thou come o'er the moor to me,
And dance as thou was wont to do.
·Alake, alake! I wont to do!
Obon, Ohon! I avont to do!
Now won't to do's away frae me,
Frae filly auld John Ochiltree.

Honest man John Ochiltree;

Mine ain auld John Ochiltree,
Come anes out c'er the moor to me,
And do but what thou dow to do,
Alake, alake! I dow to do!
Walaways! I dow to do!
To whoft and hirple o'er my tree,
My bonny moor powt is a' I may do.

Walaways John Ochiltree;

For muny a time I tell'd to thee,
Thou rade fae faft by fea and land,
And wadna keep a bridle hand;
Thou'd tine the beaft, thy fell wad die,
My filly auld John Ochiltree:

Come to my arms, my benny thing,
And chear me up to hear thee fing:

And tell me o'er a' we hae doen,

For thoughts maun now my life sustain.

Gae thy ways John Ochiltree;

Hae done, it has nae fa'r wi' me: I'll set the beaft in through the land, Ev'n fit thou here, and drink thy fill, For I'll do as I wont to do ftill.

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XVIII.

I'LL fing you a fong was never in print,

'Tis newly and truly come out of the mint,

And I'll tell you before hand, you'll find nothing in't. Tol tol, &c.