Aunt Ann, o' the wrang seyde o' fifty,

E'en thought him the flower o' the flockNay, to count yen by yen, aw his sweethearts, Wad tek a full hour by the clock.

O! but I was vext to hear tell on't,

When Nichol the tidings he brought,
That Stephen was geane for a soldier—
Our Jenny she gowl'd, ay, like ought:
Sin' that we've nae spwort efter supper,
We nowther get sang or a crack ;
Our lasses sit beytin their fingers,
Aw wishin for Stephen seafe back.

THE BASHFU' WOOER.
AIR : "Daintie Davie."

Whene'er ye come to woo me, Tom,
Dunnet at the window tap,

Or cough, or hem, or gie a clap,

To let my fadder hear, man;

He's auld and feal'd, and wants his sleep,
Sae by the hallan softly creep,

Ye need nae watch, and glowre, and peep,

I'll meet ye, niver fear, man:

If a lassie ye wad win,

Be cheerfu' iver, bashfu' niver ;

Ilka Jock may get a Jen,

If he hes sense to try, man.

Whene'er we at the market meet,
Dunnet luik like yen hawf daft,
Or talk about the cauld and heat,

As ye were weather wise, man ;

Haud up your head, and bauldly speak,
And keep the blushes frae your cheek,
For he whea hes his teale to seek,

We lasses aw despise, man:

I met ye leately, aw yer leane,

If a lassie, &c.

Ye seemed like yen stown frae the dead,

Yer teeth e'en chatter'd i' yer head,

But ne'er a word o' luive, man;

I spak, ye luik'd anudder way,
Then trimmel'd as ye'd got a flay,

And owre yer shou'der cried, "Guid day,"
Nor yence to win me struive, man :

If a lassie, &c.

My aunty left me threescwore pun,

But deil a yen of aw the men,
Till then, did bare-legg'd Elcy ken,

Or care a strae for me, man;
Now, tiggin at me suin and late,
They're cleekin but the yellow bait ;
Yet, mind me, Tom, I needn't wait,

When I hae choice o' three, man :
If a lassie, &c.

There lives a lad owre yonder muir,
He hes nae faut but yen-he's puir;
Whene'er we meet, wi' kisses sweet,

He's like to be my death, man;
And there's a lad ahint yon trees,
Wad weade for me abuin the knees;
Sae tell yer mind, or, if ye please,
Nae langer fash us baith, man:

January, 1803.

If a lassie, &c.

THE AUNTY.

We've roughness amang hands, we've kye i' the byre, Come live wi' us, lassie, it's aw I desire;

I'll lig i' the loft, and gie my bed to thee,

Nor sal ought else be wantin that guidness can gie: Sin' the last o' thy kin, thy peer aunty we've lost, Thou frets aw the day, and e'en luiks like a ghost.

I mind, when she sat i' the nuik at her wheel, How she'd tweyne the slow thread, and aye counsel us weel,

Then oft whisper me, "Thou wad mek a top wife; And pray God to see thee weel settl'd in life;" Then what brave funny teales she could tell the neet through,

And wad bless the peer fwok, if the stormy win' blew.

That time when we saunter'd owre leate at the town, 'Twas the day, I weel mind, when tou got thy chintz gown,

For the watters were up, and pick dark was the neet, And she lissen'd and cry'd, and thought aw wasn't

reet;

But, oh! when you met, what a luik did she give!—
I can niver forget her as lang as I live.

How I like thee, dear lassie, thou's oft heard me tell;
Nay, I like thee far better than I like mysel;
And when sorrow forsakes thee, to kurk we'll e'en

gang,

But tou munnet sit pinin' thy leane aw day lang;
Come owre the geate, lassie, my titty sal be
A companion to her that's aye dearest to me.

CROGLIN WATTY.

[AIR: "The lads o' Dunse."-In Cumberland, servants who are employed in husbandry are seldom engaged for a longer term than half a year. On the customary days of hiring, they proceed to the nearest town, and that their intentions might be known, stand in the market-place with a sprig or straw in their mouths. -SANDERSON.]

If you ax where I come frae, I say the fell-seyde, Where fadder and mudder, and honest fwok beyde; And my sweetheart, O bless her! she thought nin

like me,

For when we shuik hans, the tears gush'd frae her e'e:

Says I, "I mun e'en git a spot if I can,
But, whatever beteyde me, I'll think o' thee, Nan!"

Nan was a parfet beauty, wi' twea cheeks like codlin blossoms; the varra seet on her meade my mouth aw watter. "Fares-te-weel, Watty!" says she; "tou's a wag amang t' lasses, and I'll see thee nae mair!"--"Nay, dunnet gowl, Nan!" says I,

"For, mappen, ere lang, I's be maister mysel;" Sae we buss'd and I tuik a last luik at the fell,

On I whussel'd and wonder'd; my bundle I flung
Owre my shou❜der, when Cwoley he efter me sprung,
And howled, silly fellow ! and fawned at my fit,
As if to say-Watty, we munnet part yet!
At Carel I stuid wi' a strea i' my mouth,

And they tuik me, nae doubt, for a promisin youth.

The weyves com roun me in clusters: "What weage dus te ax, canny lad?" says yen.-"Wey, three pun and a crown; wunnet beate a hair o' my beard.' "What can te dui?" says anudder.-"Dui! wey I can plough, sow, mow, shear, thresh, deyke, milk, kurn, muck a byre, sing a psalm, mend car-gear, dance a whornpeype, nick a naig's tail, hunt a brock, or feight iver a yen o' my weight in aw Croglin parish."

An auld bearded hussy suin caw'd me her man— But that day, I may say't, aw my sorrows began.

Furst, Cwoley, peer fellow! they hang'd i' the street, And skinn'd, God forgie them! for shoon to their feet!

I cry'd, and they caw'd me peer hawf-witted clown, And banter'd and follow'd me aw up and down: