The Cure for all Care.

2II

Although he has left me for greed o' the siller,

I dinna envy him the gains he can win; I rather wad bear a' the lade o' my sorrow

Than ever ha'e acted sae faithless to him.

0

THE CURE FOR ALL CARE.

TUNE-"Prepare, my dear brethren, to the tavern let's fly.”

No churchman am I, for to rail and to write,
No statesman or soldier, to plot or to fight,
No sly man of business contriving a snare-
For a big-bellied bottle's the whole of my care.

The peer I don't envy,—I give him his bow :
I scorn not the peasant, tho' ever so low:
But a club of good fellows, like those that are here,
And a bottle like this, are my glory and care.

a

Here passes the squire on his brother—his horse: There centum per centum, the cit with his purse; But see you The Crown, how it waves in the air ! There a big-bellied bottle still eases my care.

The wife of my bosom, alas! she did die;
For sweet consolation to church I did fly;
I found that old Solomon proved it fair,
That a big-bellied bottle's a cure for all care.

I once was persuaded a venture to make,–
A letter inform’d me that all was to wreck;
But the pursy old landlord just waddled up stairs,
With a glorious bottle that ended my cares.

“ Life's cares they are comforts”* -a maxim laid

down By the bard, what d'ye call him, that wore the black

gown; An', faith, I agree with th' old prig to a hair ; For a big-bellied bottle 's a heav'n of care.

ADDED IN A MASON'S LODGE. hen fill up a bumper, an' make it o'erflow, An' honours masonic prepare for to throw; May every true brother of the compass an’ square Have a big-bellied bottle when harass'd with care!

AMANG THE TREES.

Tune-"The King of France, he rade a race.”

AMANG the trees where humming bees

At buds an’ flowers were hinging, O,
Auld Caledon drew out her drone,

An' to her pipe was singing, 0;

Yo ungs Night Thoughts.

It is na, Jean, thy bonnie Face.

213

'Twas pibroch, sang, strathspey, or reels,

She dirl'd them aff fu' clearly, O;
When there cam' a yell o’ foreign squeels,

That dang her tapsalteerie, O.

Their capon craws had queer ha, ha's!

They made our lugs grow eerie, O;
The hungry bike did scrape an' pike

Till we were wae an’ weary, O.
But a royal ghaist wha ance was cas'd,

A prisoner aughteen year awa',
He fir'd a fiddler in the north,

That dang them tapsalteerie, ().

a

IT IS NA, JEAN, THY BONNIE FACE.

TUNE—“The maid's complaint.”

It is na, Jean, thy bonnie face

Nor shape that I admire,
Altho' thy beauty and thy grace

Might weel awake desire.
Something, in ilka part o' thee,

To praise, to love, I find;
But dear as is thy form to me,

Still dearer is thy mind.

Nae mair ungen'rous wish I ha'e,

Nor stronger in my breast, Than if I canna mak’ thee sae,

At least to see thee blest. Content am I, if Heaven shall give

But happiness to thee;
And as wi’ thee I'd wish to live,

For thee I'd bear to die.

BONNIE PEGGY ALISON.

Tune-"

-“Braes o’ Balquhidder.”

CHORUS

I'll kiss thee yet, yet,

And I'll kiss thee owre again :
An' I'll kiss thee yet, yet,

My bonnie Peggy Alison !

Ilk care an' fear, when thou art near,

I ever mair defy them, 0; Young kings upon their hansel throne

Are no sae blest as I am, O!

When in my arms, wi' a'thy charms,

I clasp my countless treasure, 0; I seek nae mair o'heaven to share

Than sic a moment's pleasure, O!

An' by thy een sae bonnie blue,

I swear I'm thine for ever, 0!-
An' on thy lips I seal my vow,

An' break it shall I never, O!

0

SAE FAR AWA'.

TUNE—“Dalkeith Maiden Bridge."

Oh, sad and heavy should I part,

But for her sake sae far awa'; Unknowing what my way may thwart,

My native land sae far awa'. Thou that of a' things Maker art,

That form'd this fair sae far awa’; Gi’e body strength, then I'll ne'er start

At this my way sae far awa?

How true is love to pure desert,

So love to her, sae far awa':
An' nocht can heal my bosom's smart

While, oh! she is sae far awa'.
Nane other love, nane other dart,

I feel but hers, sae far awa'; But fairer never touch'd a heart

Than hers, the fair sae far awa'.

a