Goodman I wate 'tis thirty Years,

Since we did ane anither ken;
And we have had between us twa,
Of Lads and bonny Laffes ten:
Now they are Women grown and Men,
I wish and pray well may they be
And if you prove a good Hufband,

E'en tak your auld Cloak about year... Bell, my Wife, fhe loves na Strife; But the wad guide me, if the can, And to maintain an easy Life,

I aft maun yield, tho' I'm Goodmang
Nought's to be won at Woman's Hand,
Unless ye give her a' the Plea;
Then I'll leave aff where I began,
And tak my auld Cloak about me.

SONG CCCXVIII. The Mill, Mill-Q.

B

Eneath a green Shade I fand a fair Maid,
Was fleeping found and ftill

O;
A' lowan wi' Love, my Fancy did rove
Around her with good Will

0:

Her Bofom I preft; but, funk in her Ret,
She ftirdna my Joys to fpill-0:

While kindly the flept, close to her I crept,
And kiss'd, and kiss'd her my fill

0,

Oblig'd by Command, in Flanders to land,
T'employ my Courage and Skill
Frae'er quietly I ftaw, hoift Sails and awa,
For Wind blew fair on the Bill -

O

Twa Years brought me hame, where loud frai fing Fame

Tald me with a Voice right thrill - 0, My Lafs, like a Fool, had mounted the Stools Nor kend who had done her the -0.

Mair fond of her Charms, with my Son in her Arms

I ferlying fpeer'd how the fell- 9,

P

Wi' the Tear in her Eye, quoth the, let me die, Sweet Sir, gin I can tell-O,

Love gave the Command, I took her by the Hand,
And bad a' her Fears expel―0,

And pae mair look wan, for I was the Man
Wha had done her the Deed my fell - O.

My bonny fweet Lafs on the gowany Grass,
Beneath the Shilling-Hill

O,

If I did Offence, I'fe make ye Amends
Before I leave Peggy's Mill-

O the Mill, Mill-0, and the Kill, Kill-0,
And the Cogging of the Wheel;

The Sack and the Sieve, a' that ye maun leave,
And round with a Sodger-reel·

0.

SONG CCCXIX. Cælia, .

C

ELIA, charming Calia, hear me,
Liften to a Lover's Vows

Smile thou lovely Nymph and chear me,
Let no Frown deform thy Brow,

Let no Frown deform thy Brow T
Tell me, is't a Crime to love you,
Whom the Gods have made fo fair?
Let my Sighs and Prayers move you,
And reward a Love fincere.

Tis not, 'tis not wild Defresh yes
But the fofteft Pains of Love,

Cherish then a noble Fire,

And the generous Flame improve, we

Lovely Calia,

adore you,
Kindly eafe a Lover's SmartCARE SE
I ne'er lov'd a Maid before you, ofer
You alone poffefs my Heart.
Think, my Dear, how frail is Beauty,
Think how long your Charms can last;

To employ them is your Duty,
Time is ne'er recall'd when paft.

SONG CCCXX. The auld Goodman.

L

Ate in the Evening forth I went,

A little before the Sun gade down,

And there I chanc'd by Accident,

To light on a Battle new begun.

A Man and his Wife were fawn in a Strife,
I canna well tell ye how it began;
But ay the wail'd her wretched Life,

And cry'd ever, alake my auld Goodman.
He. The auld Goodman that thou tells of,
The Country keris where he was born,
Was but a filly poor Vagabond,

And ilka a ane leugh him to fcorn; For he did fpend, and make an End

Of Gear that his Fore-fathers wan, He gart the Poor ftand frae the Door,

Sae tell nae mair of thy auld Goodman. She. My Heart alake, is liken to break When I think on my winfome John, His blinkan Eye and Gate fae free,

Was naithing like thee, thou dofend Drone. His rofie Face and flaxen Hair,

And a Skin as white as ony Swan,

Was large and tall, and comely withall,

And thou❜lt never be like my auld Goodman, He. Why doft thou pleen? I thee maintain, For Meal and Mawt thou difna want ;, But thy wild Bees I canna please,

Now when our Gear gins to grow fcant. Of Houfhold-ftuff thou haft enough, Thou wants for neither Pot nor Pan; Of fic like Ware he left thee bare,

Sae tell nae mair of thy auld Goodman. She. Yes I may tell, and fret my fell, To think on these blyth Days I had, When he and I together lay

In Arms into a well-made Bed,

But now I figh, and may be sad,

Thy Courage is cauld, thy Colour wan, Thou falds thy Feet, and fa's asleep,

And thou'lt ne'er be like my auld Goodman. Then coming was the Night fae dark, And gane was a' the Light of Day; The Carle was fear'd to mifs his Mark, And therefore wad nae langer ftay. Then up he gat, and he ran his Way, I trow the Wife the Day fhe wan, And ay the O'erword of the Fray Was ever, alake my auld Goodman.

SONG CCCXXI, Lafs with a Lump of Land.

I'E me a Lafs with a Lump of Land,

G And we for Life fhall gang the gither,

Tho' daft or wife, I'll never demand,
Or black or fair it makfna whether.
I'm aff with Wit, and Beauty will fade,
And Blood alone is no worth a Shilling,
But the that's rich, her Market's made,
For ilka Charm about her is killing.
Gi'e me a Lafs with a Lump of Land,
And in my Bofom I'll hug my Treafure
Gin I had anes her Gear in my Hand,
Should Love turn dowf, it will find Pleasure.
Laugh on wha likes, but there's my Hand,

I hate with Poortith, tho' bonny, to meddle, Unless they bring Cafh, or a Lump of Land, They 'fe never get me to dance to their Fiddle. There's meikle good Love in Bands and Bags, And Siller and Gowd's a fweet Complexion; But Beauty and Wit, and Virtue in Rags,

Have tint the Art of gaining Affection: Love tips his Arrows with Woods and Parks, And Caftles and Riggs, and Muirs and Mea dows,

And naithing can catch our modern Sparks,
But well-tocher'd Laffes of jointer'd Widows.

SONG CCCXXII. The young
Lafs contra auld Man.

T

HE Carle he came o'er the Croft,
And his Beard new fhaven,

He look'd at me, as he'd been daft,
The Carle trows that I wad hae him.
Howt away, I winna hae him!
Na forfooth, I winna hae him!
For a his Beard new fhaven,
Ne'er a Bit will I hae him.
A Siller Broach he gae me nieft,
To faften on my Curtchea nooked,
I wor'd a wi upon my Breaft;

But foon alake! the Tongue o't crooked;
And fae may his: I winna hae him,
Na forfooth, I winna hae him!
An twice a Bairn's, a Lafs's Jeft;
Sae ony Fool for me may hae him.
The Carle has nae Fault but ane,
For he has Land and Dollars plenty;
But waes me for him! Skin and Bane
Is no for a plump Lafs of twenty.
Howt awa, I winna hae him,
Na forfooth, I winna hae him,
What fignifies his dirty Riggs,

And Cafh, without a Man with them?
But fhould my canker'd Dady gar

Me take him 'gainft my Inclination, I warn the Fumbler to beware,

That Antlers dinna claim their Station.

Howt awa, I winna hae him!

Na forfooth, I winna hae him!

I'm flee'd to crack the haly Band,

Sae Lawty fays, I fhould na hae him.