Ye Powers of the fky, will your bounty divine, Indulge a fond lover his boon;

Shall heart spring to heart, and Maria be mine, Alone by the light of the moon.

JENNY'S BAWBEE.

I MET four chaps yon birks amang,
Wi' hanging lugs and faces lang,
I fpeer'd at nei'bour Bauldy Strang,

What are they these we fee!

Quoth he," ilk cream-fac'd pawky chiel,
"Thinks himfell cunning as the deil,
"And here they cam', awa to steal;
Jenny's Bawbee."

The firft, a captain to his trade,

Wi' ill-lin'd fcull, and back weel clad,

March'd round the barn and by the shed,
And papped on his knee;

Quoth he, "My goddefs, nymph, and queen, "Your beauty's dazzl'd baith my een,"

But deil a beauty he had feen;

But Jenny's Bawbee.

A Norlan' laird neist trotted up,
Wi' baffen'd nag, and filler whup,
Cry'd," here's my beaft, lad had the grup,
"Or tie him to a tree;

"What's gow'd to me, I've wealth o' lan', "Beftow on ane o'worth your han","

He thought to pay what he was awn;
Wi' Jenny's Bawbee.

A Lawyer neift wi' blatherin' gab,

Wi' fpeeches wove like

ony web;

In ilk anes corn he took a dab,

And a' for a fee;

Accounts he owed thro' a' the town,'

And tradesmens tongues nae mair cou'd drown;
But now he thought to clout his gown,
Wi' Jenny's Bawbee.

Quite fpruce, juft frae the washing tubs,
A fool came neift, but life has rubs,
Foul were the roads, and fu' the dubs,
And fair befmear'd was he;

He danc'd up squinting thro' a glass,
And grinn'd, “I, faith a bonny lafs,"

66

He thought to win wi' front o' brass,

Jenny's Bawbee.

She baw'd the Laird gae

kaim his wig,

The Soldier not to ftrut fae big,

The Lawyer not to be a prig,

The fool he cry'd "tee-hee,

"I kend that I could never fail,"

But, fhe prinn'd the dish clout to his tail, And cool'd him wi' a water-pail,

And kept her Bawbee.

Then Johnny cam', a lad o' fenfe,
Altho' he had na mony pence,

He took young Jenny to the fpence,

Wi' her to crack a wee;

Now, Johnny was a clever chiel,
And here his fuit he prefs'd fae weel,
That Jenny's heart grew faft as jeel,

And the birl❜d her Bawbee.

FAIR ROSALE.

ON that lone bank where Lubin dy'd,

Fair Rofale, a wretched maid,
Sat weeping o'er the cruel tide,
Faithful to her Lubin's fhade.

O may fome kindsome gentle wave
Waft him to this mournful shore,
Thefe tender hands should make his grave,
And deck his corpfe with flowers o'er.

I'd ever watch his mould'ring clay,
And pray for his eternal reft,
When time his form has worn away,

His duft I'd place within my breast.

While thus fhe mourn'd her Lubin loft,
And echo to her grief repli'd,

Lo! at her feet, his corpfe was toft,

She fhriek'd! fhe clafp'd him! figh'd and dy'd.

GAFFER GRAY.

HO! why doft thou fhiver and thake,

Gaffer Gray;

And why doft thy nofe look fo blue!

'Tis the weather that's cold,

" 'Tis I'm grown very old, "And my doublet is not very new, "Well-a-day!"

Then, line thy worn doublet with ale, Gaffer Gray;

And warm thy old heart with a glass.

"Nay, but credit I've none,

"And my money's all gone,

"Then say how

may that come to pafs

66

Hie

Well-a-day!"

away to the house on the brow,
Gaffer Gray;

And knock at the jolly Priest's door.
"The Prieft often preaches

Against worldly riches;

"But ne'er gives a mite to the poor "Well-a-day!"

The Lawyer lives under the hill,
Gaffer Gray;

Warmly fenc'd both in back and in front. "He will faften his locks,

"And will threaten the stocks, "Should he ever more find me in want, "Well-a-day!"

The Squire has fat beeves and brown ale, Gaffer Gray;

And the feafon will welcome you there,