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STAY, MY CHARMER.
TUNE-" An gille dubh ciar-dhubh."
STAY, my charmer, can you leave me?
Cruel, cruel to deceive me!
Well you know how much you grieve me ;
Cruel charmer, can you go'
Cruel charmer, can you go ?
By my love, so ill requited,
JOCKEY'S TA'EN THE PARTING KISS.
JOCKEY's ta'en the parting kiss,
Nought but griefs with me remain.
Gane is the Day.
When the shades of evening creep
Sweetly blithe his waukening be!
GANE IS THE DAY.
TUNE-"Gudewife, count the lawin."
["The chorus of this song is old."-Burns.]
GANE is the day, an' mirk's the night,
Then, gudewife, count the lawin,
There's wealth an' ease for gentlemen,
For ilka man that's drunk's a lord.
My coggie is a haly pool,
That heals the wounds o' care an' dool;
An' pleasure is a wanton trout,
ye drink but deep ye 'll find him out.
AS I WAS A-WANDERING.
TUNE-"Rinn meudial mo mhealladh."
[This is an old Highland air, and the title means "My love did deceive me." There is much feeling expressed in this song.]
As I was a-wand'ring ae midsimmer e'enin',
Amang them I spied my faithless fause lover, Which bled a' the wounds o' my dolour again.
Weel, since he has left me, my pleasure gae wi' him;
I may be distress'd, but I winna complain;
I flatter my fancy I may get anither,
My heart it shall never be broken for ane.
I couldna get sleeping till dawin' for greetin',
The Cure for all Care.
Although he has left me for greed o' the siller,
I dinna envy him the gains he can win;
THE CURE FOR ALL CARE.
TUNE-"Prepare, my dear brethren, to the tavern let's fly."
The peer I don't envy,-I give him his bow:
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;
I once was persuaded a venture to make,—
"Life's cares they are comforts"*- -a maxim laid down
By the bard, what d'ye call him, that wore the black
An', faith, I agree with th' old prig to a hair;
ADDED IN A MASON'S LODGE.
Then fill up a bumper, an' make it o'erflow,
AMANG THE TREES.
TUNE-"The King of France, he rade a race."
AMANG the trees where humming bees
Yo ungs Night Thoughts.