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7. Ho' for feven years and mair honour shou'd

(reave me, To fields where cannons rair, thou need na grieve (thee;

For deep in my spirit thy fweets are indented,
And love fhall preferve aye what love has imprinted.
Leave thee, leave thee, I'll never leave thee,
Gang the world as it will, dearest, believe me.

N. O Jonny I'm jealous, whene'er ye discover

My fentiments yielding, ye'll turn a loose rover;
And nought i'the warld wad vex my heart fairer,
If you prove unconftant, and fancy ane fairer:
Grieve me, grieve me, oh it wad grieve me,
A' the lang night and day, if you deceive me.

7. My Nelly, let never fic fancies oppress ye,

For while my blood's warm I'll kindly caress ye,
Your blooming faft beauties first leeted love's fire,
Your virtue and wit make it aye flame the hyer:
Leave thee, leave thee, I'll never leave thee,
Gang the world as it will, dearest, believe me.


N. Then Jonny, I frankly this minute allow ye
To think me your mistress, for love gars me trew
And gin ye prove fa'se, to ye'er fel it be faid then,
Ye'll win but sma' honour to wrang a kind maiden:



Reave me, reave me, heav'ns! it wad reave me
my reft night and day, if ye deceive me.

7. Bid icefhogles hammer red goads on the studdy,
And fair fimmer mornings nae mair appear ruddy;
Bid Britons think ae gate, and when they obey ye,
But never 'till that time, believe I'll betray ye:
Leave thee, leave thee, I'll never leave thee;
The ftarns fhall gang witherfhins e'er I deceive



OVE, thou airy vain illusion,
Sly deceiver of my joys,
All thy arts are but delufion,
Whilft vain hope my heart decoys.

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s tipling John was jogging on,
Upon the riot night;

With tottering pace, and fiery face,
Sufpicious of high flight:

The guards, who took John by his look,
For fome chief firebrand,

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Ask'd, whence he came, what was his name;
Who are you? stand, friend, stand.

I'm going home, from meeting come:
Ay, fays one, that's the cafe,

Some meeting he has burnt, you fec,
The flame's still in his face.

John thought 'twas time to purge the crime,
And faid, 'twas his intent

For to affuage his thirsty rage;

'Twas the meeting that he meant.

Come, friend, be plain, you trifle in vain,
Says one, pray let us know,

That we may find how you're inclin'd,
Are you high church, or low?

John faid to that, I'll tell you what,
To end debates and ftrife,
All I can fay, this is the way,
I fteer my course of life:




I ne'er to Bow, nor Burgefs go,
To fteeple-house, or hall;

The brisk bar bell beft fuits my zeal,
With, gentlemen, do ye call?

Now judge, am I low church, or high,
From the tavern or the fteeple,
Whofe merry toll exalts the foul,
And must make high-flown people.

The guards came on, and look'd at John
With countenance most pleasant;
By whisper round they all foon found,
He was no damage-feafant :

So, while John stood, the best he cou'd,
Expecting their decifion,

Damn him, says one, let him be gone,
He's of our own religion.

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The Dyer of Roan.

To the Tune of old SIMON the King.

IN good king Lewis's land,

In a city of high degree;
There lived a dyer grand,

And a very good dyer was he:
This dyer was married, forfooth,
And married in truth was he,
To a maid in the bloom of her youth;
And fhe gave him fome jealousy.

In vain had he fought to discover
What he little defir'd to fee,
Never dreaming his wife had a lover

Of monkey-fac'd monfieur l'Abbée ;
He thought of a politick way,

To bring all the matter to light, By his feigning a journey one day,

And by lying in ambush at night.

The horses were brought to the door,
And all figns of a journey appear,
Whilft his wife (that diffembling whore)
Was bedew'd in her crocodile-tears;

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