Youthfu' Mary's greatest wealth
Was ftill her faithfu' Johnny's heart;
Sweet the joys the lovers find,
Great the treafure, fweet the pleasure,
Where the heart is always kind,
Down the burn, &c.
HE fun juft glancing thro' the trees
Gave light and joy to ilka grove,
And pleasure in each fouthern breeze
Awaken'd hope and flumbring love';
When Jeany fung with hearty glee,
To charm her winfome marrow,
My bonny laddie gang wi' me,
We'll o'er the braes of Yarrow.
Young Sandy was the blytheft fwain
That ever pip'd on broomy brae;
No lafs cou'd ken him free frae pain,
So graceful, kind, fo fair and gay.
And Jeany fung, &c.
He kifs'd and lov'd the bonny maid,
Her fparkling e'en had won his heart,
No lafs the youth had e'er betray'd,
No fears had fhe, the lad no art.
And ftill fhe fung, &c.
eager hafte he hies him down
To tafte of rural joys.
Soon as my blithefome swain's in fight, My heart is mad with glee,
I never know fuch true delight
As when he comes to me.
How fweet with him all day to rove,
And range the meadows wide;
yet lefs fweet the moon light grove, All by the river's fide:
The gaudy feafons pass away,
How fwift when Colin's by!
How quickly glides the flow'ry May!
How faft the fummers fly!
When Colin comes to grace the plains
An humble crook he bears,
He tends the flock like other swains,
A fhepherd quite appears.
All in the verdant month of May,
A ruftic rake his pride,
He helps to make the new-mown hay
With Maggy by his fide.
'Gainst yellow autumn's milder reign
His fickle he prepares,
reaps the harvest on the plain, All pleas'd with rural cares:
With jocund dance the night is crown'd,
When all the toil is o'er,
With him I trip it on the ground,
With bonny fwains a score.
When winter's gloomy months prevail,
If Colin is but here,
His jovial laugh and merry tale
For me are muckle cheer.
The folks who chufe in towns to dwell Are from my envy free,
For Maggy loves the plains too well,
And Colin's all to me.
UR cares are all vanifh'd, our fears are all o'er,
The Devil and Fauftus fhall plague us no more,
Thus freed from his magic, our paftimes renew,
And ever, as now, give the Devil his due.
Our labours fhall profper and add to our ftores,
Since Fauftus is gone to pay
off his old fcores;
Who deals with the Devil fuch dealings must rue,
And (Doctor or Duke) give the Devil his due.
Now Ralph and his dame ev'ry vow shall fulfil, His mill fhall go round, and her clack fhall lie ftill,
Each lafs to her lad shall be loving and true,
Remembering ftill-give the Devil his due.
The heart once corrupted can know no delight,
For goodness and chearfulness ever unite ;
Whilft mifchief, once rooted, will mischief purfue,
And muft in the end-give the Devil his due.
LASS GIN YE LO'E ME TELL ME NOW.
Ha'e laid a herring in fa't,
Lafs gin ye lo'e me, tell me now,
I ha'e brew'd a forpet o' ma't,
An' I canna come ilka day to woo.
I ha'e a ca'f will foon be a cow,
Lafs gin ye lo'e me, tell me now,
I ha'e a pig will foon be a fow,
An' I canna come ilka day to woo.
I've a houfe on yonder muir,
Lafs gin ye lo'e me, tell me now,
Three fparrows may dance upon the floor,
And I canna come ilka day to woo.
I ha'e a butt, and I ha'e a ben,
Lafs gin ye lo’e me, tell me now,
I ha'e three chickens and a fat hen,
An' I canna come ony mair to woo.
I've a hen wi' a happity leg,
Lafs gin ye lo'e me, tak' me now,
Which ilka day lays me an egg,
And I canna come ilka day to woo.
I ha'e a kebbuck upon my shelf,
Lafs gin ye lo'e me, tak' me now,
I downa eat it a' myself,
And I winna come ony mair to woo.
ANSWER TO THE FOREGOING SONG.
W Laddie, I like to tell what's true;
HAT care I for your herring in fa't,
I carena a fig for your forpet o' ma't,
Sae ye needna come here that way to woo.
As little care I for your houfe i̇' the muir,
E'en that, my lad, winna bribe me now;
Tho' fifty fouk cou'd dance i' the floor,
Foul fa' me gin that wad bring me to.
Sae brag nae mair o' your butts and your bens,
Laddie, that's no the gate to woo;
Tho' ye had a hundred cocks and hens,
They never wad gar me tak' ye now :
As for your hen wi' the happity leg,
Laddie, ye're furely daft or fu'!
D'ye think that I can dine on ae egg ?
'Deed, friend, ye're makin' game o' me now.
Ye fay, ye've a pig that will foon be a fow,
Laddie, I like the truth to tell,
When ye brag o' your ca'f that will foon be a cow,
I'm fley'd that ye're but a ca'f yourfell:
Lad, gin I thought you in earnest now,
I wou'd tak' you to be but a greedy guts'd elf,
That wou'd come wi' fic offers a lafs to woo.
But, lad, gin ye want my heart to move,
Hark, and I'll learn you how to do;
Ye maun tauk o' naething but love for love,
For that's the gate a young lafs to woo:
For gin I cou'd think ye liket me weel,
Laddie, I tell you truly now,
I wou'd leave my daddy an' minny, atweel,
An' blythly, this night, gang aff wi' you.
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