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Let lords and fine folks, who for wealth take a bride,
Be married to day, and to-morrow be cloy'd ;
My body is stout, and my heart is as found,
And my love, like my courage, will never give ground.

I love Sue, &c.
Let ladies of fashion the best jointures wed,
And prudently take the best bidders to bed ;
Such figning and

sealing's no part of our bliss, We settle our hearts, and we feal with a kiss.

I love Sue, &c.
Tho' Ralph is not courtly, nor one of your beaus,

nor flutters, nor wears your fine clothes, In nothing he'll follow from folks of high life, Nor e'er turn his back on his friend or his wife.

I love Sue, &c. While thus I am able to work at my mill, While thus thou art kind, and thy tongue but lie's still, Our joys shall continue, and ever be new, And none be fo happy as Ralph and his Site.

I love Sue, &c.

Nor bounces,




AM a brisk young lively lase,

A little more than twenty,
And, by my comely air and dress,

I can have sweet-hearts plenty ;
But I'll beware of wedlock's snare,

dying fwainis adore me ;
The men I'll teaze myself to please,

My mother did fo before me.
In rich brocades, and diamonds brighty

gayest springs delighting,



My parts and humour shall unite

To make me more inviting :
For I'll advance, and learn to dance,

To please shall be my glory;
I'll learn to trace each step with grace,

My mother did so before me.

I'll dress as fine as fine can be,

My pride shall be my pleasure ;
And tho' the neighbours envy me,

To mind them I've no leisure.
I'll take delight, both day and night,

To be talk'd of in story;
I'll have it said, There shines a maid !

My mother did so before me.

To park and play I'll often go,

To spend each leisure hour;
I'll walk and talk with ev'ry beau,

And make them feel my pow'r.
But if a dart should pierce my heart,

From one that does adore me,
We'll wed and kiss, what harm in this?

My mother did so before me.

Then will I manage, when I wed,

My husband to perfection ;
For, as good wives have often said,

" Keep husbands in subjection." No snarling fool shall o'er me rule,

Or e'er eclipse my glory; I'll let him see I'll mistress be,

My mother did so before me.

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Y the side of a stream, at the foot of a hill,

I met with young Phebe who lives at the mill ; My heart leap'd with joy, at so pleasing a fight, For Phebe, I vow, is my only delight.


I told her


love and sat down by her side, And swore the next morning I'd make her my In anger she said, Get out of my light, And go

Phillis you met here last night.

to your

Surpriz’d, I reply'd, Pray explain what you mean, I never, I vow, with


Phillis was seen ; Nor can I conceive what my Phebe is at. 0! can't you? she cry'd : well, I love


for that.
Say, did not you meet her last night on this spot?
O Colin ! O Colin ! you can't have forgot ;
I heard the whole story this morning from Mat;
You still may deny it, I love you for that,

'Tis falfe, I reply'd, dear Phebe believe,
For Mat is a rover, and means to deceive :
well know he has ruin'd

young Pat, And sure


dear charmer must hate him for that.

Come, come then, she cry'd, if you mean to be kind, I'll own 'twas to know the true state of your mind. Transported, I kiss’d her, she gave me a pat; I made her my wife, and she loves me for that.

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OME haste to the wedding, ye friends and ye

The lovers their bliss can no longer delay :
Forget all your forrows, your cares, and your labours,
And let ev'ry heart beat with rapture to-day.
Ye votaries all attend to my call,

Comé revel in pleasures that never can cloy ;
Come fee rural felicity,
Which Love and Innocence ever enjoy.

Come fee, &c.

Let envy, let pride, let hate and ambition,

Still crowd to, and beat at the breast of the great ;
To such wretched paffions we give no admission,
But leave them alone to the wise ones of state.
We boast of no wealth but contentment and health,
In mirth and in friendship our moments employ,

Come see, &c.

With reason we taste of each heart-stirring pleasure ;

With reason we drink of the full-flowing bowl,
Are jocund and gay, but all within measure,
For fatal excess will enslave the free foul.
Then come at our bidding to this happy wedding,
No care shall obtrude here our bliss to annoy,

Come fee, &c.

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T the brow of a hill a fair shepherdess dwelt,
Who the


of ambition or love ne'er had felt, A few fober maxims still ran in her head, 'Twas better to earn e'er she ate her brown bread; That to rise with the lark was conducive to health; And to folk in a cottage contentment was wealth.

Young Roger that liv'd in the valley below,
Who at church and at market was reckon'd a beau,
Wou'd oftentimes try o'er her heart to prevail,
And would rest on his pitchfork to tell her his tale ;
With his winning behaviour he so wrought on her heart,
That, quite artless herself, she suspected no art.

He flatter'd, protested, he kneelid and implor'd ;
And would lie with the grandeur and air of a lord,
Her eyes he commended, with language well drest,
And enlarg’d on the tortures he felt in his breast ;
With his fighs and his tears he so soften'd her mind,
That, in downright compassion, to love the inclin'd.

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But as soon as he'd melted the ice of her breast,
The heat of his passion in a moment decreas’d;
And now he goes flaunting all over the vale,
And boasts of his conquefts to Susan and Nell:
Tho' he sees her but seldom he's always in haste,
And whenever he mentions her, makes her his jest.
Take heed, ye young maidens of Britain's gay

How ye venture your hearts for a look or a smile ;
For young Cupid is artful, and virgins are frail,
And you'll find a false Roger in every vale,
Who to court you, and tempt you, will try all their skill,
But remember the lass at the brow of the hill.

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Will ye gang to yon sunny brae,
Where flocks do feed, and herds do stray,

And sport a while wi' Jamie?
Ah na, lass, I'll no gang there,
Nor about Jamie tak’ nae care,
Nor about Jamie tak' nae caré,

For he's ta'en up wi' Maggy.

For hark, and I will tell you, lass,
Did I not see your Jamie pass,
Wi' muckle gladness in his face,

Out o’er the muir to Maggy.
I wat he


mony a kiss,
And Maggy took them ne'er amiss :
'Tween ilka smack pleas'd her wi' this,

That Bess was but a gawkie.

For when e'er a civil kifs I seek,
She turns her head, and thraws her cheek,


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