III.

My Nanie's charming, sweet an' young,
Nae artfu' wiles to win ye, O:
May ill befa' the flattering tongue
That wad beguile my Nanie, O.

IV.
Her face is fair, her heart is true,
As spotless as she's bonnie, O;
The op'ning gowan, wet wi' dew,
Nae purer is than Nanie, O.

V.

A country lad is my degree,

An' few there be that ken me, O;

But what care I how few they be,
I'm welcome ay to Nanie, O.

VI.

My riches a' 's my penny-fee,
An' I maun guide it cannie, O;
But warl's gear ne'er troubles me,
My thoughts are a', my Nanie, O.

VII.

Our auld guidman delights to view

His sheep an' kye thrive bonnie, O; But I'm as blythe that hauds his pleugh, An' has nae care but Nanie, O.

VIII.

Come weel, come woe, I care na by, I'll tak what heav'n will sen' me, O; Nae ither care in life have I,

But live, an' love my Nanie, O.

SONG IV.

GREEN GROW THE RASHES.

A

FRAGMENT.

CHORUS.

Green grow the rashes, O,
Green grow the rashes, O;

The sweetest hours that e'er I spent,
Are spent amang the lasses, O.

I.

THERE's nought but care on ev'ry han',
In ev'ry hour that passes, O:
What signifies the life o' man,
An' 't were na for the lasses, O?

Green grow, &c.

II.
The warly race may riches chase,

An' riches still may fly them, O;
An' tho' at last they catch them fast,
Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O.
Green grow, &c.

III.

But gie me a canny hour at e'en,
My arms about my dearie, O;
An' warly cares, an' warly men,
May a' gae tapsalteerie, O.

Green grow, &c.

IV.

For you sae douse, ye sneer at this,
Ye 're nought but senseless asses, O:
The wisest man the warl' e'er saw,

He dearly lov'd the lasses, O.

Green grow, &c.

V.

Auld nature swears, the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes, O:
Her prentice han' she try'd on man,
An' then she made the lasses, O.
Green grow, &c.

SONG V.

AGAIN REJOICING NATURE SEES.

AIR. JOHNNY'S GREY BREEKS.

I.

AGAIN rejoicing nature sees

Her robe assume its vernal hues,
Her leafy locks wave in the breeze
All freshly steep'd in morning dews.

CHORUS *.

And maun I still on Menie † doat,

And bear the scorn that 's in her e'e! For it's jet, jet black, an' it's like a hawk, An' it winna let a body be!

*This chorus is part of a song composed by a gentle. man in Edinburgh, a particular friend of the Author's.

+ Menie is the common abbreviation of Marian.