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Corn rigs, an' barley rigs,
I'll ne'er forget that happy night,
.COMPOSED IN THE MONTH OF AUGUST.
NOW WESTLIN WINDS, &c.
AIR. I HAD A HORSE, &c.”
Now westlin winds, and slaught'ring guns
Now waving grain, wide o'er the plain,
Delights the weary farmer;
And the moon shines bright, when I rove at night,
To muse upon my charmer.
The partridge loves the fruitful fells;
The plover loves the mountains;
The woodcock haunts the lonely dells;
Thro' lofty groves the cushat roves
Thus ev'ry kind their pleasure find,
Some social join, and leagues combine;
Some solitary wander: Avaunt, away! the cruel sway,
Tyrannic man's dominion;
The sportsman's joy, the murd'ring cry,
The flutt'ring, gory pinion!
But Peggy dear, the ev'ning's clear,
We'll gently walk, and sweetly talk,
So dear can be as thou to me,
My fair, my lovely charmer.