My harry was a gallant gay, Fu’ stately strade he on the plain… But now he’s banish’d far away: I’ll never see him back again. Refrain:

My curse upon your venom’d stang, That shoots my tortur’d gums alang… And thro’ my lugs gies mony a twan… Wi’ gnawing vengeance; Tearing my nerves wi’ bitter pang,

Humid seal of soft affections, Tend’rest pledge of future bliss, Dearest tie of young connections, Love’s first snow—drop, virgin kis… Speaking silence, dumb confession,

There’s nane that’s blest of human… But the cheerful and the gay, man, Fal, la, la, &c. Here’s a bottle and an honest frie… What wad ye wish for mair, man?

But lately seen in gladsome green The woods rejoic’d the day, Thro’ gentle showers, the laughing… In double pride were gay: But now our joys are fled

I Hae a wife o’ my ain, I’ll partake wi’ naebody; I’ll tak Cuckold frae nane, I’ll gie Cuckold to naebody. I hae a penny to spend,

Bonie wee thing, cannie wee thing, Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine, I wad wear thee in my bosom, Lest my jewel it should tine. Wishfully I look and languish

Last May a braw wooer cam down th… And sair wi’ his love he did deave… I said there was naething I hated… The deuce gae wi ‘m to believe me,… The deuce gae wi ’m to believe me.

BLESS Jesus Christ, O Cardones… With grateful, lifted eyes, Who taught that not the soul alone… But body too shall rise; For had He said “the soul alone

Willie Wastle dwalls on Tweed, The spot they ca’ it Linkumdoddie… A creeshie wabster till his trade, Can steal a clue wi’ ony body: He has a wife that’s dour and din,

O lady Mary Ann looks o’er the C… She saw three bonie boys playing a… The youngest he was the flower ama… My bonie laddie’s young, but he’s… O father, O father, an ye think i…

Behold the hour, the boat arrive; Thou goest, the darling of my hear… Sever’d from thee, can I survive, But Fate has will’d and we must p… I’ll often greet the surging swell…

IN this strange land, this uncout… A land unknown to prose or rhyme; Where words ne’er cross’t the Mus… Nor limpit in poetic shackles: A land that Prose did never view…

EARTH’D up, here lies an imp o’… Planted by Satan’s dibble; Poor silly wretch, he’s damned him… To save the Lord the trouble.

Chorus.'€”MY lady’s gown, there’s… And gowden flowers sae rare upon’t… But Jenny’s jimps and jirkinet, My lord thinks meikle mair upon’t. My lord a-hunting he is gone,