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But nought I've seen can e'er compare

Wi' the modest, gracefu' form o' Leezy.

I've seen tne hare trip o'er the dale,

The lamb upon the lee sae gaily ; But when young Leezy trips the vale,

For lively ease, she dings them fairly. Her een, the dew-draps o' the morn!

Hae gi’en my heart an unco heezy: It canna be, that pride or scorn

Can lodge within the breast o' Leezy.

I winna greet, I winna dee,

Though love has made me something reezy ; But mirth shall ne'er gang down wi' me

If aught befa' my bonny Leezy. When her and I to rest are gane,

May shepherds strew our graves wi' daisy ! And when o'er us they make their maen,

Aye join my name wi' bonny Leezy!,

NOW WELL MAY I.

TUNE-Jacky Latin.

Now well may I the haunts defy,

Where love unlicens'd reign'd 0;

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Where since is pall'd an conscience gall'd,

And Nature's laws profan'd, O:
In yonder wood, above the flood,

Conceal'd frae ilka eye, 0,
Forby the bat, an' unbeaming wain,

That slowly wheels on high, O.

Where blooms the brier, gie me my dear

In innocence to woo, O;
An' ilka care on earth I'll leave

This blessing to pursue, 0.
Though troubles rise and wars increase,

And discontents prevail, O,
We'll laugh and sing, and love our king,

Till strength and vigour fail, 0.

THE SHEEP SHEARING.

TUNE-Bung your Eye i' the Morning.

The morning was fair, and the firmament sheen;
The valley was fresh, and the mountain was green;
When bonny young Jean, of our maidens the

queen,
Went o'er the dale to the shearing.
Her form was so fair, it was rather divine;
The rose-leaf and lily her features entwine

Her lip was the clover-flower moisten'd with

wine ; Her manner was sweet and endearing. Her voice was the music, so tuneful and true ; Her hair was the sunbeam ; her eye was the dew, The mirror where Love did his image review,

And smile at the shadow so pleasing. The knight, who was there at the shearing the

ewes, Says, “Farmer, your daughter's a beautiful rose :" Then up to Miss Jeany he instantly goes,

And kiss'd her, and aye would be teasing. He led her and toy'd with her all the long day, And gave her a ring set with jewels so gay: “O! meet me my dear,” he would pressingly

say, “This night in the bower by the river." “I'll ask at my father," young Jeany replies ; “I fain would be with you; but if he denies''“Ah! pray do not tell him," said he, with sur.

prise,
“And I'll love you, my Jeany, for ever."

" But what, my dear Sir, are you wanting with

me? I'll never do aught but my father may see; He'll never refuse to intrust me with thee

From evening till dawn of the morning."

She cries— "My dear father, the knight and your

Jean This night are to meet in the woodland so green, To kiss and to prattle by mortal unseen,

From evening till dawn of the morning.”

The knight was abash'd and the farmer look'd

sour.

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“He mocks you, my jewel, go not to the bower." "Then, sir, I am sorry 'tis out of my power

To meet you this night by the river. I'll always be proud of your gay company, When my father permits I will wait upon thee." Then, light as a lamb, she skipp'd over the lee,

And left the poor knight in a fever,

I ne'er saw a creature so lovely and sly ; Confound me, if ever I saw such an eye! But every contrivance in life I will try

To catch her alone by the river.” But all was in vain, she evaded him still, Yet always receiv'd him with kindest good-will ! And now she's the lady of Merleton-hill,

An' lovely an' loving as ever.

HOW FOOLISH ARE MANKIND.

TUNE-The lone Vale.

How foolish are mankind, to look for perfection

In any poor changeling under the sun! By nature, or habit, or want of reflection,

To vices and folly we heedlessly run. The man who is modest and kind in his nature,

And open and cheerful in every degree: Who feels for the woes of his own fellow-creature,

Though subject to failings, is dear unto me.

Far dearer to me is the humble ewe-gowan,

The sweet native violet, or bud of the broom, Than fine foster'd flowers in the garden a-grow.

ing, Though sweet be their savour, and bonny their

bloom. Far dearer to me is the thrush or the linnet,

Than any fine bird from a far foreign tree; And dearer my lad, with his plaid and blue bonnet,

Than all our rich nobles or lords that I see.

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