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THE GLEN COLLECTION
OF SCOTTISH MUSIC
Presented by Lady Dorothea Ruggles-
Brise to the National Library ol Scotland,
in memory of her brother. Major Lord
George Stewart Murray, Black Watch,
killed in action in France in 1914.
28th Jammrij 1927.
1
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Digitized by tine Internet Arcliive
in 2011 witli funding from
National Library of Scotland
http://www.archive.org/details/edinburghsyrenorOOrugg
EDINBURGH SYRENi
OR,
- MUSICAL BOU^UET^
BEING A
MEW SELECTION OF MODERN SONGS^
SUNG AT THE
VARIOUS PLACES OF AMUSEMENT
IN
GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND.
EDINBURGH:
rS.I^"TEt) FOR THOMAS BROWN, BOOKSELLER^
NO I* NORTH BRIDGE STREET.
MDCCXCJI,
^ OF
TO THE PUBLIC.
The firfl: impreffion of this little volume
having met with fuch a favourable re»»
ception, has induced the Publilher to
iilue another Edition, in which is inferted
a number of new Songs not to be ha4
in any other fmall Colledion extant, an4
which, he hopes, will be found fuited to
every one's tafte, if we except thofe that
would in any degree tend to put the
cheek of modefty to the blulh : And the
Publifher, confcious of at leail endea^
A 2 vourin^
( 4 )
vouiing to " Cull the Cholcejl^^ now
fends it forth, with a view to promote
the harmony and happinefs of thofe who
make Vocal Mufic a part of their Amufe-
ment«
THE
THE
SYREN:
OR,
MUSICAL BOU^UEf.
Poor Jack,
G<
O patter to lubbers and fwabs d'ye fee,
'Bout danger, and fear, and the like ;
A tight water boat, and good fea-room give me^
And t'ent to a little I'll ftrike :
Tho* the tempeft top-gallant-mafts fmack fmooth
fhould fmite,
And fliiver each fplinter of wood,
Clear the wreck, flow the yards, and boufe every
thing tight.
And under reePd forefail we'll feud :
Avaft, nor don't think me a milk-fop io foft
To be taken for trifles aback,
For they fay there's a Providence fits up aloft.
To keep watch for the life of Poor Jack.
Why I heard the good chaplain palaver one day
About fouls, heaven, mercy, and fuch.
And, my timbers, what lingo he'd coil and belay,
Why 'twas juft all as one as high Dutch .'
A3
O THE EDINBURGH SYREN I
But he faid how a fparrow can't founder, d'ye fee,
Without orders that comes down below,
And many fine things that prov'd clearly to me
That Providence takes us in tow ;
For fays he, do you mind me, let ftorms e'er fo oft
Take the top fails of failors aback,
There's a fweet little cherub that fits up aloft,
To keep watch for the life of Poor Jack.
I-faid to our Poll, for you fee (he would cry.
When laft we weighed anchor for fea,
V/hat argufies fnivling and piping your eye ?
Why v/hat a damn'd fool you muft be :
Can't you fee the world's wide, and thei'e's room
for us all,
Both for feamen and lubbers aihore ;
And if to old Da^'y I fnould go friend Poll,
Why you never will hear of me more :
What then, ail's a hazard, come don't he fo foft,
Perhaps I may laughing come back.
For d'ye fee there's a cherub fits fmiling aloft.
To keep watch for the life of Poor Jack.
D'ye mind me, a failor fliould be every inch
AH as one as a piece of a Ihip,
And with her brave the world, without offering to
flinch,
From the moment the anchor's a trip :
As for ms,in all weathers, all times, fides, and ends.
Noughts a trouble from duty that fprings.
For my heart is my Poll's, and my rhino my friend's^
And as for my life 'tis the king's ;
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET,
Even when my time's come ne'er believe m.e fo foft
As with grief to be taken aback,
That fame little cherub that fits up aloft,
Will look out a good birth for Poor Jack,
The Tear that hedeavs SenfihiHty*s Shrine.
Tho' Bacchus may boaft of his care killing bowl.
And folly in thought drowning revels delight 5
Such worfhip alas ! hath no charms for the foul.
When fofter devotions the fenfes Invite :
When fofter devotions the fenfes invite.
To the arrow of f^ite, or the canker of care,
His potions oblivious a balm may beftow,
But to fancy that feeds on the charms of the fair^
The death of reflexion's the birth of all woe.
The death, &c.
What foul that's poffefl of a dream fo divine.
With riot would bid the fweet vifion begone^
For the tear that bedews fenfibillty's fhrlne,
Is a drop of more wordi than all Bacchus's tun,.
Is a drop, &c.
Yhe tender excefs which enamours the hearty
To few is imparted, to millions deny'd,
8 THE EDINBURGH SYREN ;
'TIs the brain of the viftim that tempers the dartj
And fools jeft at that for which fages have dy'd.
And fools, &c.
Each change and exceft hath thro' life been my
doom,
And well can I fpeak of its joy and its ftrife j
The bottle affords us a glimpfe thro' the gloom,
But love's the true funlhine that gladdens our
life.
But love's, 8cc.
Come then, rofy Venus, and fpread oe'r my fight^
The magic illufions that ravilh the foul,
Awake in my breaft the foft dream of delight.
And drop from thy myrtle one leaf in my bowl.
And drop, &c.
Then deep will I drink of the ne6lai divine,
Nor e'er jolly god from the banquet remove.
But each tube of my heart ever thirft for the wine.
That's mellow'd by friendfhip, and fweeten'd
by love.
That's mellow'd, &c.
^ The Maid that tends the Goats
Up amang yon cliffy rocks.
Sweetly rings the rifmg echo,
To the maid that tends the goats^j,
lilting o'er her native notes.
©R, MUSICAL BOUQUET.
Hark, ilie fmgs, " young Sandy's kind,
" An* he's promis'd ay to lo'e me»
" Here's a brotch I ne'er fhall tine,
" Till he's fairly marri'd to me ;
*' Drive away, ye drone time,
*' An' bring about our bridal day.
*' Sandy herds a flock o' fheep,
^' Af'en does he blaw the whiiHe,
" In a ftrain fae faftly fweet,
*' Lam'mies lift'ning dare nae bleat ;
*' He's as fleet's the mountain roe,
*' Hardy as the Highland heather,
" Wading thro' the winter fnow,
*♦ Keeping ay his flock together :
*' But a plaid, va' bare houghs,
" He braves the bleakefl norlin blaft.
" Brawly he can dance and fmg
*' Canty glee, or Highland cronach ;
" Nane can ever match his fling
*' At a reel, or round a ring ;
" Wighliy can he wield a rung,
** In a brawl he's ay the bangfter,
" A' his praife can ne'er be fung
" By the langeft winded fangfter
" Sangs that fmg o' Sandy,
^^ Come Ihort, tho' they were e'er fae lang.
iq> THE EDINBURGH SYREN 5
How StURet the Love,
Whek firft I icen'd young Sandy's face?
He fung and look'd wi' lie a grace,
He fung and look'd wi' fic a grace.
He ftole my heart but did na care.
The lad he loo'd a lafs more fair.
And oft I fung o'er brae and bum
How fweet the love that meets return;
He Joo'd a lafs wi' fickle mind.
Was fometimes cauld and fometimes kind,
Which made the love fick laddie rue.
For Ihe was cauld when he was true ;
He mourn'd and fung o'er brae and burn|
How fweet the love that meets return.
One day a pretty wreath he twin'd,
Where li'lacks with fv/eet cowflips join'dg
To make a garland for her hair.
But fhe refus'd a gift fo fair.
This fcorn, he cry'd, can ne'er be bornej
But fweet the love that meets return.
Juft then he met my tell tale e'en.
And love fo true is fooneft feen.
Dear lals, faid he, my heart is thine,
For thy ioft wilhes are like mine,
Now Je» ny m her turn may mourn.
How fweet tne love that meets returo.
PR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. It
My anfwer was both frank and kind,
I loo'd the lad and tell'd my mind.
To kirk we went wi' hearty glee.
And wha fa bleft as he and me ;
Now blithe we ling o'er brae and burn,
Jiow fweet the love that meets return.
When the Fancy Jlir.ring BowL
When the fancy-ftirring bowl
Wakes its world of pleafure.
Glowing vifions gild my foul.
And life'*) an endlefs treafure ;
Mem'ry decks my wafted heart,
Frefh with gay defires,
Rays divine my fenfes dart.
And kindling hope infpires.
Then who'd be grave.
When wine can fave
The heavieft foul from linking ;
And magic grapes.
Give angel Ihapes
To ev'ry girl we're drinking.
Here fweet benignity and love
Shed their influence round me,
Gather'd ills of life remove,
And leave me as they found mfe,
Tho' my head may fwim, yet true
Still to nature's feeling i
12 THE EDINBURGH syren;
Peace and beauty fwim there too,
And rock me as I'm reeling.
Then who'd be grave, &c.
On youth's foft pillow tender truth
Her penfive leflbn taught me,
Age foon mock'd the dream of youth,
And wifdom ^\'akM and caught me,
A bargain then with love I knock'd
To hold the pleafmg gipfey,
Then wife to keep my bofom locked.
But turn the key when tipfey.
Then who'd be grave, &c.
When time afluagM my heated heart,
The grey-beard blind and fimple.
Forgot to cool one little part
Juft fluih'd by Lucy's dimple.
That part's enough of beauty's type
To warm an honeft fellow ;
And though it touch me not when ripe,
It melts ftill while I'm mellow.
Then v/ho'd be grave, 3cc,
Pd rather be excused*
Returning from the fair one eve,
Acrofs yon verdant plain,
Young Harry fayid he'd fee me home ;
A tight, a comely fwain. f
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. I3
He begg*d I would a fairing take,
And would not be refus'd ;
Then afk'd a kifs, I blufhM and cryM,
Vd rather be excus'd.
You're coy, faid he, my pretty maid,
I mean no harm I fwear ;
Long time I have in fecret figh'd
For you, my charming fair :
But If my tendernefs offend.
And if my love's refus'd,
I'll leave you — what, alone ? cry'd I,
I'd rather be excus'd.
He prefs'd my hand, and on we walk'dj
He warmly urg'd his fuit ;
But ftill to all he faid I was
Moft obftinately mute.
At length, got home, he angry cry'd.
My fondnefs is abus'd ;
Then die a maid — Indeed, faid I,
I'd rather be excus'd.
T/je Jovial Tars^
Come, come, my jolly lads \
The wind's abaft ;
Brllk gales our fails fhall crowd.
Come buftle, buftle, boys.
Haul the boat %
The boatfwain pipes aloud i
'' ' ' B
14 THE EDINBURGH SYREN;
The lliip's immoor'd ;
All hands on board ;
The rifmg gale
Fills every fail,
The lliip's well man'd and ftor'd.
Then fling the flo^ving bowl— i
Fond hopes arife —
The girls we prize
Shall blefs each jovial foul s
The can, boys bring—-
We'll drink and fxng,
While foaming billows roll.
Tho' to the Spanifh coaft
We're bound to fteer,
We'll ftill our rights maintain ;
Then bear a hand, be Heady, boy^,
Soon we'll fee
Old England once again :
From Ihore to ihore
While cannons roar,
Our tars ihali Ihow
The haughty foe,
Britannia rules the main.
Then fling the flowing bowl, &c.
Cobkr of Cajllebury^
^TwAs in a village near Caftlebury,
A cobler and his wife did dwell.
MUSICAL BOUQUET, 35
And for a time no two fo merry,
Their happinefs no tongue can tell ;
But to this couple, the neighbours tell us.
Something did happen that caus'd much flrife,
For going to a neighb'ring alehoufe,
The man got drunk and beat his wife.
But though he treated her fo vilely,
What did this wife, good creature, do ?
Kept fnug, and found a method llily.
To wring his heart quite through and through |
For Dick the tapfter, and his maftcr,
By the report that then was rife,
Were both in hopes by this difafter.
To gain the cobler's pretty wife.
While things went on to rack and ruin.
And all their furniture was fold.
She feem'd t* approve what each was doing,
And got from each a purfe of gold.
So when the cobler's cares were over,
He fwore to lead an alter'd life,
To mind his work, ne'er be a rover,
And love no other but his wife.
The Lafs of Richinond Hill,
On Richmond Hill there lives a lafs,
More bright than May-day morn ;
Whofe charms all other maids furpafs,
A rofe without a thorn.
B2
t6 tHE EDINBURGH SYREN ;
This lafs' {o neat, with fmiles fo fweet^
Has won my right good-will ;
I'd crowns refign to call her mine,
Sweet lafs of Richmond Hill.
Ye zephyrs gay that fan the air,
And wanton thro' the grove ;
O whifper to my charming fair—
I die for her and love.
This lafs fo neat, &c.
How happy will the fhepherd be.
Who calls this nymph his own ;
O may the choice be fix'd on me —
Mine's fix'd on her alone.
This lafs fo neat, &c. -i
Paddy BuWs Expedition,
When I took my departure from Dublin's fweet
town,
And for England's ownfelf thro* the feas I did
plow ;
For four long days I was tofs'd up and down.
Like a quid of chew'd hay in the throat of a
cow ;
While ail-aid off the deck in the ocean to flip, Sir,
I clung like a cat a fall hold for to keep. Sir ;
Round about the big poft that grows out of the
fhip, Sir,
O I n^ver thought more to fmg langolee.
GRj MUSICAL BOUQUET. I 7
Thus flandiiig flock ftill, all the while I was mov-
ing,
Till Ireland's coaft I Hiw clean out of fight ;
Myfelf the next day a true Irilhman proving,
When leaving the fhip on the fhore for to light ;
As the board they put out was too naiTOw to
quarter,
The firft ftep I took was in fuch a totter,
That I jump'd upon land, to my neck up in v/ater ;
O that was no time to ling langolee.
But as fl'iarp cold and hunger I never yet knew
more,
And my ftomach and bowels did grumble and
growl,
I thoughtthe beftway to get each in good humour,
Was to take out the wrinkles of both, by my
foul ;
So I went to a houfe where roaft meat they pj?o-
vide, Sir,
With a whirligig, wiiichup the chimney I fpy*d,
Sir,
And which grinds all their fmoke into powder be-
fides, Sir —
^Tis true as I am now fmging langolee.
Then I went to the landlordof alltheftage coaches.
That fet fail for London each night of the week.
To whom I obnoxioufly made my approaches.
As a birth aboard one I was come for to feek;
But as for the infide, I'd no cafh in my cafliet,
B 3
l8 THE EDINBURGH SYREN J
Saysl, with your leave, I makebold, Sir, to afkit.
When the coach is gone off, pray what time goes
the balket ?
For there I can ride and fmg langolee.
When, making his mouth up, — " the bafket, fays
he, Sir,
Goes after the coach a full hour or two ;'*
Very well, Sir, fays I, that's the thing then for
me, Sir,
But the Devil a word that he told me was true ;
For though one went before, and the other be-
hind, Sir,
They fat off cheek by jole at the very fame
time, Sir,
So the fame day, at night, I fet out by moon-fhine.
Sir,
All alone by rnyfelf fmging langolee.
O long life to the moon, for a brave noble crea-
ture,
That ferves us vv^ith lamp-light each night In
the dark !
While the fun only ftiines in the day, which, by
nature.
Wants no light at all — as you all may remark;
But as for the moon, by my foul I'll be bound, Sir,
It would fave the whole nation a great many
pounds, Sir,
To fubfcribe for to lighthim up all the year round,
Sir,
Or FIl never fm^ more about langolee.
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET, I9
Anacreon.
To Anacreon in heav'n, where he fat in full glee,
A few fons of harmony fent a petition,
That he their infpirer and patron would be ;
When this anfw^er arriv'd from the jolly ol4
Grecian,
Voice, fiddle and flute,
No longer be mute,
J'U Ifend you my name and infpire you to boot ;
And befides, I'll indrud ye, like me, to en-
twine.
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine.
The news through Olympus immediately flew,
When old Thunder pretended to give himfelf
airs,
Jf thefe mortals are fuffer'd their fchemestopurfue.
The devil a goddefs will ftay above ftairs.
Hark ! already they cry,
In tranfports of joy,
Away to the fons of Anacreon well ily :
And there with good fellows, we'll learn to en-
twine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine.
The yellow hair*d god, and his nine fufly maidsj
From Helicon's banks will incontinent flee ;
Idalia will boaft but of tenantlefs fhades.
And the beforked hill a mere defart will be:
20 THE EDINBURGH SYREN J
■ My thunder, no fear on't.
Shall foondo it's errand,
And dam' me ! I'll fwing^ the ringleaders, I
warrant,
I'll trim the young dogs for thus daring to 'twine
The myrtle of Venus with Baccbus's vine.
Apollo rofe up, and faid prithee ne'er quarrel,
Good king of the gods, with my vot'ries below;
Your thunder is ufelefs, then fhowing his laurel,
Cry'd Sk evltabilefulmeny you know!
Then over each head
My laurels I'll fpread,
So my fons from your crackers no mifchlef fhall
dread.
While fnug in their club-room, they jovially 'twine
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine.
Next Momus rofe up, with his rifible phiz,
And fwore with Apollo he'd cheerfully join :
The full tide of harmony ftill fhall be his.
But the fong and the catch, and the laugh fhall
be mine ;
Then, Jove, be not jealous
Of thefe honeft fellows ;
Cry'd Jove, we relent, fmce the truth you now
tell us,
And fwearbyold Styx, thatthey long fliall entwine
^he myrtle of Venus with BaccKus's vine.
Ye fons of Anacreon, then join hand in hand,
Preferve unanimity, friendlhip, and love.
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. 21
'Tis yours to fupport what's fo happily plann'd.
You've the fandlion of gods, and the fiat of Jove :
While thus we agree,
Our toall let it be,
May our club flourifli happy, united and free 1
And long may the fons of Anacreon entwine.
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine.
Bonny Bet.
No more I'll court the town bred fair,
Who ftiines in artificial beauty,
For native charms, without compare,
Claim all my love, refpedl, and duty.
CHORUS.
O my bonny, bonny Bet, fweet blofTomj
Was I a king fo proud to wear thee,
From off the verdant couch I'd bear thee^
To grace thy faithful lover's bofom.
O my bonny, bonny Bet, 6cc.
Yet, afk me where thofe beauties lie,
I cannot fay in fmile or dimple.
In blooming cheeks or radiant eye,
*Tis happy nature wild and fimple*
O my bonny, bonny Bet, &c.
Let dainty beaux for ladies pine.
And figh in numbers trite and commbnv
22 THE EBINBURGH SYREN ;
Ye gods one darling wlfh be mine.
And all I afk is lovely woman.
O my bonny, bonny Bet, &c.
Come deareft girl, the rofy bowl.
Like thy bright eye with pleafure dancing,
My heaven art thou, lb take my foul,
With rapture every fenfe
O my bonny, bonny Bet, &c.
Golden Days of Good ^een Befs,
To my rriufe give attention, and deem it not myC
tery,
If we jumble together mufic, pc etry, and hiftory,
The tim.es to difplay in the reign of Queen Befs,
Sir,
Whofe name and whofe memory poflerlty may
blefs, Sir. :
CHORUS.
O the golden days of good Queen Befs.
Merry bethe memory of good Queen Befs.
Then welaughatthebugbearsof donsand armadas.
With their gunpowder pufFs, and their blufteriug
bravadoes ;
For he knew how to manage both the muilcet and
the bow. Sir,
And cou'd bring down a Spaniard juft as eafy as a
crow, Sir,
0 the golden days, 6cc»
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUEt, 23
Then our ftreets were unpav'd, and our houfes
were thatch'd, Sir,
Our windows were lattic'd, our doors only latch'd,
Sir,
Yet fo few were the folks that would plunder and
rob, Sir,
That the hangman was ftarving for the want of a
job. Sir,
O the golden days, See.
Then our ladles with large ruffs tied round about
the neck faft,
Would gobble up a pound of beef fteakes for their
breakfaft ;
While a clofe quilted coif their noddles juft did
fit, Sir,
And they trufs'd up as tight as a rabbit for the
fpit, Sir,
O the golden days, &c.
Then jerkins, and doublets, and yellow worfted
hofe, Sir;
Witli a pair of huge whifkers, was the drefs of our
beaus, Sir ;
Strong beer they preferr'd to claret or to hock
Sir,
And no poultry they prized like the wing of an oxj
Sir.
O the golden days, &c.
$4 THE EDINBURGH SYREN ;
Good neighbourhood was then as plenty too as
beef, Sir,
And the poor from the rich ne'er wanted relief,
Sir ;
While merry went the mill-clack, the fliuttle and
the plough. Sir,
And honeft men could live by the fweet of their
brow. Sir,
O the goldea days, &c.
Then the folks every Sunday went twice at leaft
to the church. Sir,
And never left the parfon on the fermon In the
lurch. Sir ;
For they judged the Sabbath was for people to be
good in.
And they thought it Sabbath-breaking if they
dinM without pudding.
O the golden days, &c.
Then our great men were good, and our good men
were great. Sir,
And the props of the nation were the pillars of the
ftate, Sir ;
For the fov'reign and the fubjedl one intereft fup-
ported.
And our powerful alliance by all powers then was
courted.
O the golden day?, &Co
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET; 25
Thus renpwn'd as they liv'd all the days of their
lives, Sir,
Bright examples of glory to thofe who furvive, Sir;
May we their d^fcendants purfue the fame ways,
Sir,
That King George, like Queen Befs, may have
his golden days, Sir,
CHORUS, ^
And may a longer reign of glory and
fuccefs,
Make his name eclipfe the fame of good
Queen Befs.
Tlie Moment Aiirora,
The moment Aurora peepM into my room,
I put on my clothes and I call'd to my groom ;
And, my head heavy ftill, from the fumes of laft
night.
Took a bumper of brandy to fet all things right ;
And now were well faddled Fleet, Dapple, and
Grey,
Who feem*d longing to hear the glad found hark
away.
Will Whiftl^ by this had uncoupl'd his hourds,
Whofe ecilacy nothing could keep within bounds?
Firft forward came Jowler, then Scentwell, then.
Snare,
Three better (launch harriers ne'er ftarted a har^
C
"Z6 THE EDINBURGH SYREN J
Then Sweetlips, then Driver, then Staunch, and'
then Tray,
AH ready to open at hark, hark away.
^Twas now by the clock about five in the morn,
And we all gallop'd off to the found of the horn;
Jack Gater, Bill Babler, and Dick at the gun,
And by this time the merry Tom Fairplay made
one.
Who, while we were jogging on blithefome and
gay,
Sung a fong, and the chorus was — Hark, hark
away.
And now Jemmy Lurcher had every bufli beat,
And no figns of madam, nor trace of her feet ;
Nay, we juft had begun our fad fortunes to curfe,
When all of a fuddeu out ftarts Mrs Pufs ;
Men, horfes, and dogs, all the glad-call obey.
And echo was heard to cry — -hark, hark away.
The chace was a fine one, fhe took o'er the plain,
Which fhe doubled, and doubled, and doubled
again ;
Till at laft file to cover returriM out out of breath.
Where I and Will Whiftle Were in at the death j
Then in triumph for you I the hare did difplay.
And cry*d to the horns, my boys, hark, hark
away.
OR, MUSICAL B©XJQUET. 2J
The Taxes.
Hard hard are the times, is the cry, 'tis no won*
der;
For with taxes we are fo moft devilifh kept under ;
What with taxes on this thing, and taxes on
'tother,
Jt's ftrange how We live, and bring both ends to-
gether.
Derry down, down, down derry down.
From the crown of the head to the foles of the
feet,
We are tax'd in all things fo wonderous complete,
Bedaubed with ftamps, as with biles was old Job,
We had need of his patience to bear with the load.
Derry down, &c.
The hat that defends me from cold and from rain,
And the gloves that I wear for a purpofe the fame.
E'en the flioes on my feet, which 'bove all I can't
want.
The leather they're made of mull pay for the ftamp.
Derry down, &c.
For the light from the heavens we're forced to pay,
Elfe from our apartments to fliut out the day.
Then grovel in darknefs like moles in the ground.
For unlefs v;e pay tax, there's no light to be
found.
Derry down, &c.
C2
al8 THE EDINBURGH SYREN ;
If we light up a candle, 'tis ftill all the fame,
F •)' there Billy Pit he is with us again ;
Tiitre is no efcaping his mercilefs paws,
For he ftops every gap by his new excife laws.
Derry down, &c.
If our lives we would fpend in a bachelor flate.
We're taxed becaufe we're in want of a mate.
If our minds they fhould aJter, and v,^e take a
fpoufe,
The king muft be pay'd before we pay our vows,
Derry down, &c.
When married, altho' perhaps little to fpare,
Yet one ftill wifties children that little to heir ;
Should heaven be pleas'd with our wilh to com-.
And fpoufe be laid up In bed for to cry,
Derry down, Scc»
Be*t boy, or be't girl, to him 'tis the fame.
He mull have his quota e're it get a name ;
Altho' ne'er a groat over to mak^ our friends
happy,
'Tis all the fame thing to this hard taxing chappie.
Derry down, &c.
Next minifters ftipend, their cefs, and import.
Enough a poor foul to caufe flee from his poft ;
OR, MUSICAL BOT?QUET. 2g
There is no denying the law it enforces,
For we're burden'd with taxes like Leith carters
horfes.
Derry down, Sec.
There Is no door left open through which we can
go,
No crevice nor comer but what he doth know ;
At the gates of grim death he has fet up his pole.
And there's none enters there, but their friends
muft pay toll.
Derry down, &c.
Thus, fmgle or married, or dead or alive,
There's nothingcan fave us frorn paying ourtythe;
St) 'tis needlefs to grumble, but patient fubmit.
For howe'er hard the times be, there's few wifli
to flit.
Derry down, down, down derry down.
T/je JValerman*
I WAS, d'ye fee, a waterman.
As tight and fpruce as any,
'Twixt Richmond town
And Horfly down,
I earn'd an honeft penny ;
None could of fortune's favours brag
More than could lucky I,
30 THE EDINBURGH SYREN;
My cot was firag, well BlVd my cag^-
My grunter in the fty.
W«th wherrv tight
And bofom. light
I cheerfully did row,
And, to complete this princely life.
Sure never man had friend and wife
Like my Poll and my partner Joe.
t ^rolPd in joys like thefe awhile,
Folks far and near carefs'd me,
Till, woe is me,
So lubberly
The prefs-gang came and prefs'd me
How could I all thcfe pleafures leave ?
How with my wherry part ''
1 never lb took on to grieve,
It wrung my very heart.*
But when on board
They gave the word
To foreign parts to go,
I rued the mom.ent I was born,
That ever I fhould thus be torn
From my Poll and my partner Joe,'
I did my duty manfully,
While on the billows rollings
And night and day
Could find my way
Blindfold to the main-top bowling.
Thus all the dangers of the main,
Qj-iickfandsj and gales of wind.
^ OR, MUSICAL BOUQUKT. $1
I bravM, in hopes to tafte again
The joys I left behind :
In climes afar,
The hotteft war,
PourM b.roadfides on the foe.
In hopes thefe perils to relate,
As by my fide attentive fat.
My Poll and my partner Joe.
At laft it pleased his Majefty
To give peace to the nation,
And honeft hearts.
From foreign parts,
Came home for confolation :
Like lightening— for I felt new life,
Now fafe from all alarms —
I rulh'd, and found my friend and wife—
Lock'd in each other's arms !
Yet fancy not
I bore my lot
Tame, like a lubber : — No,
For feeing I was finely trick'd.
Plump to" the devil I fairly kick'd
My Poll and my partner Joe.
Anna's Urn.
Encompass'd in an angel's frame.
An angel's virtues lay;
33 THE EDINBURGH SYREN J
Too foon did heav'n a/Tert the claim,
And call'd its own away ;
And call'd its own away.
My Anna's worth, my Anna's charms,
Muft never more return,
Miift never more return,
What now fhall fill thofe widow'd arms.
Ah ! me, Ah ! me. Ah ! me, mv Anna's urn.
The Jolly Fi/herman,
I AM a jolly fiflierman,
I catch what I can get,
Still going on my better's plan
All's fifli that comes to net :
rifh, juft like men, I've often caughj:,
Crabs, gudgeons, poor John, codfifh,
And many a time to market brought,
A dev'lilli fight of odd fifh.
Thus all are fifhermen through life,
With wary pains and labour.
This baits with gold, and that a wife.
And all to catch his neighbour :
Then praife the jolly fiflierman,
Who takes what he can get.
Still going on his betters' plan,
All's Mh that comes to net,
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. 3^-
The pike, to catch the little fry.
Extends his greedy jaw,
For all the world, as you and I,
Have feen your man of law :
He who to lazinefs devotes
His time is fure a numb fifh ;
And members who give filent votes
May fairly be called dumb filh,
Falfe friends to eels we may compare^,
The roach refembles true ones ;
Like gold-fifh we find old ones rare,
Plenty as herrings new ones.
Then praife, &c.
Like fifli then mortals are a trade,
And trap'd, and fold, and boughtj
The old wife and the tender maid,
Are both with tickling caught ;
Indeed the fair are caught, 'tis faid,
If you but throw the line in,
With maggots, flies, or fomething red^
Or any thing that's Ihining :
With fmall filh you mull lie in wait
For thofe of high condition.
But 'tis alone a golden bait
Can catch a learn'd phyfician.
Then praife, &c.
54 THE EDINBURGH SVREN;
^Tavas in the good Ship Ro'uer,
^TwAs in the good lliip rover
I failed the world around,
And for three years and over,
I ne'er touch'd Britiih ground ;
At length in England landed,
I left the roaring main,
Found all relations ftranded.
And went to fea again.
That time bound ftraight to Portugal,
Right fore and aft we bore ;
But, when we'd made Cape Ortugalj
A gale blew ofF the fhore ;
She lay, fo did it fhock her,
A log upon the main ;
Till, fav'd from Davy's locker,
We put to fea again.
Next in a frigate failing,
Upon a fqually night.
Thunder and light'ning hailing
The horrors of the fight,
My precious limb was lopped oiF,
I when they'd eas'd my pain,
Thank'd God I was not popped oft^
And went to fea again.
0,R, MUSICAL BOUCVUET. 35;
Yet ftill am I enabled
To bring up in life's rear,
I Although I'm quite difabled.
And lie in Greenwich tier ;
The king, God blefs his royalty.
Who fav'd me from the main,
I'll praife with love and loyalty.
But ne'er to fea again.
High-mettled Racer.
See the courfe throng'd with gazers, the fports
are begun,
The confufion but hear! — I'll be at you fir — done,
done ;
Ten thoufand ftrange murmurs refound far and
near,
Lords, hawkers, and jockies aiTail the tir'd ear z
While, with neck like a rainbow, ereding his
creft,
Pamper'd, prancing, and pleas'd, his head touch-
ing his breaft,
Scarcely fnuffing the air, he's fo proud and elate,
The high-mettled racer firft ftarts for the plate«
Now reynard's turn'd out, and o'er hedge and
ditch rufh
Hounds, horfes, and huntfmen, all hard at his
brufhi
36 THE EDINBURGH SYREN J
They run him at length, and they have him at
bay,
And by fcent and by view, cheat a long tedious
way :
While, alike born for fports of the field or the
courfe,
Always fure to come through a (launch and fleet
horfe ;
When fairly run down, the fox yields up his
breath.
The high-mettled racer is in at the death.
Grown aged, ufed up, and turn'd out of the
ftud,
Lame, fpavin'd, and wind-gall'd, but yet with
fome blood ;
While knowing poftilions his pedigree trace.
Tell his dam won this fweepftakes, his fire gained
that race ;
And what matches he won to the oftlers count
o'er,
As they loiter their time at fome hedge ale-houfe
door.
While the harnefs fore galls, and the fpurs his
fides goad.
The high-mettled racer's a hack on the road.
Till at laft, having labour'd, drudg'd early and
late,
Bow'd dov/n by degrees, he bsnds on to his fats*
OR.J MUSICAL bouq^;et. 37
Blind, old, lean, and feeble, he tugs round a mill,
Or draws fand, till the fand of Jiis hour-glafs
ftands Rill :
And now, cold and lifelefs, exposM to the view^'
In the very fame cart which he yefterday drew,
While a pitying crowd his fad relicks furroundsj
The high mettled racer is fold for the hounds.
In my pleafan!: Native Plains.
In my pleafant native plains,
Wing'd with blifs each moment Hewj,
Nature there infpir'd the ftrains,
Simple as the joys I knew ;
Jocund morn and ev'ning gay,
Claim'd the merry mzvrj roundelay,
Ciaim'd the merry merry roundelay,
t^ields and flocks, and fragrant flow'rs^.
All that health and joy impart,
CalPd for artlefs mufic's pow'rs ;
Faithful echoes to the heart.
Happy hours, for ever gay,
Ciaim'd the merry roundelay.
But the breath of genial fpring, -
Wak'd the warblers of the grove ;
Who, fweet birds, that heard you fmgj
Would not join the fong of love ?
Your fweet notes, and chantings gaj,
Ciaim'd the sjnerry roundelay.
D t
5? THE EDINBURGH SYRhN 5
Honv blejl the Maid,
How bleft the maid whofe bofom
No headftrong paffion knows.
Her days in joy ftie pafTes,
Her nights in calm repofe ;
Where e'er her fancy leads her.
No pain, no fear invades her^
3ut pleafure without meafure,
From ev'ry objedl flows.
No pain, no fear, where e'er fhe goes^,
How bleft the maid whofe bofom
No headftrong paftion knows.
Her days in joys Jlie paffes.
Her nights in calm repofe ;
Where e'er her fancy leads.
No pains no fear invades.
No fear invades, no fear invades.
T'h^ Tobacco-Box. — A Duet.
Thomas.
Tho' the fate of battle on to-morrow wait,
Let's not lofe our prattle now my charming Kate,
Till the hour of glory love lliould now take place^'
Nor damp the joys before you with a future cafe;.
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET* 39
kate.
Oh my Thomas ftill be conftant, ftill be true,
33e but to your Kate, as Kate is ftill to you ;
Glory will attend you ftill, will make as bieft,
With my firmeft love my dear you're ftill poftefl,
Thomas,
No new beauties tafted, I'm their arts above.
Three campaigns are wailed, but not fo my love.
Anxious ftill about thee, thou art all I prize.
Never Kate, without thee, w411 I bung thefe eyes*
Kate.
Conftant to my Thomas I v/ill ftill remain.
Nor think I will leave thy fide the whole cam-
paign.
But rU cherifh thee and ftrive to make thee bold,
^ay'ft thou lliarc the vi(5l'ry, may 'ft thou ftiare
the gold.
Thomas.
If by fome bold aftion I tire halbert bear.
Think what fatisfadion when my rank you fiiare,
Dreft like any lady fair from top to toe,
fine lac'd caps and ruffles then will be your due,
Kate.
If a ferjeant*s lady I fliould chance to prove,
Linen Ihall be ready always for my love ;
Never more will Kate the Captain's laundrefs be,
I'm too pretty, Thomas love, for all but thee.
D 2
•4p THE EDINBURGH SYREN ;
Thomas.
Here, Kate, take my 'bacco box, a foldier's all.
If by Frenchmen's blows your Tom is doom'd to
fall.
When my life is ended, thou may 'ft boaft and
prove,
Thoud'ft my firft, my laft, my only pledge of love,
Kate.
Here take back thy 'bacco box, thou'rt all to me.
Nor think but I will be near thee love to fee,
In the hour of danger let me always fhare,
I'll be kept no ftr^nger to my foldier's fare,
Thomas.
Check that rifmg figh, Kate, flop that falling tear,
Come, my pretty comrade, entertain no fear ;
But may heav'n befriend us ; hark ! the drums
command.
Now I will attend you. Love I kifs your hand.
Kate.
I can't ftop thefe tears, though crying I difdain.
But mu{l own 'tis trying hard the point to gain i
May good heav'ns defend thee, confjueft on thee
wait ;
One kifs more, and then I give thee up to fiite.
Both repeat the laft 1 ^ n
r f r^■^^ I ConGuefl on me wait,
¥erie, only ihomasV . ^ • ^i r ic .^ <- .
f ' J ■ I Ana vieldmyleir toiate,
fays ) " ■ '
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. 4t
Robin yidalr.
You're welcome to Paxton, Robin Adair,
You're welcome to Paxton, Robin Adair,
How does Jonny Mackril do,
Aye and Luke Gard'ner too,
Why did they not come with you, Robin Adair ?
Come and fit down by me, Robin Adair,
Come and fit down by me, Robin Adair,
And welcome you fliall be.
To every thing that you lee,
Why did they not come with you, Robin Adair ?
I will drink wine with you, Robin Adair,
I will drink wine with you, Robin Adair,
Rum punch, aye, or brandy too,
By my foul I'll get drunk with you,
Why did they not come with you, Robin Adair ?
Then let us drink about, Robin Adair,
Then let us drink about, Robin Adair,
Till we've drank a hogfhead out.
Then we'll be fow nae doubt.
Why did they not come with you, Robin Adair ?
7he Bonny Bold Soldier.
I've plenty of lovers that fue me in vain.
My heart is with Willy far over the plain,
D3
42 THE EDINBURGH SYREN J
For handfome and witty, and brave is the fwain,
The bonny bold foldier young Willy's for me ;
For handfome and witty and brave is the fwain,
The bonny bold foldier young Willy's for me.
In the trumpet's fhrill found my foldier delights^
For honour, his king, and his country he fights,
He figh — — — — -ts figh — -ts,
For honour, his king, and his country he fights.
For honour, his king, and his country he fights,
I fhare with his drefs in the heart of a beau.
The dodor my pulfe feels and ne'er takes a fee.
The one is pedantic, the other all ftiow ;
The one is pedantic, Sec.
The bonny bold foldier young Willy's for me,
The bonny bold foldier, &c.
The trumpet's Ihrill found, &c.
The lawyer fo crafty I fly from in fear,
The dangling poet I Ihun when I fee.
Once more, O ye powers, reftore me my dear.
Once more, O ye powers, &c.
The bonny bold foldier young Willy's for me,
'yhe bonny bold foldier, &c.
The trumpet's fhrill found, &c.
The Ne2leaed Tar.
I SING the Britilh feaman's praife^
A theme renown'd in ftoryj
OR, MUSICAL BOU(iy£T, 4;|
It well deferves more polifh'd lays ;
Oh ! 'tis your boaft and glory.
When mad-brahi'd war fpreads death aroundj
By them you are proteded ;
jBut when In peace the nation's found,
Thefe bulwarks are neglected.
Then, O ! proted: the hardy tar,
Be mindful of his merit ;
And when again your plung'd in war.
He'll fliew his daring fpirit.
When thickefl darknefs covers all.
Far on the tracklefs ocean ;
When lightnings dart, when thunders roll.
And all is wild commotion :
When o'er the bark the white-topp'd waves^
With boift'rous fweep are rolling,
Yet coolly ftill, the whole he braves,
Untam'd amidft the howling.
Then, oh ! protedl, Sec.
When deep immers'd in fulph'rous fmoke^
He feels a glowing pieafure ;
He loads his gun, he cracks his joke,
Elated beyong meafure.
Though fore and aft the blood-flain'd deck
Should lifelefs trunks appear ;
Or fhould the veffel float a wreck,
The failor knows no fear.
Then, oh ! proteft, &c.
44 THE EDINBURGH SYREN ;
When long becalm'd, on fouthern brine,
Where fcorching beams affail him ;
When all the canvafs hangs fupine.
And food and water fail him ;
Then oft he dreams of Britain's fhore,
Where plenty ftill is reigning ;
They call the watch, his rapture's o'er.
He fighs, but fcorns complaining.
Then, oh! proted, &c.
Or burning on that noxious coaft,
Where death fo oft befriends him ;
Or pinch'd by hoary Greenland froft,
True courage ftill attends him :
No clime can this eradicate,
He glories in -annoyance ;
He fearlefs braves the ftorms of fate,
And bids grim death defiance.
Then, oh ! protedl, &c.
Why fhould the man who knows no fearp
In peace be then neglected ?
Behold him move along the pier.
Pale, meagre, and dejected !
Behold him begging for employ !
Behold him difregarded '
Then, view the anguifh in his eye,
And fay, are tars rew^arded ?
Then, oh! protect, <kc.
To them your deareft rights you owe,
In peace then would vou ftan^e tliem ?
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. 45"
What foy ye Britain's fons ! — Oh ! no.
Protect them, and preferve them.
Shield them from poverty, and pain,
'Tis policy to do it ;
Or, vdien grim war fhall come again,
Oh, Britons, ye may rue it !
Then, oh ! proted, 8cc.
The Union of Bacchus and Venus.
I'm a vot'ry of Bacchus, his godfhip adore,
And love at his fhrine gay libations to pour,
And Venus, bleft Venus, my bofom infpires ;
For fhe lights in our fouls the mod fecret of fires :
Yet to neither, I fwear fole allegiance to hold.
My bottle and lafs, I by tums muft enfold ;
For the fweeteft of unions that mortals can prove.
Is of Bacchus, gay god, and the goddefs of love:
For the fweeteft of unions that mortals can prove,
Is of Bacchus, gay god, and the goddefs of love.
When fill'd to the fair, the bri^c bumper I hold,
Can the mifer furvey v/lth fuch pleafure his gold I
The ambrofia of gods no fuch relifli can boaft,
If good port, fill your glafs, and fair Kitty's the
toaft ;
And the charms of your girl more angelic will be,
If her fopha's encircled with wreaths from his tree.
For the fweeteft of unions that mortals can prove,
|s of Bacchus, gay god, and the goddefs of love.
4^ THE EDlNBtTRGH SYREN ^
All partial dlftindions I hate from my foul,
O give me my fair one, and give me my bowl ;
Blifs, refleded from either, will fend to my heart
Ten thoufand fweet joys which they can't have
apart ;
Go try it, ye fmiling and gay looking throng,
And your heart fliall in unifon beat to my fong,
That the fweeteft of unions that mortals can provcy
Js of Bacchus, gay god, and the goddefs of love.
Favourite Indlati Death Sonsfl
^HE fim fets in night, and the ftars fhun the day^
But glory remains when their lights fade away j
3egin ye tormentors, your threats are in vain,
For the fon of Alknomook ftiall never complain.
Remember the arrows he fhot from his bow ;
Remember your chiefs by his hatchet laid low:
\Vhy fo flow? do you wait 'till I flnink from my
pain ?
No — the fon of Alknomook fliall never c,om<
plain.
Remember the wood—- where in ambufli we lay,
And the fcalps which we bore from your nation
away :
Now tlie flame rifes faft! you exult in my pain ;
!^ut the fon of Alknomook fliall never complain.
OR, WUSICAL BOUQUET. 47
I go to the land where my father is gone ;
His ghoft fliall rejoice in the fame of his fon:
Death comes like a friend, — he reheves me from
pain ;
And the fon of Alknomook has fcorPvd to com"
plain.
Mary Scot.-
Happy's the love that meets return.
When in foft flames fouls, equal burn ;
But words are wanting to difcover
The torments of a hopelefs lover.
Ye regifters of heav'n relate.
If looking o'er the rolls of fate
Did ye there fee me mark'd to marrow,
Mary Scot the flow'r of Yarrow ?
Ah, no ! her form's too heav'nly fair—
Her love the gods above muft ihare,
While mortals Avith defpair implore her,,
And at a diHance due, adore her—
O, lovely maid ! my doubts beguile,
Revive and blefs me with a fmile ;
Alas ! if not, you foon debar a
Sighing fwain the banks of Yarrow.
Be huni, ye fearsj— I'll not defpair,
My Mary's tender as Ihe's fair ;
Then I'll go tell her all my anguilh^
She is too good to let me languilh.
/}.8 THE EDINBURGH SYREN :
With fuccefs crown'd, I'll not envy
The folks who dwell above the iky ;
When Mary Scot's become my marrow^
We'll make a paradife of Yarrow.
The Rofe Tree,
Pah
A Rose-tree full in bearing,
Had fweet flow'rs fair to fee.
One rofe, beyond comparing,
For beauty attraded me.
Tho' eager once to win it,
Lovely, blooming, frelh, and gay^
I, find a canker in it.
And now throw it far away,
Norah,
How fine this morning early.
The fun fhining clear and bright ;
So late I lov'd you dearly,
Tho' loft novv^ each fond delight.
The clouds feem big with Ihow'rs,
Sunny beams no more are feen,—
Farewell ye happy hours,
Your falfehood has chang'd the fcer^e.-
Eoth repeat.
The clouds feem big, 5rc. to the end.
OR, MUSICAL BOUQLTET. ^0
Dear is my native Vale,
t)EAti is ,my little native vale,
The ring-dove builds and warbles there ;
Clofe by my cot flie tells her tale
To ev'ry paflTmg villager.
Tlie fquirrel leaps from tree to tree.
And lliells his nuts at liberty.
In orange groves and myrtle bowers,
That breathe a gale of fragrance rounds
I charm the fairy-footed hours,
With my lov'd lute's romantic found 5
Or crowns of living laurel weave
For thofe that win the race at eve.
The fliepherd's horn at break of day,
The ballet danc'd in twilight glade^
The canzonet and roundelay.
Sung in the filent greenwood fliade.
Thefe fimple joys, that never fail,
Shall bind me to my native vale.
For tender nejs fajl^ioj^ d»
¥oR tendemefs faihion'd, in life's early day,
A parent's foft forrow to mine led the way ;
The leflbn of pity was caught from her eye.
And ere I knevv language, 1 fpoke with a figli
50 THE EDINBURGH SYREN ;
The nightingale plundered, — the mate-widow'd
dove,
The warbled complaint of the fufFering grove ;
To youth as it ripen'd, gave fentlment new:
The objedt flill changing, the fympathy true.
Soft embers of paffion yet reft In their glow ; ■
A warmth of more pain may this breaft never
know !
Or if too indulgent the bleffing I claim,
Let the fpark drop from reafon, that weakens the
fiame.
Mary^s Dreai
The moon had climb'd the higheft hill
That rifes o'er the fource of Dee,
And from the eaftem fummit fhed
Her filver light on tow'r and tree ;
When Mary laid her down to fleep.
Her thoughts on Sandy far at fea k
Then foft and low a voice was heard
Say— Mary weep no more for me,*
She from her pillow gently rals'd
Her head, to afk who there might be.
And faw young Sandy fhivering ftand.
With palld cheek and hollow eye.
O, Mary dear ! cold is my clay,
It lies beneath a ftormy fea j
«R, MUSICAL BOUQUET. 5I
Far, far from thee, I fleep in death.
So Mary weep no more for me.
Three flormy nights and ftormy days,
We tofs'd upon the raging main,
And long we ftrove our bark to fave,
But all our ftriving was in vain :
Ev'n then when horror chill'd my blood.
My heart was fill'd with love for thee.
The ftorm is paft, and I at reft,
So Mary weep no more for me.
O ! maiden dear ! thyfelf prepare,
We foon fhall meet upon that fhore
Where love is free from doubt or care.
And thou and I fhall part no more.
Loud crow'd the cock ! the fhadow fled i
No more of Sandy could Ihe fee ;
But foft the paffing fpirit faid,
O ! Mary ! weep no more for me.
SONG. Poor Soldier.
Norah.
The meadows look charming, the birds fweetl/
fmg,
So gaily they carol the praifes of fpring ;
Tho' nature rejoices, poor Norah fliall mourn,
Until her dear Patrick again fhall return.
E2
52 THE EDINBURGH SYREN ;
Ye lalTes of Dublin, ah ! hide your gay charms.
Nor lure my dear Patrick from Norah'sfond arms ;
Tho' fattins, and ribbons, and laces are fine,
They hide not a heart with fuch feelings as mine.
The Bud of the Rofe.
BelvUIe.
Her mouth, which a fmile.
Devoid of all guile,
Half opens to view.
Is the bud of the rofe
In the morning that blows, .
Impearl'd with the dew.
More fragrant her breath
Than the flow'r fcented heath
At the dawning of the day.
The hawthorn in bloom,
The lilly's perfume.
Or the bloffoms of May.
57^*? Tartan Pla'ul
By moonlight on the green,
Where lads and laffes ftray,
Jiow fweet the bloffom'd bean.
How fweet the new-made hay ?
OR, MUSICAL BOUCiUET. 53
But not to me fae fweet
The blofibm of the thorn,
As when my lad I meet
More frelli than May-^ay morn.
Give me the lad fo blithe and gay,
Give me the tartan plaiddie ;
For fpite of all the world can fay,
I'll wed my Highland laddie.
His {km is white as fnow,
His een are bonny blue ;
Like rofe-bud fweet his mou
When wet with morning dew,
Yomig Will is rich and great,
And fiiin wou'^ ca' me his ;
But what is pride or ftate
Without love's fmiling blifs.
Give me the lad, &c.
When firft he talk'd of love,
He look'd fo blithe and gay,
His Hame I did approve,
And could nae fay him nay.
Then to the kirk I'll haftc.
There prove my love aud truth ;
Reward a love fo chafle,
And wed the conllant youth.
Give me the lad, &c.
Tie iveahhy Fool.
HE v^ealthy fool Vv'ith gold in ftore.
Will Pcill defire to grow richer j
54 THE EDINBURGH SYPvEN ;
Give me but thefe, I afk no more, %■
My charming girl, my friend, and pitclier.
My friend fo rare, my girl fo fair,
With thefe what mortal can be richer ?
Give me but thefe, a fig for care,
With rny fweetgirl, my friend, and pitgher.
From morning fun I'd never grieve
To toil a hedge r or a ditcher,
If that Vi'hen I come home at eve
I might enjoy my friend and pitcher.
My friend fo rare, &c.
Tho' fortune ever fhuns my door,
I knotv not what 'tis can bewitch her ;
With all my heart can I be poor —
With my fweet girl, my friend, and pitcher.
My friend fo rare. Sec.
.Let Care he a S Ira fiver.
Let care be a ftranger to each jovial foul
Who, Ariftippus like, can his paffions controul :
Of wifeft philofophers wifeft was he.
Who, attentive to eafe, let his mind ftill be free :
The Prince, Peer, or Peaiant to him were the fame.
For pleased, he was pleafmg to all where he came,
But ftill turn'd his back on contention and ftrife,
Refolving to live all tb^ days of his life.
OR, MUSICAL BOU(:il.TET, ^^
A friend to mankind, all mankind was his friend.
And the peace of his mind was his ukimate end ;
He found fault with none if none found fault with
him.
If his friend had a humour, hehumour'd his whim;
If wine was the word, why he humper'd his glafs,
If love was the topic, he toafted his lafs ;
But ftill turn'd his hack on contention and flrife,
j jR.efolving to live all the days of his life.
If councils difputed, if councils agreed,
He found fault with neither; for this was his creed.
That let them be guided by folly or fenfe,
'Twould htfempereaTlem an hundred years hence.
He thought 'twas unfocial to be mal-content.
If the tide went withhim, vv^ith thetide too he went ;
But ftill turn'd his back on contention and firife,
Refolving to live all the days of his life.
Was the nation at v/ar, he v/ifh'd well to the fword ;
If a peace was concluded, a peace was his word,
Difquiet to him, of body or mind,
V/as the longitude only he never could find.
The philofopher's ftone was but gravel and pain,
And all who had fought it, had fought it In vain 5
He ftill turn'd his back on contention and flrife^
Refolving to live all the days of his life.
Then let us all follow Ariftippus's rules.
And deem his opponents both afles and mules ;
Let thofe not contented to lead or to drive,
By the bees of their fex be drove out of the hive ;
^6 THE EDINBTJRGH SYREN ;
Expell'd from the manfions of quiet and eafe,
May they never find out the bleft art how to pleafe';
While our friends and ourfelves, not forgetting
our wives,
Py thofe maxims may live all the days of our
our Jives.
The gaily circling Glafs,
By the gaily circling glals
We can fee how minutes pafs, — -
By the hollov/ flaflc are told
How the waining night grows old.
3oon, too foon, the bufy day
Drives us from our fports away :
What have we with day to do?
pons of care— -'twas made for you,
pome then fill the cheerful glafs^
Xruth is only found in wine :
Tales of love are all a farce.
But true friendfhip is divine.
IVith a cheerful old Friend,
With a cheerful old friend, and a meiTy old fong,
And a tankard of porter, I'd fit the night long.
OR, MUSICAL EOtJC^yET. ^J
^nd laugh at the follies of thofe that replnej —
Tho* I muft drink porter while they can drink
wine.
I envy no mortal, be he ever fo great,—.
Nor fcorn I the WTetch for his lowly eftate ?
But, v/hat I abhor, and deem as a curfe.
Is meanfiefs of fpirit, — not poornefs of purfe.
Then let us, companions, be jovial and gay,
And cheerfully fpend live's remainder away ;
Upheld by a friend, our foes we'll defpife, —
For, the more we are envy'd, the higher we rife.
M
When the chill Sirocco blows,
And winter tells a heavy tale ;
When "pyes and daws, and rooks and crows
Do fit and curfe the frofl: and fnows.
Then give me ale !
Stout brown ale, nut-brown ale, —
O give me nut-brown ale.
Ale in a Saxon rumkin then.
Such as will make Grimalkin prate^
Bids valour burgeon in tall men ;
Quickens the poet's wit and pen ;
Defpifes fate —
Old brown ale, nut-brovv*n ale,
O give me ftout brown ale.
j8 THE EDINBURGH SYREN;
Ale that the plowman's heart up keeps.
And equals it to tyrants thrones,
That wipes the eye which over weeps,
And lulls in fweet and dainty fleeps
The wearied bones.
Old brown ale, nut-brown ale —
O give me ftout brov/n ale.
Wif, Women, ami Wine,
When Jove was refolv'd to create the roundearth.
He fubpoened the virtues divine, —
Young Bacchus he fat precedentum of mirth.
And the toaft was " wit, women, and wine."
The fentiment tickPd the ear of each god, — >
Apollo he wink'd at the nine ;
And Venus gave Mars, too, a fly wanton nod.
When fhe drank to wit, women, and wine.
Old Jove fhook his fides, and the cup put around.
While Juno, for once, look'd divine ;
Thefe bleffings, fays he, Ihall onearthnow abound,
And the toaft is wit, women, and v/ine.
Thefe are joys, worthy gods, which to mortals
are given.
Says Momus, who will not repine ?
For what's worth our notice, pray tell me, in
heav'n,
Ix man have wit, -^vomen, and wine ?
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. ^ ^g
This joke you'll repent, I'll lay fifty to feven,
Such attraction no pow'r can decline j
Old Jove, by yourfelf you will keep houfeinheav'n,
For vv^e'll follow wit, women, and wine.
Thou'rt right, fays old Jove, let us hence to the
earth.
Men and gods think variety fine ;
Who'd ftay in the clouds, when good nature and
mirth
Are below with wit, women, and wine.
Ru/e Britanma.
When Britain firft, at Heav'a's command,
Arofe from out the azure main,
Arofe, &c.
This was the charter, the charter of the land;*
And guardian angels fung the drain;
CHORUS.
Rule Britanaia, Britannia rule the waves^
For Britons never will be Haves.
The nations not fo blefi as thee,
Muft in their turns to tyrants fall,
Muft, &c.
Whilll thou Ihalt flouriSi, fhalt flouriih great and
free,
The dread and envy of them alL
Rule Britannia, &c.
^O THE EDINBURGH SYREN J
Still more majeftlc (halt thou rife— -
More dreadful from each foreign ftroke^
More dreadful, &c.
As the loud blaft that tears the fkies.
Serves but to root thy native oak.
Rule Britannia, &c.
Thee haughty tyrants ne'er fhall tame ;
All their attempts to bend thee do"ftai,
All their, &c.
Will but aroufe, aroufe thy gen'rous flame^
And work their woe and thy renown.
Rule Britannia, See.
To thee belongs the rural reign, —
Thy cities fhall with commerce filing-,
Thy cities, &c.
All thine Ihall be, fiiall be the fubject main^
And ev*ry fliore its circles thine.
Rule Britannia, Sec.
The Mufes, ftill with freedom found.
Shall to thy happy coafl; repair.
Shall to, &c.
Blefs'd ifle ! with beauty, with matchlefs beauty
(crown'd,
And manly hearts to guard the f:iir.
Rule Britannia, Britannia rule the waves.,
For Britons never will be ilaves=
6r, musical bouqijet. 6i
Nepth
Had Neptune when firft he took charge of the fea,
Been as wife, or at leaft been as merry as we, —
He'd have thought better on't, and inftead of the
brine,
Would have filPd the vaft ocean with ijenerous
iD^
Whattrafncking then would have been on the main.
For the fake of good liquor, as well as for ga'n!
No fear then of tempeft, or danger of fmking, -^
The jSlhes ne'er drown that are always a drink^'-g.
The hot thirfty fun would then drive with Rore
hafte.
Secure in the evening of fuch a repafl: ;
And when he'd got upfey, would have taken his
nap
With double pleafure on Thetis's lap.
By the force of his rays, and thus heated with
wine,
Confider how gloriouily Phoebus v/ould fhine ;
What vaft exhalations he'd draw up on high
To relieve the poor earth as it wanted fupply.
How happy us mortals, when bleft with fuch rain?
To fill all our veffels, and fill them again !
Nay, even the beggar, that has ne'er a diih.
Might jump in the river and drink like a fiih.
F
62 THE EDINBURGH SYREN J
What mirth andcontentment in everyone's brow — .
Hob, as great as a prince, dancing after his plow!
The birds in the air, as they play on the wing,
Altho' they but fip, would eternally fmg.
The ftars, which, I think, don't to drinking in-i
cline.
Would frifk and rejoice at the fume of the wine ; j
And, merrily twin king, would foon let us know,
That they were as happy as mortals below.
Had this been the cafe, what had we then enjoy'd ■
Our fpirlts ftill rifmg, our fancy ne'er cloy'd !
A pox then on Neptune, when 'twas in his pow'r
To flip, like a fool, fuch a fortunate hour.
The Tinhr,
A TINKER I am, my name's Natty Sam,
From morn to night I trudge it ;
So low is my fate, my personal eilate
Lies all within my budget.
Work for the tinker, ho ! good wives,
For they are lads of mettle ;
'Twere well if you could mend your lives
As I can mend a kettk»
OR, MUSICAL bouquet; 63
The man of war, the man of the bar,
Phyficians, prlefts, free-thinkers,
That rove up and down great London town,
What are they all ? but tinkers.
Work for the tinker, &c.
Thofe among the great, who tinker the ftate.
And badger the minority ;
Pray what's the end of their work, my friend ?
But to rivet a good majority.
Work for the tinker, &c.
This mends his name, that cobles his fame,
that tinkers his reputation ;
And thus, had I timxe, I could prove in my rhimcj,
Jolly tinkers of all the nation.
Work for the tinker, &:c.
j^ Soldier's Life.
This, this my lad's a foldier's life;
He marches to the fprightly fife.
And in each town to fome new wife
Swears he'll be ever true.
He's here, he's there, where is he not ?
Variety's his envy'd lot ;
He eats, drinks, fleeps, and pays no fhot.
And follows the loud tattoo.
F2 .
64 1 HE EDINBURGH SYREN ;
Call'd out to face his country's foes,
The tears of fond, domeflic woes,
He klifes off, and boldly goes
To earn of fame his due.
Religion, liberty, and laws,
Bo:h his are, and his country's caufe,
For thefe thro' danger, without paufe,
He follows the loud tattoo.
And if at laft in honour's wars,
He earns his fhare of danger's fears, —
Still he feels bold, and thanks his ftars
He's no worfe fate to rue.
At Chelfea, free from toil and pain,
He wields his crutch, points out the fliiinj
And, in {^'r-d fancy, once again
Follows the loud tattoo.
Nothing Uh Gro"-,
A PLAGUE of thefe mufty old lubbers,
Who tell us to fad and to think.
And patient fall in with life's rubbers,
With nothing but water to drink.
A can of good iiuff, had they twigg'd it,
Would have fet them for pleafure agog,
And in fpite of the rules.
The rules of the fchools,
The old t.cls would have all of them fv/igg'd it.
And (wore there was nothing like gro^,'
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. 6$
Ivly father, when lad I from Guhiea
Retinn'd with abundance of wealth,
Cry'd Jack, never be fuch a ninny
To drink ; — fays I, — father, your health ! ^
So I pall round the fluff, and he twigg'd it,
And it fet the old codger agog ;
And he fwigg'd, and mother,
i^.nd fifler, and brother,
And I fwigg'd, and all of us fwigg'd it,
And fwore there was nothing like grog.
One day when tlie chaplain was preaching.
Behind him I curioully flunk,
And, while he our duty was teaching.
As how we Ihould never get drunk,
I tipt him the fluff, and he twigg'd it,
Which foon fet his rev'rence agog;
And he fwigg'd, and Nick fwigg'd.
And Ben fwigg'd, and Dick fwigg'd.
And I fwigg'd, and all of us fwigg'd it,
And fwore there was nothing like grog.
Then trufl me, there's nothing as drinking
So pleafmt on this fide the grave.
It keeps the unhappy from thinking.
And makes 'em more valiant, more brave ;
For me from the moment I twigg'd it, v
The good fluff has fo fet me agog,
Sick or well, late or early,
Wind foully or fairly,
I've conllantly, conflantly fwigg'd it ;
And d — mne me, there's nothing like grog.
65 THE EDINBURGH SYREN |
jad Ratlin.
Jack Ratlin was the ableft feaman.
None like him could hand, reef, or fteer j
No dang'rous toil, but he'd encounter
With fkill, and in contempt of fear.
In fic;-ht a lion, — the battle ended,
Meek as the bleating lamb he'd prove ;
Thr.s Jack had manners, courage, merit,
Yet did he fighj — and all for love.
The fong the jcftj the flowing liquor,
For none of thcfe had Jack's regard ;
He, while his meirm.ates were curoufmg.
High fitting on his pending yard,
Would think upon his fair one's beautiesj
Swear never from fuch charms to rove ;
That truly he'd adore them living.
And, dying, figh — to end his love.
The fame exprefs the crev/ commanded
Once more to view their native land,
Amongft the reft brought Jack fome tidings
Would it had been his love's {hit hand I
Oh ! Fate ! her death defac'd the letter— ^^
Inftant his pulfe forgot to move !
With quiv'ring "ips, and eyes uplifted,
He heav'd a fsgh !— and dy'd for love.
OR, MUSICAL BOUCiyET, 67
The Sailor^ s Song.
When it is tiiglit, and the mid-watch is come.
And chilHng mifts hang o'er the darken'd main,
Then failors think of their far diftant home,
And of thofe friends they ne'er may fee again.
But when the fight's begun,
Each ferving at his gun,
Should any thought ot them come o'er your mind,— =■
Think, only, fhould the day be won,
How 'twill cheer
The heart, to hear
That their old companion — ^he was one.
Or, my lad, if you a miftrefs kind
Have left on Ihore, — fome pretty girl and truCj,
Who many a night doth liften to the wind.
And figh to think how it may fare with you ;
O ! when the fight's begun,
And ferving at his gun,
Should any thought of her come o'er your mind-
Think, only fhould the day be won,
Hov^^ 'twiil cheer
Her heart, to hear
That her own true failor — he was one.
Siveet Poll of Plymouth.
SwE-ET Poll of Plymouth w^as my dear^
When forc'd from her to go ;_..,
68 THE EDINBURGH SYREN;
Adown her cheeks rain'd many a tear,
My heart was fraught with woe. —
Our anchor weigh'd, for fea we ftood.
The land we left behind ;
Her tears then fwell'd the briny flood.
My iighs increas'd the v/ind.
We plow'd the deep, and now between
Us lay the ocean wide ;
For five long years I had not feen
My fweet, my bonny bride.
That time I fail'd the world around,
All for my true love's fake ;
But prefs'd as we were homeward bound,
I thought my heart would break.
The prefs-gang bold I afk'd in vain
To let me once on fliore ;
I long'd to fee my Poll again,
But faw my Poll no more.
And have they torn my love away !
And is he gone ! — Ihe cry'd ;
My Polly — fweeteft flow'r of May,
She languifh'd, droop'd, and dy'd.
Death or Liberty.
Whilst happy in my native land,
I boaft my country's charter \
I'll never bafely lend my hand
Her liberties to barter.
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. 6g
The noble mind is not at all
By poverty degraded ; ,
'Tis guilt alone can make us fall,
And well I am perfuaded,
Each freeborn Briton's long fliall be.
Give me death or liberty.
Give me death, Sec,
Tho' fmall the pow'r which fortune grant^Sj
And few the gifts fhe fends us.
The lordly hireling often wants
That freedom which defends us :
By law" fecur'd from lawlefs llrife,
Our houfe is our caftellum ;
Thus blefs'd with all that's dear in life,
For lucre fhall we fell 'em ?
J^o I — ev'ry Briton's fong fhall he^
Qive me death or liberty.
Give me death, &c.
The Sailor^ s Farewell.
The top-fall fhivers in the wind, ^
The Ihip Ihe calls to fea,
But yet, my foul, my heart, my mind.
Are, Mary, moor'd with thee ;
For tho' thy jailor's bound afar.
Still love ihall be his leading ftar.
JO THE EDINBURGH SYREN ;
Should landfmen flatter when we're falPd,
O doubt their artful tales ;
No gallant failor ever fall'd,
If iove breath'd conftant gales ;
Thou art the compafs of my foul,
Which fteers my heart from pole to pole.
Syrens hi every port we meet,
More fell than rocks and waves ;
But fuch as grace the Britlfh fleet.
Are lovers, and not flaves ;
No foes our courage fliall fubdue,
Altno' we've left our hearts with you,
Thefe are our cares — but if you're kindj
We'll fcorn the dafhing main.
The rocks, the billows, and the wind.
The power of France and Spain :
Now England's glory refl:s with you.
Our fails are full — fweet girls adieul
,/^ /iii/e LovCf but urg'd nvith Care.
Somehow my fplndle I miflaid.
And loft it underneath the grafs ;
Damon advancing, bow'd his head.
And laid, what feek you pretty lafs :
A little love, but urg'd with care.
Oft leads a heart, and leads it far.
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. 7 I
'Twas paffing by yon fp reading oak,
That I my fplindle lofl jull now:
His knife then kindly Damon took,
And from the tree he cut a bough,
A little love, Sec.
Thus did the youth his time employ, /
While me he tenderly beheld ; /
He talk'd of love, I leap'd for joy.
For ah ! my heart did fondly yield.
A little love, &c.
3Ia there Amie.
Ma chere amic, my charming fair,
Whofe fmiles can banilli ev'ry care ;
In kind compaffion fmile on m^e,
Whofe only care is love of thee.
Ma chcre amie, ma chere amie, ma cliere amicj
ma chere amie.
Under fweet friendfliip's facred name,
My bofom caught the tender flame j
May friendfhip in thy bofom be
Converted into love for me. i
Ma chere amie, &c^
Together rear'd, together growKj
0 let us now unite in one !
72 THE EDINBURGH SVREN J
Let pity foften thy decree,
I droop, dear maid ! I die for thee.
Ma chere amie, &c.
rhe Rofe.
No flower that blows is like this rofe,
Or fcatters luch perfume ;
Upon my breaft, ah I gently reft,
And ever, ever bloom !
Dear pledge to prove a parent's love,
A pleafing gift thou art ;
Come, fweeteft flower, and from this hour
Live henceforth in my heart !
Rofina,
Ere bright Rofma met my eyes.
How peaceful paft the joyous day I -
In rural fports 1 gain'd the prize,
Each virgin liften'd to my lay.
But now no more I touch the lyre,
No more the ruftic fports can pleafe 5
I live the flave of fond defire,
Lofl to myfelfj to mirth, aud eafe*
OR, MUSICAL BOU(VpETi 73
The tree that, in a happier hour.
Its boughs extended o'er the plain,
When blafted by the lightning's pow'r.
Nor charms the eye, nor fbades the fwain,.
7 he honeft Sailor.
That girl who fain wou'd chufe a matCj
Shou'd ne'er in fondnefs fail her ;
May thank her lucky ftars, if Fate
Should fplice her to a failor.
He braves the ftorm, the battle's heatj>
The yellow boys to nail her ;
Diamonds, if diamonds fhe could eatj
Wou'd ieck her honeft failor,
if fhe be true, fure of his hearty
She never need bewail her ;
For tho' a thoufand leagues apartj
Still conftant is her failor.
Tho' fhe be falfe, flill he is kind,
And comes with fmiles to hail herj
Jle trufting, as he trufts the wind,
- Still faithlefs to her failor.
A butcher can procure her prog ;
three threads to drink, a taylor ?
t ^
74' THE EDINBURGH SYREN J
What^s that to bifcuit and to grog
Procured her by her failor ?
She who wou'd fuch a mate refufe,
The devil Aire muft ail her :
Search round, and if you're wife, you*ll chuf3
To wed an honeft failor.
Love in lo'w Life.
Young Jockey he courted fweet Moggy fo fairg
The lafs fhe was lovely, the fwain debonair :
They hugg'd, and they cuddl'd, and talk'd with
their eyes,
And look'd, as all lovers do, wonderful wife.
A fortnight was fpent, ere dear Moggy came too ;
(For maidens a decency keep when they woo) ;
At length fhe confented, and made him a vow :
And Jockey he gave for her jointure his cow.
They pannel'd their dobbins, and rode to the fair;
Still kiffing and fondling until they came there.
They call'd on the parfon, and by him were wed,
And Moggy fhe took her dear Jockey to bed.
They ftaid there a week, as the neighbours all fay.
And none were fo happy and gamefome as they ;
Then home they return'd, but returned moft un^
kind.
For Jockey rode on, and left Moggy behind^
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUEt. f^
Surpris'd at this treatment, fhe cty'd GafFerJock,
Pray what is the reaibn that Moggy you mock ?
Quoth he, Goofe, come on, why you're now my
bride ;
And when volk are wed, they fet fooling afide.
He took home his Moggy, good condu61: to learn^
Who brufti'd up the houfe while he thatch'd the
old barn ;
They laid in a ftock for the cares that eniue,
And now live as man and wife ufually do.
On Friend/hip,
The world, my dear Myra, is full of deceit.
And friendfhip's a jewel we feldom can meet ;
How ftrange doesitfeem, thatinfearching around,
This fource of content is fo rare to be found.
O friendfliip ! thou balm and rich fweetner of life.
Kind parent of cafe, and compofer of ftrife ;
Without thee, alas ! what are riches and pow'r.
But empty delufion, the joys of an hour 'i
How much to be priz'd and efteem'd is a friend^
On whom we may always with fafety depend ;
Our joys w^ien extended, will always increafe,
And griefs, when divided, are hufh'd into peace*
Gt
*'6 THE EDINBURGH SVREN;
When fortune is fmilirig, what crowds will ap^
pear,
Their kindnefs to offer, and friendfhip fmcere ;
Yet change but the profped, and point out d)£r
trefs,
No longer to court you they eagerly prefso
He'tghol that I for Hunger Jhould die I
A VOYAGE over feas had not enter'd my head,
Had I known on which fide to have butter'd my
bread.
Heigho ! fure I — for hunger mud die !
I've fail'd like a booby ; come here in a iquall,
Where alas! there's no bread to be butter'd at all!
Oho ! I'm a terrible booby i
Oh, what a loft mutton am 1 1
JnLondon, what gay chop-houfe figns in the ftrect!
But only the fign here is of nothing to eat.
Heigho ! that I for hunger fiiou'd die !
My mutton's all loft, I'm a poor ftarving elf.
And ail for the world like a loft mutton myfelf.
Oho ! I ftiall die a loft mutton !
Oh, what a loft mutton am I !
For a neat flice of beef, I cou'd roar like a bull,
And my ftomach's fo empty, myheartis quite full,.
Heigho ! that I-— for hunger ftiou'd die !
OR, MUSICAL BOlICiUEt. 7/
■ But grave without meat, I muft here meet my
grave,
Ipor my bacon, I fancy, I never fhall fave.
Oho ! I fliall ne'er lave my bacon I
1 can't fave my bacon, not I !
Duet. Ink/e and Tarlco^
Inkle.
O SAY, fimple maid, have you form'd any notioij.
Of all the rude dangers in crofling the ocean ?
When winds whiftle Ihrilly, ah ! won't they re-
mind you
To figh with regret for the grot left behind you?
Tarlcoi
Ah ! no, I could follow, aiid fail the world over,
Nor think of my grot, when I look at my lover !
The winds which blow round us, your arms for
my pillow,
Will lull us to fleep, whilft we're rock'd by each
billow.
Mle,
** Then fay, lovely kfs, what if haply efpying
A rich gallant veiTel with gay colours flying I
Oi
,fS THi EPINBURGH SYR£i»;
TarioO.
I'll journey with thee, love, to where the land
narrows.
An^ fling all my cares at my back with my ar-
row?."
BofL
O fay then, my true love, we never will funder,
Nor llirink from the tempeft, nor dread the big
thunder ;
Whilft conftant, we'll laugh at all changes of
weather,
And journey all over the world both together.
The general Toajl^
Here's to the maiden of bafhful fifteen,
Likewife to the widow of fifty ;
Here's to the bold and extravagant quean,
And here's to the houfewife that's thrifty.
Let the toad pafs,
Drink to the lafs,
I'll warrant fhe'll prove an excufe for the glafs.
Here's to the maiden whofe dimples we prize,
And likewife to her that has none, Sir,
Here's to the maid with a pair of blue eyes,
And here's to her that's but one, Sin
Let the toaft pafs^ &c.
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. ^9
Here's to the maid with a bofom of fnow.
And to her that's as brown as a berry ;
And here's to the wife with a face full of woe.
And here's to the girl that's merry.
Let the toaft pafs, &c.
Let her be clumfy, or let her be flim,
Young or ancient I care not a feather,
^^0 fill the pint bumper quite up to the brim?
And e'en let us toaft them together.
Let the toaft pafs,
Drink to the lafs,
J'll warrant ftie'U prove an excufe for the glafso
The Blujh of Aurora.
The bUifh of Aurora now tinges the morn,
And dew-drops befpangle the fweet-fcented thorn ;
Then, found, brother fportfman, found, found the
gay horn,
Till Phcebus awakens the day,
And fee, now he rifes in fplendor how bright !
10 Pasan for Pliicebus, the god of delight ;
All glorious in beauty, now vanifh the night,
Then mount, boys, to horfe, and awayo
What raptures can equal the joys of the chace ?
Health, bloom, and contentment appear in each
face,
And in our fwift courfers what beauty and grace,
"Vyhile we the fleet ftag do purfue I
go- THE EDINBURGH SYREN;
At the deep and harmonious cry of the hounds,
Struck by terror, he bur ft s from the foreft's wide
bounds,
And though like the lightning he darts o'er the
grounds,
Yet ftiil boys, we have him in view.
tVhen chac'd till quite fpent, he his life does re»
fign.
Our vidim 1>ye'll offer at Bachus's (hrine,
And revel in honour of Nimrod divine,
That hunter fo mighty of fame :
Our glaffes then charge to our country and king ;
Love and beauty we'll charge to, and jovially
fing,
Wifhing health and fuccefs till we make the houfe
ring,
To all fportfmen and fons of the game !
Hotu imperfeB is ExpreJJlon,
How imperfect is expreffion.
Some emotions to impart ;
When we mean a foft confeffion,
And yet feek to hide the heart 5
When our bofoms, all complying,
With delicious tumults fwell,
And beat, what broken, fault'ring, dyingj
Language woiildj but cannot tell !
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET.
peep confufion's rofy terror,
Quite expreffive, paints my cheek ;
J^{k no more — -behold your error —
Blulhes eloquently fpeak.
What, tho' filent is my anguifii.
Or breath'd only to the air,
Mark my eyes, and as they languifh.
Read what your*s have written there.
O that you could once conceive me !
Once my foul's ftrong feeling view !
Love has nought more fond, believe me ;
Friendftiip nothing half fo true.
From you I am wild, defpairing;
With you, fpeechlefs as I touch ;
This is all that bears declaring,
4.nd, perhaps, declares too much»
As Jure as a Gutic
All you who wou'd wifli to fucceed with a lafs,
Learn how the affair's to be done :
For, if you ftand fooling, and fhy, like an afs.
You'll lofe her, as fure as a gun.
With whining, and fighing, and vows, and all that?
A? far as you pleafe you may run |
§2 THE EDINBURGH SYREN J
She'll hear you, and jeer you, and give you a pat.
But jilt you as fare as a gun.
*ro worfhip, and call her bright goddefs, is fine.
But, mark you the confequence — mum ;
The baggage will think herfelf really divine.
And fcorn you as fure as a giin;
Then be With a maiden, bold, frolic, and ftoiit.
And no opportunity fhun ;
She'll tell you Die hates you, and fwear fhe'll cry
out,
But mum— fhe's as fure as a gun?
The luand'ting Sailon
The wandering failor ploughs the maiilj
A competence in life to gain,
Undaunted braves the ftormy feas.
To find, at leaft, content and eafe ;
In hopes, when toil and danger's o'er,
To anchor on his native fliore.
When winds blow hardj and mountains rollj
And thunders fhake from pole to pole ;
Tho' dreadful waves furrounding foam.
Still flatt'ring fancy wafts him home ;
In hopes, when toil and danger's o'erg
To anchor on his native fhore.
OR, MUSICAL BOUQl/ET, 8^
Wlien round the bowl the jovial crew
The early fcenes of youth renew,
Tho each his fav'rite fair will boaft.
This is the univerfal toaft —
May we, when toil and danger's o'erj
Caft anchor pij our native fliore !
Poor Tom,
Then farewell my trlm-built wherry.
Oars, and coat, and badge, farewell i,
Never more at Chelfea ferry,
Shall your Thomas take a fpell.
But to hope and peace a ftrangerj
In the battle's heat I go;
Where expos'd to ev'ry danger.
Some friendly ball Ihall lay me low.
Then mayhap when homeward fteering,
With the news by mefs-mates come.,
£ven you the ftory hearing,
With a figh may cry — Poor Tom !
SONG. Poor Soldier.
Sleep on, fieep on, my Kathleen dear^j
' ^ay peace pofTefs thy breaft i
gj. THE EBINBURGH SYREN J
Yet dofl thou dream thy true-love's here?
Deprived of peace and reft.
The birds fmg fweet, the morning breaks,
Thefe joys are none to me ;
Tho' fleep is fled, poor Dermot wakes.
To none but love and thee.
V/hatcare we for France or Spahu
Lord, what care we for France or Spain ?
Why, let them rave and bellow :
Since Rodney rules upon the main,
O ! he's a charming fellow.
De Grafle he crow'd like Gallic cock,
And made his cannons bellow ;
But Rodney hit him fuch a knock,
O I he's a charming fellow.
Mynheer he met with, fome time fmcej
Which did his honour fwell-o ;
When Digby with our Royal Prince
Call'd hirn a charming fellow.
Our foes he'll trim, where'er he goes,
Ye bells his glory tell-o-;
France, Spain, and Holland he'll oppofe^.
O what a charming fellow?
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET, 8^
|?rom north to fouth, from eaft to weft.
Our enemies he'll quell-o ;
Of all our admirals he's the beft,
O ! what a charming fellow.
Come, tofs the bumper now around,
Let fame her trumpet fwell-o ;
Wherever Rodney's name is found,
Thsy-ll call him charming felloWo
Brlti/h Tar.
Thus, thus, my boys, our anchor's weighed ^
i^ee Briton's glorious flag difplay'd !
Unfurl the fwelling fail !
Sound, found your fhells, ye Tritons found I
Let ever heart with joy rebound !
We feud before the gale.
See Neptune quits his wat'ry car,
Depos'd by Jove's decree,
Who hails a free-born Britifh tar^,
The fov'reign of the fea.
Now, now we leaVe the land behind^
Our loving wives, and fweethearts kind.
Perhaps to meet no m.ore !
u
86 THE EDINBURGH SYREN 5
Great George commands ; it muil be fo 5
And glory calls ; then let us go i
Nor Ugh a wlih for ihore.
For Neptune, Sec.
A fail a-head, our decks we clear ;
Our canvas crowd ; the chace we're near ;
In vain the Frenchman flies.
A broadfide pour'd through clouds of fmokc,
Oar captain roars— My hearts of oak.
Now draw and board your prize !
For Neptune, Sk,
The fcuppers run with Gallic gore ;
The white flag (Iruck ; monfieur no more
Difputes the Britifh fway.
A prize ! we tow her into port,
And hark ! falutes from ev'ry fort !
Huzza ! my fouls, huzza !
For Neptune, &c.
ir/je Twins of Latona^
The twins of Latona fo kind to my boon,
Arife to partake of the chace ;
And Sol lend a ray to chafte Dian's fair mo
And a fmile to the fniiles of her face.
OKf MUSICAL BOUQUET. 87
For the fport I delight inf the bright Qiieen of
love
With myrtles my brow Ihall adorn.
While Pan breaks his chaimter, and fkulks in the
grove,
Excell'd by the found of the horn.
' The dogs are uncoupl'd, and fweet is their cry,
Yet fweeter the notes of fweet echo's reply ;
Hark forward, hark forward, the game is in view,
But love is the game that I wilh to purfue.
The ftag from his chamber of woodbine peeps out,
His fentence he hears in the gale ;
Yet flies, till entangPd in fear and in doubt.
His courage and conftancy fail.
Surrounded by foes, he prepares for the fray,
Defpair taking place of his fear !
With antlers eredled a while ftands at bay,
Then furrenders his life v,7ith a tear.
The dogs are, &c.
Tally Ho.
Ye fportfmen draw near, and ye fportfwomen too,
Who delight in the joys of the field.
Mankind, tho' they blame, are all eager as you,
And HO one the conteft will yield ;
Hz
IBS THE EDINBURGH SYREN ;
His lordfliip, his worfliip, his honour, his grace,
A hunting continually go,
All ranks and degrees are engag'd in the chace.
With hark forward, huzza ! tally ho.
The lawyer will rife with the firft in the morn.
To hunt for a mortgage or deed,
The hufband gets up at the found of the horn,
And rides to the common full fpeed ;
The patriot is thrown in purfuit of the game.
The poet too often lies low,
Who, mounted on Pegafus flies after Fame,
With hark forward, huzza ! tally ho.
While fearlefs o*er hills, and o'er woodlands we
fweep,
Tho' prudes on our paftimes may frown.
How oft do they decency's bounds o'erleap,
And the fences of virtue break down ?
Thus public, or private, for penfion, for place^
For amufement, for paflion, for fhow,
/111 ranks and degrees are engag'd in the chace|
With hark forward, huzza ! tally ho.
The Sailor^ s Adi
As you mean to fet fail for the land of delight.
And in wedlock's foft hammocks to fwing ev'ry
night,
H 3
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. 89
J£ yoii hope that your voyage fuccefsful (hould
prove,
^"111 your fails v^^ith affe<3:ion, your cabblns with
Jove.
Fill your fails, occ,
XiCt your hearts, like your main-maft, be ever up^
right.
And the union you boaft, like your tackle be tight,
Gf the Ihoals of indiff'rence be fure you keep clear,
And the quickfands of jealoufy never come near.
And the quickfands, &c.
If vapours and whims, like fea-ficknefs prevail,
You muft fpread all your canvas, and catch the
frelh gale ;
But if brifk blows the wind, and there comes a
rough fea.
Then lower your top-fails, and feud under lee.
Then lower, &c.
If hu^ands, you hope to live peaceable lives.
Keep the reck'ning yourfelves, give the helm to
your wives.
For the evener we go, boys, the better we fail.
And on fhipboard the head is ftill ruPd by the tail.
And on fhipboard, &c.
Then liften to your pilot, my boys, and be wife,
If my precepts you fcorn, and my maxims defpife^
H3
90 THE EDINBURGH SVREN ;
A brace of proud antlers your brows may adorn.
And a hundred to one but you double Cap^ Horn,
7 he happy Sollter,
How Happy's the foldier who lives on his pay.
And fpends haif-a-crown out of fixpence a-day ;
Yet fears neither juftice, warrants, nor bums,
But pays all his debts with the roll of his drumo
With a row-de-dow, &c.
He cares not a marvedy how the world goes.
His king finds him quarters, and money, an4
clothes ;
He laughs at all forrow whenever it comes.
And rattles away with the roll of the drum.
With a row-de-dow, &c.
The drum is his glory, his joy, and delight.
It leads him to pleafure, as well as to fight ;
No girl when llie hears it, tho' ever fo gtum, -
But packs up her tatters and follows the drum.
With a row-de-dow, &c.
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET* ^I
Balynamono* Ora>
you know I'm your prieft and your confcience is
mine.
But if you grow wicked, 'tis not a good fign,
So leave off your racking and marry a wife,
And then, my dear Darby, you're fettl'd for life.
Sing Baliynamono Oro,
A good merry wedding for me.
The bans being publifli'd, to chapel we go,
The bride and bridegroom in coats white as fnow,
So modeft her air, and fo fheepifh your look,
You out with your ring, and I pull out my book,
Sing Baliynamono, &c.
I thumb out the place, and I then read away.
He blufhes at love, and fhe whifpers obey.
You take her dear hand to have and to holdp
I Ihut up my book, and I pocket your gold»
Sing Baliynamono, &c.
That fnug little guinea for me.
The neighbours wifh joy to the bridegroom and
bride.
The pipers before us march fide by fide ;
A plentiful dinner gives mirth to each face ;
The piper plays up, myfelf 1 fay the grace.
Sing Baliynamono, &c.
A good wedding dinner for rne>
gZ THE EDINBURGH SYREN 5
The joke now goes round, and the ftockmg 15
thrown ;
The curtains are drawn, and you're both left a^
alone ;
'Tis then my good boy, I believe you at home.
And hy for a chrift'ning at nine months to come^
Sing Ballynamono, &c.
A good merry chrill'ning for me.
Palty Clover.
When little on the village green
We play'd, I learn'd to love her;
She feem d to me fome fairy queen.
So light tripp'd Patty Clover.
With ev'ry fimple childiili art
I try'd each day to move her ;
The cherry pluck'd the bleeding Heart,
To give to Patty Clover.
The faireft flow'rs to deck her breaft,
I chofe — an infant lover ;
\ ftole the goldfinch from its neft,
To give to Patty Clover.
OR, MlfSlCAl. BOUQUET. 93
Song,
X sail'd in the good fhip Kitty,
With a ftifF blowing gale and rough fea,
Left Polly the lads call fo pretty,
Safe here at anchor, yo yea, yo yea, yo yea,
yo yea, yo yea.
She blubber'd fait tears when we parted,
And cry'd, now be conftant to me ;
I told her not to be dov/n-hearted,
So up with the anchor, yo yea.
When the wind whiftl'd larboard and {larboard.
And the ftorm came on weather and lee.
The hope I with her ftiould be harbour'd.
Was my cable and anchor, yo yea.
And yet, my boys, would you believe me,
I return'd with no rhino from fea ;
^ly Polly wou'd never receive me.
So again I heav'd anchor, yo yea.
The Bowmen of the Border.
Where Tweed and Teviot ftream-s unitCi
And flow in focial order ;
1 fmg with no unmeaning flight,
The bowmen of the border.
In Kelf'^ form'd on focial plan.
The band that rivets man to man,
Each gallant bowman's enter'd,
Where humour, wit, and fenfe combine,,
94 '^'■E EDINBURGH SYREN ;
To lend their aid, with gen'rous wine,
In' thefe true joys are center'd.
Long, long renown'd, for fame and fkillj
By Time that old recorder ;
Where Scotia's fons, the foe to kill,
By bowmen of the border.
Of high renown, in days of yore,
A noble bowman ilood, Sir ;
Ulyffes, fam'd in claffic lore,
Whofe bow no man withftood. Sir :
Fam'd Robin Hood, and little John,
And many a brave and gallant fon,
Who drew the twanging yew, Sir ;
But Robin Hood, nor little John,
Nor any who the target won.
Were archers e^er more true. Sir.
Long, long renown'd, &c.
. Nor lefs to fight their country's caufe.
The band of bowmen came, Sir ;
Proteiflors of its valu'd laws,
As well as kill the game, Sir,
Oh, let me for a moment dwell.
On that bold archer William Tell*,
Who gave his country freedom.
And be this theme, our conftant toaft.
May we an equal virtue boaft.
To ufe ours when we need 'em.
Long, long renown'd, for fame and fkill,
The firft in martial order.
Be Scotia's fons, their foe to kill,
By bowmen of the border. \
* The Switfiro
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUETo 95'
H'be Plough Boy*
A. FLAXEN-lieaded cow boy,
As fimple as may be.
And next a merry plough boy,
I whiftied o'er the lea :
But now a faucy footman,
I ftrut in worfted lace.
And foon I'll be a butler,
And wag my jolly face.
When fteward I'm promoted,
1 11 fnip a tradefman's bill.
My mafter's coffers empty.
My pockets for to iill :
When loUin? in mv chariot.
So great a man I'll be,
You'll forget the little plongh-boy
That whifiled o'er the lea.
Ill buy votes at eledlions,
But when I've made the pelf^
I'll ftand poll for parliament, "
And then vote in myfelf :
Whatever's good for me, Sir,
I never will oppofe ;
When all my ayes are fold oiF,
V/hy, then 111 fell my noes.
Ill joke, harangue, and paragraphj
With fneechcs charra the ear^
^6- THE EDINBURGH SYREM 5
And when I'm tir'd on my legs.
Then 111 fit down a peer.
In court or city honour.
So great a man Pll be.
You'll forget the little plough boy
That whiftl'd o'er the lea.
The Miller.
Merry may the maid ht
That marries the miller.
For foul day and fair day
He's ay bringing till her;
Has ay a penny in his purfe
For dinner and for fupper :
And gin ye pleafe, a good fat cbeefc.
And lumps of yellow butter.
When Jamie firft did woo me,
I fpier'd what was his calling ;
Fair maid, fays he, O come and fee,
Ye're welcome to my dwelling :
Though I was fhy, yet I cou'd fpy.
The truth of what he told me.
And that his houfe was warm and contis,
And room in it to hold me.
Behind the door a bag of meal.
And In the kid vras plenty ;
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. 9^
Of good hard cakes his mlther bakes.
And bannocks were na fcanty ;
A good fat fow, and fleeky cow
Was ftanding In the byre ;
Whilft lazy pufs -with meally moufe,
Was playing at the fire.
Good figns are thefe, my mither fays,
And bids me tak the miller ;
For foul day and fair day,
He's ay bringing till her ;
For meal and ma't Ihe does na want,
Nor ony thing that's dainty :
And now and then a keckling hen
To lay her eggs in plenty.
In winter when the wind and rain
Blaws o*er the houfe and byre.
He fits befide a dean hearth ftane,
Before a roufmg fire ;
With nut-brown ale, he tells his tale.
Which rows him o'er fou nappy ;
Who'd be a king ? — a petty thing.
When a miller lives fo happy.
Totterdoivn-hilL
At Totterdown-hill there dwelt aa old pairj
And it may be they dwell there ftill,
Much riches indeed did not fall to their fhar^;,.
The/ kept a fmall farm and a mill.
I
^8 THE EDINBURGH SYREN }
But fully content with what thej did gety
They knew not of guile nor of arts ;
One daughter they had, her name it was Bet,;
And Ihe was the pride of their hearts.
Nut-brown were her locks, her fliape itwasftraight.
Her eyes were as black a jfloe :
Her teeth w^ere milk-white,, full fmart was her
gait,
And fleek was her fkin as a doe i
All thick were the clouds, and the lain it did pour.
No bit of blue (ky could be fpy'd,
A child, wet and cold^ came and knock'd at the
door.
Its mam it had loft, and it cry'd.
Young Bet was as mild as the mornings of May,
The babe ftie hugg'd clofe to her breaft ;
She chaPd him all o'er, and fmiFd as he lay.
She kifs'd him and lull'd him to reft ;
But who do you think ffte had got for her prize ?
Why Love, the fly mafter of arts !
No fooner he wak'd, but he dropp'S his difgulfe.
And fhew'd her his wings and his darts.
Quoth he, I am Love ; but, ohy be not afraidj
Tho' all I may fhake at my will ;
So good and kind have you been, my fair maid.
No harm ftiall you feel from my fkill ;
My mother ne'er dealt with fuch fondnefs by me,
A friend you fhall find in me ftill ;
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. 99
"Take my quiver and fhoot, be greater than flie.
The Venus of Totterdown-hiiL
'Johnny and Mary,
Down the burn, and thro' the mead,
His golden locks wav'd o'er his brow^
Johnny lilting tun'd his reed,
And Mary wip'd her bonny mou'.
Dear fhe loo'd the well known fongj
While her Johnny, bhthe and bonny,
Sung her praife the whole day long,
Down the burn, &c.
Coftlv claithes flie had but few,
Of rings and jewels nae great ftorej
Her face was fair, her love was true,
And Johnny wifely wifli'd no more 5
Love s the pearl, the flaepherd's prize.
O'er the mountain, near the fountain.
Love delights the fhepherd's eyes.
Down the burn, &c.
Gold and title gives not health,
And Johnny could nae thefe impart ;
Youthful Mary's greateft wealth.
Was ftill her faithful Johnny's heart ;
F^weet the joys the lovers find !
I2
'"SOO THE EDINBURGH SYREM 5
Great the treafure, fweet the pleafur^
Where the heart Is always kind.
Down the burn, &c.
Lajl Time I came o'er the Muir,
ThI: laft time I came o'er the muirj
I left my love behind m^e !
Ye pow'rs I what pain do I endure.
When foft ideas mind me ?
Soon as the ruddy morn difplay'd
The beaming day enfuing,
I met betimes my lovely maid^
In fit retreats for wooing,
Ibeneath the cooling fiiade we lay^
Gazing and chaftly and fporting %
We kifs'd and promis'd time away,
Till night fpread her black curtain.
I pitied all beneath the fkies,
Ev'n king's when fhe was nigh mCj
In raptures I beheld her eyes,
Which could but ill deny me.
Should I be call'd where cannons roar,,
Where mortal fteel may wound me.
Or caft upon fome foreign fhore,
Where dangers may furround me :-
Yet hopes again to fee my love,
To feaft on glowing kifles.
r
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. lOl
Shall make my care at dlftance movcj
In profpeft of fuch blifles.
In all my foul tliere's not one place
To let a rival enter ;
Since flie excels in ev'ry grace,
In her my love fhall center^
Sooner the feas lliall ceafe to flow,
Their waves the Alps fhall cover,
On Greenland's ice fhall rofes grow.
Before I ceafe to love her.
The next time I gang oe'r the mulr.
She fhall a lover find me ;
And that my faith is firm and pure,
Tho' I left her behind me ;
Then Hymen's facred bands fhall chaii^
My heart to her fair bofom ;
There, while my being does remain.
My love more frefh fhall bloffom.
Tweed-fide,
What beauties does Flora difclofe ?
How fweet are her fmiles upon Tweed I
Yet Mary's flill fweeter than thofe ;
Both nature and fancy exceed.
Nor daify, nor fweet-blufhing rofe^
Nor all the gay flow'rs of the fields
402 THE EDINBURGH SYRl?f;
Nor Tweed gliding gently thro' thofe^
Such beauty and pleafure does yield.
The warblers are heard in the grove,
The linnet, the lark, and the thruih.
The blackbird and fweet cooing dove.
With mufic enchant ev'ry bufh.
Come, let us go forth to the mead,
Let us fee hov/ the primrofes fpring ;
We'll lodge in fome village on Tweed,
And love while the feather'd folks {\d^.
How does my love pafs the long day ?
Does Mary not keep a few llieep ?
Do they never carelefsly ftray.
While happily flie lies afleep !
Tweed's murmurs Ihould lull her to reft :
Kind nature indulging my blifs.
To relieve the foft pains of my breaft,
I'd fteal an ambrofial kifs.
^Tis flie does the virgins excels
No beauty with her may compare j
Love's graces around her do dwell.
She's faireft, where thoufands are fair.
Say, charmer, v/here doth thy flocks ftray ?
Oh ! tell me at noon where they feed ;
Shall I feek them on fweet winding Tay,
, Or the pleafant banks of the Tweed ?
OR, MUSICAL BOUC^ET. IO5
Song. ^aker»
While the lads in the village fhall merrily ahj
Sound their tabors, I'll lead thee along.
And I will fay unto thee, that merrily ah,
Thou and I will be the firft in the throng.
Jull then, when the youth who laft year won the
dow'r,
And his mate fhall the fports have begun,
When the gay voice of gladnefs refounds from
its bow'r
And thou long 'ft in thy heart to make one-,
While the lads, &c.
Tho{*ejoysthatareharmlefswhatmortalcanblame ?
'Tis my maxim that youth ihould be free ;
And to prove that my words and my deed are the
fame.
Believe thou fhalt prefently fee,
While the lads. Sec.
The Loves of John and j^ear
Sing the loves of John and Jean,
Sing the loves of Jean and John 5
John for her would leave a queen,
Jean, for him, th,- nobleft don.
She's his queen,
He's her don ;
f04 THE EDINBURGH SYREN 5
John loves Jean,
And Jean loves John.
Whatever rejoices happy Jean
Is fure to burft the fides of John,
Does fhe, for grief, look thin and lean^
Jie inftantly is pale and wan ;
Thin and lean.
Pale and wan,
John loves Jean,
And Jean loves John.
*Twas the lilly hand of Jean
Fill'd the glafs of happy John ;
And, heavens ! how joyful was fhe feen
When he was for a licence gone I
Joyful feen,
They'll dance anon,
For John weds Jean,
And Jean weds John.
John has ta'en to wife his Jean,
Jean's become the wife of John„
She no longer is his queen,
He no longer is her don.
No more queen.
No more don ;
John hates Jean,
And Jean hates John.
Whatever it is that pleafes Jep.n,
Is certain now to difpleafe John i
OR, MUSICAL B0UC2UET. lO^
With fcolding theyVe grown thin and lean,
With fpleen and fpite they're pale and wan.
Thin and lean,
Pale and wan,
John hates Jean,
And Jean hates John*
John prays heaven to take his Jean,
Jean at the devil wilhes John ;
He'll dancing on her grave be feen.
She'll laugh when he is dead and gone,
They'll gay be feen.
Dead and gone,
For John hates Jean,
And Jean hates John,
I
Bold Jack
While up the Ihrouds the failor goes,
Or ventures on the yard.
The landman, who no better know^
Believes his lot is hard;
But Jack with fmlles each danger meets,
Carts anchor, heaves the log.
Trims all the fails, belays the fheets,
And drinks his can of grog.
When mountains high the waves that fwell
The vellel rudely bear,
^q6 the EDINBURGH SYREN ;
Now finking In a hollow dell.
Now .quiv'ring in the air,
Bold Jack, &c.
When waves 'gainft rocks and quickfands roar.
You ne'er hear him repine,
Freezing near Greenland's icy fhore.
Or burning near the line;
Bold Jack, &c.
If to engage they give the word.
To quarters all repair,
While fplinter'd mafts go by the board,
And Ihot fing thro' the air.
Bold Jack, &c.
The poor old Woman of eighty.
How kind and how good of his dear majefty,
In the midil of his matters fo weighty.
To think of fo lowly a creature as me,
A poor old woman of eighty.
Were your fparks to come round me, in love with
each charm,
Say I have nothing to fay t'ye ;
I can get a young fellow to keep my back warm*
Tho' a poor old v^'oraan of eighty.
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. IO7
John SLrong is as comely a lad as you'll fee.
And one that will ne'er fay nay t'ye ;
I cannot but think what a comfort he'll be
To me, an old woman of eighty.
Then fear not, ye fair ones, tho' long paft your
youth,
You'll have lovers in fcores beg and pray t'ye^
Only think of my fortune, who have but one tootlv,
A poor old woman of eighty.
r
Poor Tanko.
When Yanko, dear, fight far away.
Some token kind me fend ;
One branch of olive, for dat fay
Me v/ifh de battle end.
The poplar tremble while him go,
Say of dy life take care,
Me fend no laurel, for me know
Of dat he find no fhare.
De ivy fay my heart be true.
Me droop, fay willow tree,
De torn he fay me frck for you,
De fun-flower, tink of me.
Till laft me go v/eep wid de pin^t;
For fear poor Yanko dead 3
ioS THE EDINBURGH SYREN J,
He come, and I de myrtle twine,
In chaplet for him head.
A Bedof Mofs.
A BED of mofs we'll ftraight prepare,
WJiere near him gently creeping,
We'll pat his cheeks, and ftroke his hair.
And watch him while he's lleeping.
Sweet flowers of every fcent and hue,
Pinks, violets, and rofes.
And blooming hyacinths we'll ftrew,
As fweetly he repofes.
And we'll wnth fond emotion flart.
And while, with admiration.
We foftly feel his fluttering heart
Partake its palpitation.
The Lanvyer''s Life.
By roguery 'tis true,
I opulent grew,
Juft like any other profeffional fmner ;
An orphan, d'ye fee,
Would jurt wafli down my tea,
And a poor friendlefs widow would ferve me for
dinner.
CRj MUSICAL, BOUQUET, ig(:
I \vas to be fnre,
Of the helplefs and poor
A guardian appointed to manage the pelf ;
And I manag'd it well,
But how — fay you — ^teil ?
Wliy I let them ail ftarve to take care of rnyili':
With thefe tricks I went on,
Till, faith fir, anon,
A parcel of ftupid, mean-fpirited fouls, .
As they narrowly v/atch d mc.
Soon at mj tricks catch'd me.
And, i.n their own words, haul'd me over the con;-
In the pillory, that fate
For rogues foon or late,
I flood, for the fport of a diffolute mob ;,
Till mj neck rnafter Ketch
Was fo eager to (Iretch^
That I gave up the thing as a dangerouc Job.
Now a wolf—from, their dams
T (leal plenty of lambs,
PamperM highj and well {ed — an infp^tiable gluttOi , .
In much the fame fphere
When a m^, I move here,
Make and break laws at pleafure, and kill my ow^n
mutton.-
Then fmce, for their fport,
No one here moves the courts
Nor am I amenable to an employer,
I fhall for ever prefer,
With your leave, my good fir,
The life of a wolf to the life of a lawyer^
t K
ll» THE EDINBURGH SYREN |
The Teiloiv-halr^ d Laddie*
In April, when primrofes paint the fweet plain^
And fummer approaching rejoiceth the fwain ;
The yellow-hair'd laddie would oftentimes go
To wilds and deep glens where the hawthorn-trees
grow.
There, under the fhade of an old facred thorn,
With freedom he fung his love's evening and morn ;
He fang with fo faft and enchanting a found, ,
That fylvans and fairies unfeen danc'd around.
The Ihepherd thus fung, Tho' young Maya be fair,
Her beauty is dalli'd with a fcornfu' proud air ;
But Sufie was handfome, and fweetly could fmg ;
Her breath, like the breezes, perfum'd in the
fpring.
That Madie, in all the gay charms of her youth,
jLike the moon was inconftant, and never fpoke.
truth; -•
But Sufie was faithful, good humourM, and free.
And fair as the goddefs that fprung from the fea.
That mamma's fine daughter, with all her great;
dov/'r, '
Was awkwardly airy, and frequently four ;
Then, fighing, he wifh'd, would parents agree^ •
The witty fweet Sufie his miftrefs might be, ^.
•R, MUSICAL BOU^ET, HI
U^otnati for Man,
i Wine, wine we allow the brifk fountain of mirtli.
It frights away care, and gives jollity birth ;
Yet, while we thus freely great Bacchus approve.
Let's pay the glad tribute to Venus and Love ;
For do what you will, nay, or fay what you can,
"Who loves not a woman, the wretch is not man.
To the charms of the fex, let us cheerful refign
Our youth andour vigour, they'rebetterthanvvanc;
There's merit, I own, in a gay fparkling glais,
But can it compare with a lovely kind lafs ?
No, it cannot compare, you may fay what you can.
Who prefers not a woman, the wretch is not man.
The enchantments of beauty what force can repel?
The eye's pow'rful magic, the bofom's foft Iwell,
The look fo endearing, the kind melting kifs,^
The enjoyments of love are all raptures of blifs ;
Then who woman refufes rejeds nature's plan.
He may fay what he will, but the wretch is no
man.
May fcandal, misfortune, and direful difgrace, .
Be the portion of all th' effeminate race ;
Like Britain, what nation on earth can they find
Whofe nymphs are fo fair, fo inviting and kind ?
Then who woman refufes rejefts nature's plan,
May they fuffer like brutes, nor be pity'd by maft.
Kz
ili THE EDINBURGH GYREN' J
From a ftriking example my moral iliall iprii.g,
Who'd adt like a man, let him copy his king ^
Like George in his youth, the gay fpring-tide of
life,
Let ever/ good fellow now take him a wife.
Wlien by Hymen you're blefs'd, reft fecurely, for
then
You'll have nothing to do but to prove yoiirfelves
men* • - ' '
^Tis a Hujband I ni2an<,
When flrll a maid v/ithin her bread.
Perceives the fubtile flame.
She finds a fomething break her reft.
Yet knows not whence it came.
A hufband 'tis Ihe wants.
Now riper grown, at fight of man.
Her fwelling bofom glows ;
Old maids, may fay, the fex trepanj
But Mifs much better knows.
A hufband *tis Ihe wants.
If pale and wan the drooping fair
Seems fmking in her grave ;
In vain is medicinal care,
'Tis this alone can fave,
A hufband 'tis I mean...
OR, MUSICAL BOU<^ET. II3
Let maidens ftale their doctrine preach
'Gainft what Hke ils they love ;
For, truft me, they the fame would teach.
If they the fame could have.
A hufband 'tis I mean.
Then on, dear girls, and boldly prove
There's truth in what I fay :
Let Hymen take the torch of love.
And gild each happy day.
A hufband 'tis I mean.
Broom of Coivdenknonvs,
When fummer comes, the fwains on Tweed
Sing their fuccefsful loves,
Around the ewes and lambkins feed,
and mufic fills the groves.
But my lov'd fong is then the broom
So fair on Cowdenknows ;
For fure fo fweet, fo foft a bloom
Elfewhere there never grows.
There Colin tun'd his oaten reed,
and won my yielding heart :
No (hepherd e'er that dwelt on Tweed
Cou'd play v.'ith half fuch art.
K3
114 THE EDINBURGH SYREN ;
He fling of Tay, of Forth, and Clyde,
The hilis and dales around,
Of Leaderliaughs and Leaderfide,
Oh ! how I blefs'd the found. '
Yet more deiightfal is the brooni«>
So fair on Cowdenknows ;
For fare fo frefh, fo bright a bloom
Elfewhere there never grows.
Not Tiviot braes, fo green and gay^
May with this broom compare,
Nor Yarrow banks in flow'ry May^
Nor buih aboon Traqu air-
More pleafmg far are Cowdenknows^
My peaceful happy home,
Where I was won't to milk my ewes
At e'en among the broom.
Ye pcw'rs that haunt the woods and plain
Where Tweed and Tiviot flows.
Convey me to the beft of fwains.
And my lov'd Cowdenknowsj,
Oft, MUSICAL BOUQUET. II5
Birks of In'vermay.
The fmiling morn, the breathing fpring.
Invite the tunefu' birds to fmg ;
And while they warble from each fpray.
Love melts the univerfal lay ;
Let us, Amanda, timely wife.
Like them improve the hour that flies,
And in faft raptures wafte the day
Amang the bir!.s of Livermay.
For foon the winter of the year.
And age, life's winter, will appear ;
At this thy lively bloom will fade.
As that v/ill ftrip the verdant (hade ;
Our tafle of pleafure then is o'er.
The feather'd fongfters pleafe no more j
And v/hen they droop and we decay.
Adieu the birks of Invermay.
The lav'rocks now and lintwhites fmg,
The rocks around wi' echoes ring,
The mavis and the blackbird vie
In tunefu' ftrains to glad the day ;
The woods now wear their fummer-fults,
To mirth a' nature now invites ;
Let us be blythfome then, and gay,
Amang the birks of Invermay.
Behold, the hills and vales around
With lowing herds and flocks aboimd j
tl6 THE EDINBURGH SYREH I
The wanton kids and frilking lambs
Gambol and dance about their dams ;
The bufy bee with humming noife.
And a' the reptile kind rejoice ;
Let us like them, then fmg and play^
About the birks of Invermay.
Hark, how the waters, as they fa',
Loudly my love to gladnefs ca' ;
The wanton waves fport in the beams,
And fifhes play throughout the ftreams j
The circling fun does now advance.
And all the planets round him dance 5
Let us as jovial be as they
Amang the birks of Invermay.
Doivn the Burn, Davie,
When trees did bud, and fields were green,
and broom bloom'd fair to fee ;
"When Mary was complete fifteen.
And love laugh'd in her ee' ;
Blyth Davie's blinks her heart did move
To fpeak her mind thus free,
** Gang down the burn, Davie, love,
« And I will follow thee."
Now Davie did each lad furpafs
That dwelt on this burn-fide^
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. II7
And Mary was the bonnieft lafs,
Juit meet to be a bride ;
Her cheeks were rofie, red, aud whke,
Her een were bonny blue :
Her looks were like Aurora bright,
Her lips like dropping dew.
As down the burn they took their ways
What tender tales they faid !
His cheek to her's he aft did lay,
And with her bofom play'd ;
Till baith at length impatient grown, \
To be mair fully bleft,
In yonder vale they leaned them down 5
Love only faw the reft.
."■^ What pafs'd, I guefs, was harmlefs play,
*' And nae thing fure unmeet ;
^' For ganging hame I heard them fay,
" They lik'd a wa'k fae fweet :
'* And that they aften fhou'd return
" Sik pleafure to renew ;
f^ Quoth Mary, Love, I like the burn,
" And ay iliall follow you.'*
Ettr'ick Banh
On Ettrick banks, in a Summer's night,
At gloming when the fheep drave hame^
I met my laffie braw and tight,
Come wading barefoot a' her lane :
Il8 THE EDINBURGH SYREN I
My heart grew light,. I ran, I flang
My arms about her Illy neck,
And kifs'd and clapt her there fou lang,
My words they were na mony feck.
I faid, my laffie, will ye go '
To the Highland hills, the Erl'e to learn !
I'll baith gi' thee a cow and ewe.
When we come to the brig of Earn.
At Leith auld n;eal comes in, ne'er falli,
An' herrings at the. Broomy Law,;
Cheer up your heart, my bonny lafs.
There's gear to win we never faw.
All day when vie have A^rought enough^
When winter frofts, and fnaw begin;
Soon a^ the fun gaes waft the loch,
At night when y.e fit down to fpin, .
I'll fcrew my pipes, and play a fpring ;
And thus the weary night we'll end,-
Till the tender kid and lamb-time bring
Our pleafant Summer back again.
Syne when the trees are In their blpom,
And gowans glent o'er ilka field,
I'll meet my lafs amang the broom, ^
. And lead you to my Summer (hield.
Then far frae a' their fcorntu din,
That mak the kindly heart their fport.
We'll laugh, and kifs, and dance, and fmg,
And gar the langeft day feem fhort.
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. Up
The unhappy Maid.
Farewell ye green fields and fweet grovess
Where Strephon engaged my poor heart :
Where nightingales warble their throats,
And nature is drefs'd-without art ;
No pleafure they now can afford, •
< Nor miific can lull me to reft ;
For Strephon proves falfe to his word.
And Phillis can never be bleft.
Oft times, by the fide of a fpring,
• Where r6fes and lilies appear,
Gay Strephen of Phillis would fmg.
For Phillis was all he held dear ;
So foon as he found by my eyes
The paffion that glow'd in my breaft,
He then to my grief and furprife,
Proved all he had faid was a jeft.-
Too foon, to my forrow I find
The beauties alone that will lafi:
Are thofe that are fix'd in the mind,
Which envy, nor time, cannot blaft :
Beware then, ye fair, how ye truft
The fool who to love makes pretence;
For Strephon to me had been juft,
^ If nature had bleft him v,dth fenfe!
IZ^ THE EDINBURGH SYREX ;
Nancy and the Miller.
One midfammer morning, when nature look' d gar,
The birds full of fong, and the flocks full of play ;
When earth feera'd to anfwer the fmiles from a-
bove,
And all things proclaim'd it a feafon of love ;
My mother cry'd, Nancy, come, hafte to the mill.
If the corn be not ground you mayfcold if you will.
The freedom to ufe my tongue pleas'd me no
doubt ;
A woman, Alas ! would be nothing vrithout z
I went towards the mill without any delay,
And conn'd o'er the words I determin'd to fay,
But Vv^hen I came near it, I found it flock ftill,
Blefsmy ftars now! cry'd I, huifhim rarely I wir^
The miller to market that inftant was gone,
The work it was left to the care of his fon :
Now tho' I can fcold as well as any one can,
I thought 'twould be WTong to fcold the young
man:
I faid, I'm furpris'd you can ufe me fo ill,
I muft have my corn ground, I muft and I will.
Sweet maid, cry'd the youth, the fault is not mine,
No corn in the town I'd grind fooner than thine j
There's none more ready in pleafmg the fain
The mill fhall go merrily round I declare.
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. 125
But hark how t^e birds fmg, and fee how they
• bill, '
1 muft have a kifs firft, I muft ^nc| I will.
My corn being done, I towards home bent mj
way^
He whifper'd he'd fomething of moment to fay?
Infifted to hand me along the green meadj
And there fwore he lov'd me indeed, and indeed!
And that he'd be conftant and true to me ftill,
And fmce that time I've lik'd him, and hke him I
will.
I often fay. Mother, the miller I'll huff.
She laughs and cries. Go; girl, ay, plague hip
enough ;
And fcarce a day pafles, but by her defire,
i get a fly kifs from the youth I admire.
If wedlock he wiihes, his wifli I'l fulfil,
And I'll anfwer, O yes, v/ith a hearty goodwill.
Kate of Aberdeen.
The filver moon's enamour'd beam
Steals foftly through the night,
To wanton with the winding ftreams
' And kifs refleding light ;
122 THE EDINBURGH SYREN;
To courts be gone, heart -foothing ileep^
Where you've fo feldom been.
While I May's wakeful vigils keep
With Kate of Aberdeen,
The nymphs and fwains ej:pe<5lant "vvaitj
In primrofe chaplets gay,
Till morn unbars her golden gate.
And gives the promised May ;
The nyrnphs and fwains {hall all declare
The promis'd May, when feen.
Not half fo fragrant, half fo fair.
As Kate of Aberdeen.,
I'll tune my pipe to playful notes,
And roufe yon nodding grovcj
Till new-wak'd birds diflend their throats.
And hail the maid I love :
At her approach the lark miftakes,
And quits the new drefs'd green :
Fond birds, 'tis net the morning breaks,
'T'lS Kate of Aherdi-en.
Now blythfome o'er the df\vj mead.
Where elves difportive play,
The feftal dance young fhepherds lead,
Or fmg their love-tun'd lay.
Till May in morning^robe draws nigh,
And claims a virgin queen ;
The nymphs and fwains exulting cry,
'' Here's Kate cf AherdeivJ'
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. 12^
Through the Wood, Laddie.
O Sandy! Why leav'il thou thy Nelly to mourn!
Thy prefence could eafe me,
When nothing can pleafe me ;
Now dowie I figh on the banks of the burn,
Or thro* the wood, laddie, until thou return.
Tho* woods now are bonny, and mornings are
clear,
>: While lav'rocks are fmging.
And primrofes fpringing,
Yet nane of them pleafe s mine eye or mine ear,
When thro' the wood, laddie, ye dinna appear.
That I am forfaken fome fpare not to tell,
I'm fafli'd with their fcorning,
Baith evVmg and morning,
Their jeering gaes aft to my heart wi' a knell,
When thro' the wood, laddie, I wander myfelL
Then (lay, my dear Sandy, no longer away,
But quick as an arrow,
Hafte here to thy marrow,
Wha's living in langour till that happy day.
When thro* the wood, laddie, we'll dance, fmg,
and play.
Ls
It^ THE EDINBURGH SYREr^:
Broom of CoivJenlnoivA
How blithe was I each morn to fee
My fwain come o'er the hill !
He leap'd the brook and flew to me ;
I met him with good will.
Oh ! the broom, the bonny broom^
Where loft was my repofe ;
I wifh I were with my dear fwain>
With his pipe and my ewes.
I neither wanted ewe nor lambji
When his flocks near me lay ;
He gather'd in my flieep at nightji
And cheer'd me all the day.
Oh ! the broom, &c«
He tun'd his pipe and reed fo fweet,
The birds flood lift'ning by ;
The fleecy flock flood ftill and gaz'd,
Charm'd with his melody.
Oh! the broom, &c.
While thus we fpent our time, by turns.
Betwixt our flocks and play,
I envy'd not the faireft dame.
The' e'er fo rich and gay.
Oh! the broom, &c>
He did oblige me every hour :
Cou'd I but faithful be ?
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. I25
He ftole my heart, could I refufe
Whate'er he alk*d of me ?
Oh! the broom, &c.
Hard fate! that I muft banifn'd be,
Gang heavily and mourn,
Becaufe I lov'd the kindeft fwain,
That ever yet was born.
Oh! the broom, &c.
When War^s Alarms.
When 'wars alarms intic'd my Willy from me,
My poor heart with grief did figh,
Each fond remembrance brought frefh forrow o:
me,
'Woke e'er yet the morn M^rts nigh.
No other could delight him ;
Ah ! why did I ere flight him !
Coldly anfw'ring his fond tale,
Which drove him far, nniid the rage of war.
And left filly me thus to bewail.
But I no longer, tlio' a maid forfaken.
Thus will mourn like yonder dove,
For ere the lark to-morrow ihalt av/aken,"
I will feek my abfent love,
The holtile country over,
I'll fly to feek my lover.
JZ6 THE BDIMBURGH SYRENJ
Scorning ev'ry threat'nlng fear,
Nor diftant fhore, nor cannons roar.
Shall longer keep me from my dear.
^mynta^
My fheep I neglefled, I loft my fKeep-fiook-j
And all the gay haunts of my youth I forfook ;
Nae mair for Amynta frefh garlands I wove,
For ambition I faid, would foon cure me of love<
O what had my youth with ambition to do ?
Why left I Amynta? why broke I my vow ?
O gi' me my ftieepj and my (heep-hook reftore,
I'll wander frae love and Aroynta no more.
Thro' regions remote in vain do I rove,
And bid the wide ocean fecure me from lore!
O fool to imagine that ought can fubdue
A love fo well-founded, a paffion fo true,
O v/hat had my youth, &c.
Alas ! 'tis o'er late at thy fate to repine ;
Poor fliepherd, Amynta nae mair can be thine :
Thy tears are a' fruitlefs, thy willies are vain,.
The moments neglecled return nae again.
O what had my youth with ambition to do ?
"Why left I Amynta ? why broke I mj vow :
O gi' me my fheep, and my fheep-hook leftore,
Vl\ wander fras love and Amyntci v.o more.
fcR, MUSICAL BOUQilET. %Z^
Braes of Ballendm,
Beneath a green fhade, a lovely young fwain
One ev'ning reclin'd, to difcover his pain ;
So fad yet fo fweetly he warbled his woe,
The wind ceas'd to breathe, and the fountains to
flow;
Rude winds, wi* compafllon, cou*d hear him com-
plain.
Yet Chlocj lefs gentle, was deaf to his ftrain.
How happy, he cry'd, my moments once flew,
E'erChloe's bright charms firft flafh'd in my view;
Thofe eyes then, wi* pleafure, the dawn could
furvey,
Nor fmiPd the fair morning, mair chearfu' than
they;
Now fcenes of diflrcfs pleafe only my fight,
I'm tortur'd in pleafure, and languifh in light.
Thro* changes, in vain, relief I purfuc.
All, all but confpire my griefs to renev/ ;
From funfnine to zephyrs and fhades we repair.
To funfhine we fly from too piercing an air :
But love's ardent fever burns always the fame ;
No v/inter can cool it, no fummer inflame.
But fee the pale moon, all clouded, retires,
The breezes grow cool, not Strephon's defires;
128 THE EDINBURGH S^REN;
I fly from the dangers of tempeft and wind.
Yet nourifh the madnefs that preys on my mmd ^
Ah, wretch ! how can life be worthy thy care ?
To lengthen its moments but lengthens defpain
Highland ^een*
No more my fong fhall be, ye fwains,
Of purling ilreams, or flow'ry plains ;
More pleafmg beauties me infpire,
And Phoebus tunes the warbling lyre ;
Divinely aided, thus 1 mean
To celebrate my Highland Queen.
In her fweet innocence you'll find.
With freedom, truth, and beauty join'd |
From pride and affeftation free.
Alike Ihe fmiles on you and me.
The brighteft nymph that trips the green.^
I do pronounce my Highland Queen,
No fordid wifh, or trifling joy.
Her fettled calm of mind deftroy ;
Strid honour fills her fpotlefs foul.
And add s a luftre to the whole ;
A matchlefs fhape, a graceful meiov
All centre in my Higland Queen« '
@R, MUSICAL BOUCiUET. l^2[
How bleft that youth, whom gentle fate
Has deftin'd for fo fair a mate !
Has all thefe wond'rous gifts in (lore.
And each returning day brings more 5
No youth fo happy can be feen,
Pofleffing thee, my Highland Queen,
Tks echoing Horrio
The echoing horn calls the fportfmen abroad.
To horfe, my brave boys, and away ;
The morning is. up, and the cry of the hounds
Upbraids our too tedious delay.
What pleafure we find in purfuing the fox !
O'er hill and o'er valley he flies :
Then follow, we'll foon Overtake him, huzza I
The traitor is feiz'd on and dies.
Triumphant returning at night with the fpoil^
Like Bacchanals Ihouting and gay.
How fweet with our bottle and lafs to refrefh.
And lofe the fatigues of the day I
With fport, love, and wine, fickle fortune defy,
Dull wifdom all happinefs fours ;
Since life is no more than a paffage at beft.
Let's ftrew the way over with flov^'rs.
530 THE EBINBURGH SYREN J
Lajl Vahnthie^s Day.
Last Valentine's day, when bright Phoebus iJboiie
clear,
^ had not been a hunting for more than a year,
Taleo, taleo, &c.
jmounted black Sloven, o'er the road made him
bound,
3 ( ] I heard the hounds challenge, and horns
fweetly found.
Taleo, taleo, &c.
Hallo, into covert, old Anthony cries ;
No fooner he fpoke, but the fox, Sir, he 'fpies,
Taleo, &c.
This being the fignal, he then crack'd his whip,
Taleo was the word, and away he did leap,
Taleo, occ.
Then up rides Dick Dawfon, who car'd not a
pin,
He fprung at the drain, but his horfe tumbl'd in,
Taleo, &c.
And as he crept out, why, he fpy'd the old ren,
With his tongue hanging out, ftealing home to his
den.
Taleo, &c.
Our hounds and our horfes were always as good
Asever broke covert, or dalh'd thro' the woodj
Taleo^ &c.
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. I^l
Old Reynard runs hard, but mufl certainly die,
Have at you, old Tony, Dick Dawfon did cry.
, Taleo, &c.
The hounds they had run twenty miles now or
more.
Old Anthony fretted, he curs'd too and fwore,
Taleo, &c.
But Reynard being fpent, foon muft give up the
Which will heighten our joys %vhen we come to
each toaO:.
Taleo, &c.
The day's fport being over, the horns we will
found.
To die jolly fox-hunters let echo refound,
Taleo, &c.
So fill up your glaffes, and cheerfully drink
To thei honeft true fportfman who never will
fhrink.
Taleo, &c,
Since Love is the Plan.
Since love is the plan,
I'll love if I can —
Attend, and I'll tell you what fort of a man
In addrefs how complete,
And in drefs fpruce and neat,
No matter hovr tall, fo he's over five feet j
t^2 ^HE E0INBUR.GH SYREN }
Not dull, nor too witty,
His eyes I'll think pretty,
If fparkling with pleafure whenever wc meet
In a fong bear a bob,
In a glafs a hab-nob,
Vet drink of his reafon his noddle ne*er rob ;
Tho, gentle he be.
His man he fhall fee.
Yet never be conquer'd by any but me.
This, this is my fancy ;
If fuch a man I can fee,
I'm his, if he's mine ; until then, I'll be free.
Tho* LeixUp is proud f Ssf^o
Tho' Leixlip is proud of its clofe fliady bowers,
Its clearfallingwaters and murmuring cafcades,
Its groves of fine myrtles, itsbedsbf fweet flowers,
Its lads fo well drefs'd, and its neat pretty
maids ;
As each his own village muft ftill make the moft
of,
In praife of dear Carton, I hope I'm not wrong:
Dear Carton ! containing what kingdoms may
boaft of!
'Tis Norah;, dear Norah ! th.^ theme of my
qjH, MUSICAL BOUQUET. I33
Be gentlemen fine, with their fpurs and nice boots
on,
Their horfes to ftart on the Curragh of Kil-
dare;
Or dance at a ball with their Sunday's new fuits
on,
Lac'd waiilcoaft, white gloves, and their nice
powder'd hair :
Poor Pat, while fo bleft in his mean humble fta-
tion,
For gold and for acres he never fhall long;
One fweet fmile can give him the wealth of a
nation,
From Norah, dear Norah! the theme of my
fong.
Auld Robin Gray.
When the fheep are in the fauld, and the ky at
hame.
And a' the w^arld to fleep were gane.
The waes of my heart fa's in fhowers frae my e'e,
"When my guidman lies found by me.
Young Jamie loo'd me well, and he fought me
for his bride,
But faving a crown, he had naething befide :
To make that crown a pound my Jamie went to
fea.
And the crown and the pound were baith for me,
M
|.2A ' THE EDINBURGH SYREN ;
He Ladna been awa' a week but only twa,
When my mither fhe fell ill, and the cow was
ftow'n awa' ;
My father brake his arm, and my Jamie went to
fea,
And auld Robin Gray came a courting to me.
My father cou'da' work, and my mither cou'dna*
fpin,
I toild day and night, but their bread I couMna'
win;
Auld Robin maintaln'd thembaith, and, wi' tears
in his ee',
iniid Jenny for their fakes, O marry me.
My heart it faid nay, I look'd for Jamie back.
But the wind it blew high, and the Ihip it was a
wreck,
The fhip it was a v/reck, why didna Jenny die ?
And why do I live to cry Waes me !
Auld Robin argu'd fair ; tho' my mither didna*
fpeak,
She look'd in my face till my heart was like to
break :
So they gied him my hand, tho' my heart was in
the fea,
And auld Robin Gray is a guidman to me.
I hadna' been a wife a week but only four.
When, fitting fae mournfully at the door^
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. 135
^ law my Jamle^s wreath, but I didna' think it
he,
Till he faid, I'm come back for to marry thee.
0 fair did we greet, and muckle did we fay,
We took each but ae kifs, and we tore ourfelves
aw^ay.
1 wiih I were dead, but I'm not like to die,
And why do I live to fay Waes me?
i gang like a gaift, and I carena' to fpin,
I darena' think on Jamie, for that would be a fm:
But I'll do my belt a good wife to be.
For auld Robin Gray is kind to me.
The Death of auld Roh'in Gray, and Jamie's Return.
Tjie Summer it was fmiling, all nature round
was gay,
When Jenny was attending on auld Robin
Gray;
For he was fick at heart, and had nae friend be-
fide,
But only rae, poor Jenny, who newly was his
bride.
Ah ! Jenny, I fhall die, he cry'd, as fure as I had
birth ;
Then fee my poor old banes, I pray, laid into the
earth j
M2
J36 THE EDINBURGH SYREN J
And be a widow foi- my lake a twelvemonth and
a day,
And I'll leave you whate'er belongs to auld Ro-
bin Gray.
I laid poor Robiii in the earth as decent as I cou*d.
And Ihed a tear upon his grave, for he was very
good ;
I took my rock into my hand, and in my cot I
figh^d.
Oh, wae's me, what fliall I do, fmce poor auld
Robin died.
Search ev'ry partthroughout the land, there's nane
I'ke me forlorn,
I'm ready e'en to ban the day that ever I was
born ;
For Jamie, all I lov'd on earth, Ah ! he is gone
away,
My father's dead, my mother's dead, and eke auld
Robin Gray.
I rofe up with the morning fun, and fpun till fet-
ting day,
And one whole year of widowhood I mourn'd
for Robin Gray ;
I did the duty of a wife, both kind and conftant
too ;
Let ev'ry one example take, and Jenny's plan
purfue.
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. i 3 ;
I thought that Jamie he was dead, or he to me
was loft,
And all my fond and youthful love entirely it was
croft ;
I try'd to fmg, I try'd to laugh, and pais the time
away,
For I had ne'er a friend alive fmce dy'd auld Pv-O-
bin Gray.
At length the merry bells rung round, I cou'diia'
guefs the caufe ;
But Rodney was the man they faid, that gain'd
fo much applaufe :
I doubted if the tale was true, till Jamie came to me,
And Ihow'd a purfe of golden ore, and faid. It is
for thee ;
Auld Robin Gray, I find is dead, and ftill your
heart is true,
Then, take me, Jenny, to your arms, and I will
be fo too.
Mefs John Ihall join us at the kirk, and we'll be
blithe and gay ;
I blufti'd, confented, and reply 'd, Adieu to Rg»
bin Gray.
Ms
138 THE EDiNfiURGH SYREN
the Miller's Wedding.
Leave, neighbours, your work, and to fport and
to play \
Let the tabor ftrike up, aild the village be gay,
Let the tabor, &c.
No day thro* the year (hall more cheerful be feen.
For Ralph of the mill marries Sue of the green.
For Ralph, &c.
I love Sue, aud Sue love loves me.
And while the wind blows,
And while the mill goes,
Who'll be fo happy, fo happy as we ?
Let lords and fine folks, who for wealth take a
bridcj
Be married to-day, and to-morrow be cloy'd ;
My body is ftout, and my heart Is as found,
And my love, like my courage, will never give
ground.
I love Sue, &c.
Let ladies of faihion the beft jointures wed,
And prudently take the beft bidders to bed;
Such figning and fealing's no part of our blifsj
We fettle our hearts, and we feal with a kifs.
I love Sue, &c.
ok, Musical bouot/et. 139
Though Ralph is not courtly, nor one of our
beaus,
Nor bounces, nor flutters, nor wears your fine
clothes,
In nothing he*ll follow from folks of high life.
Nor ne'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 my tongue but lies
ftill.
Our joys fhall continue, and ever be new,
And none be fo happy as Ralph and his Suew
I love Sue, &c.
The happy Pair,
How bleft has my time been ? what joys have I
known.
Since wedlock's foft bondage made Jefly my own^
So joyful my heart isj fo eafy my chain.
That freedom is taftelefs, and roving a pain.
That freedom is taftelefs, &c.
Thro' walks grown with woodbines as often we
ftray.
Around us our boys and girls frolic and play :
How pleafnig their fpdrt is ! the wanton ones fee^
And borrow their looks from my JefFy and me=
J^ THE EDilNBURGH SYREN ;
To try her fweet temper, oft-times am I feeti
In revels all day with the nymphs on the green t
Tho' painful my abfence, my doubts Ihe beguiles,
And meets me at night with complacence and
fmiies.
What tho' on her cheek the rofe lofes its hue,
Her wit and good-humour blooms all the year
through :
Time dill as he flies adds increafe to her truth,
And gives to her mind what he fteals from her
youth.
Ye fliepherds fo gay, who make love to enfnare,
And cheat, with falfe vows, the too credulous
fair;
In fearch of true pleafure, how vainly you roam,
To hold it for life, you muft find it at home.
Tie Linnets.
As bringing home the other day
Two linnets I had tae'n.
The pretty warblers feem'd to pray
For liberty again.
Unheedful of their plaintive notes,
I fang acrofs the mead ;
In vain they tun'd their downy throats.
And fluttered to be freed.
As paffing through the tufted grove
Ne^r which my cottage flood.
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET.
I thought I faw the queen of love
When Chlorals charms I view'd*
I gaz'd, I lov'd, I prefs'd her ftay
To hear my tender tale ;
But all in vain, fhe fled away.
Nor could my fighs prevail.
Soon thro' the wound which love had made^
Came pity to my breaft ;
And thus I as compaflion bade.
The feathered pair addrefs'd :
<* Ye little warblers, cheerful be,
" Remember not ye flew :
" For I who thought myfelf fo free,
"Am far more caught than you."
When the trees are all bare, not a kaf to be feen^
And the meadows their beauty have loft ;
When nature's difrob'd of her mantle of green,
And the ftreams are faft bound with the froft s
While the peafant inacflive ftands fhiv'riug With
cold.
As bleak the winds northerly blow :
When the innocent flocks run for eafeto the fold;
With their fleeces all cover'd with fnow :
In the yard while the cattle are fodder'd wilh
fliraw.
And fend forth their breath like a ftream !
1^2 THE EDINBURGH SYREN ;
And the neat-looking dairy-maid fees fhe mull
thaw
Fleaks of ice which fhe finds in her cream :
When the fweet country maiden, as frefh as the
rofe,
As fhe carelefsly trips, often flides,
And the ruftics loud laugh, if by falling fhe fhows
All the charms that her modefty hides :
When the birds to the barn-door hover for food,
As with filence they refl on the fpray ;
And the poor tired hare in vain feeks the wood.
Left her footfteps her caufe fhould betray ;
When the lads and the lafles, in company join'dj
In a crowd round the embers are met.
Talk of fairies and witches that ride in the wind^
And of ghofts, till they're all iu a fweat :
Heav'n grant in this feafon it may be my lot.
With the nymph whijm I love and admire,
Wliilft the icicles hang from tlie eves of my cot,
I may thither in fafety retire.
Where in neatnefs and quiet, and free from fur-
prife.
We may live and no hardfhips endure,
Nor feel any turbulent pafTions arife.
But fuch as each otlier may cure«
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. I43
Bide ye yet.
Gin I had a wee houfe, and a canty wee fire,
A bonny wee wifie ta praife and admire,
A bonny wee yardy afide a wee bum.
Farewell to the bodies that yammer and mourn.
And bide ye yet, and bide ye yet,
Ye little ken what may betide ye yet,
Some bonny wee body may be my lot,
And I'll ay be canty v/i' thinking o't.
When I gang a-field, and come hame at e'en,
I'll get my wee wifie fou neat and fou clean ;
And a bonny wee bairnie upon her knee,
That will cry pappa or daddy to me.
And bide ye yet, &c.
And if there fhould happen ever to be
A difference a'tween my wee wifie and me.
In hearty good humour altho' {he be teaz'd,
I'll kifs her and clap her until Ihe be pleas'd.
And bide ye yet, and bide ye yet.
Ye little ken what will betide ye yet,
Some bonny wee body may be my lot.
And I'll ay be canty wi' thinking o'So
144 "JTHB EDINBURGH SYREN J
My Heart's my ahu
'Tis nae very lang fmfyne
That I had a lad o' my ain^
But now he's awa* to anither,
And left me a' my lane.
The lafs he's courting has filler,
And I hae nane at a' ;
And its nought but the love of the tocher
That's ta'en my lad awa'.
But I'm blyth that my heart's my ain,
And I'll keep it a' my life,
Until that \ meet wi' a lad
Who has fenfe to wale a good wife.
For tho' I fay't myfelf,
That fhould na fay't, 'tis true,
The lad that gets me for a wife
He'll ne'er hae occafion to rue.
I ga^g fou ^lean and fou tofh,
As a' the neighbours can tell,^
Tho' I've feldom a gown on my bacl^;, '
But fic as I fpin myfel'.
And when I am clad in my curtfyj
I think myfel' as bra'
As Sufie, wi' a' her pearling.
That's ta'en my lad away.
j^ut I wifli they were buckl'd together^
And may they live for life j
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET." X45
Tho* Willie does flight me, and's left me,
The chield he deferves a good wife.
But, O ! Pm blithe that I've mifs'd him,
As blithe as I weel can be ;
For ane that's fae keen o' the filler
will ne'er agree wi' me.
But, as the truth is, Pm hearty,
I hate to be fcrimpit and fcant :
The wee thing 1 hae I'll make ufe ©'t,
And nae ane about me ihall want.
For I'm a gude guide o' the warldy
I ken when to had and to gie ;
For whinging and cringing for filkf
Will ne'er agree wi' me.
Contentment is better than riches,
An' he wha has that has enough ;
The mafter is feldom fo happy
As Robin that drives the plough.
But if a young lad v^ould call up.
If To make me his partner for life.
If the chield has the fenfe to be happy,
He'll fa' on his feet for a wife.
He'sjiok my tender Heart away*
The fields were green, the hills were gay,
And birds were fmging on each fpray,
t N
14^ THE EDINBURGH SYREN J
When Colin met me in the grove.
And told me tender tales of love,
Was ever fwain fo blythe as he,
So kind, fo faithful, and fo free !
In fpite of all my friends could iayj
Young Colin ftole my heart away I
In fpite of all, &c.
Whene'er he trips the meads along-.
He fweetly joins the woodlark's fong j
And when he dances on the green.
There's none fo blythe as Colin feen j
If he's but by, I nothing fear.
For I alone am all his care ;
Then, in fpite of all my friends can fay^
He's ftole my tender heart away*
My mother chides whene'er I roam.
And feems furpris'd I quit my home 5
But fhe'd not wonder that I rove,
Did fhe but feel how much I love :
Full well I know the gen'rous fwain
Will never give my bofom pain ;
Then in fpite of all my friends can fay?
He's ftole my tender heart away,
JBui ivbat IS that to you
My Jeany and I had toil'd
The live-lang fumraer's day,
Till we were almoft fpoil'd
At making of the hay.
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. I47
Her kerchy was of Holland clear,
Ty'd on her bonny brow ;
I whifper'd fomething in her ear,-*
But what is that to you I
But what is that, &c.
Her ftockings were of kerfy green.
As tight as ony filk :
Oh ! fic a leg was never feen S
Her Ikin was white as milk !
Her hair was black as ane could wifh.
And fweet, fweet was her moii' !
Oh ! Jeany daintily can kifs !— •
But what is that to you ?
The rofe and lily baith combine
To make my Jeany fair ;
There is nae bennifon like mine,
I have amaift nae care :
But when another fwain, my dear.
Shall fay you're fair to view,
Let Jeany whifper in his ear.
Pray what is that to you ?
'^Conceal thy beauties if you can^
Hide that fweet face of thine.,
That I may only be the man
Enjoys thefe looks divine.
O do not proftitute, my dear.
Wonders to cornmon view,
■ N2
148 THE EDINBURGH SYREN 9
And I with faithful heart Ihall fwear
For ever to be true.
King Solomon had wives eneWj
And mony a cuncubine ;
But I enjoy a blifs niair true ;
His J0ys were fliort ol mine ^
And Jeany's happier than they.
She feldom wants her due :
All debts of love to her I'll pay.
And what is that to you ?
Social Power,
Come, now, all ye fecial powers^
Shed your infl'ence o'er us;
Crown with joy the prefent hours,
JLnlivcn thole before us :
Bring the flafk, the mufic bring,
Joy fhall quickly find us ;
Sprrt, and dance, and laugh and frngj
And caft dull care behind us.
Love, thy godhead I adore,
Source of gen'rous paflion %
Nor will we ever bow before
Thofe idols, Wealth or Falhion.
Bring the flafk, &jCc
ok, MUSICAL BOUQUEt. 149
Why the plague fhould we be fad,
Whilft on earth we moulder ;
Rich, or poor, or grave, or mad,.
We cv'ry day grow older.
Bring the flafk, &c.
Friendfhip ! O thy fmiles divine,
Bright in ev*ry feature ;
What but friendfhip, love, and wine,
Can make us happy creature?.
Bring the flaik, &c*
Since the time will fteal away.
Spite of all our forrow,
Let*s be blithe and gay to-day>
And never mind to-morrow.
Bring the flaflc, the mufic bring,
Joy fhall quickly find us ;
Sport, and dance, and laugh, and fingj
And Caft dull care behind us.
i'he Mind of a Woman can ne'ver be known*
The mind of a woman can never be known,
Vou never can guefs it aright :
I I'll tell you the reafon, Ihe knows not her own^
" She changes fo often ere night.
150 THE EDINBURGH SYltaH 5
^Twould puzzJe /xpullo he; whimfies to follow,
His oracle would be a jeft ;
Slie'll frown when file's kind.
She'll change with the wind ;
And often abufcs tlie man that Ihe chufes,
And him (lie refufes likes beft.
To keep them in temper, I'll tell you the way,
I'd have jou give ear to my plan ;
Ee merry affid cheerful, good-humour'd, and gay,
And kifs them as oft as you can :
Frv while you do thefe, you the ladies will pleafe.
Their sfFedlions you're fure for to gain ;
Then be of their mind,
And quickly you'll find,
'Tis better than wrangling, contending, and jang-
ling,
For they'll love you, and kifs you again.
JVhen the Men a courting came.
When the men a courtiag came,
F.att'ring with their prittle prattle,
Ci iheir fool'ries I made a game,
Rallied with my tittle tattle.
Cooing to me, wooing to me,
Teazing of me, pleafuig of me,
OfF'ring pelf, ea-.-.h fuly elf
Came cooing, wooing, and bowing to me<
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. 15^1
The divine, with looks demure,
Talk'd of tythes and eating plenty ;
Show'd the profits of his cure,
And vow'd to treat me with each dainty.
Cooing to me, &c.
The learned ferjeant of the law
Show'd his parchments, briefs, and papers,
In his deeds I found a flaw,
So difmifs*d him in the vapours.
Cooing to me, &C:.-
Phyfic now difplay'd his wealth,
With his noftrums ; but the fa<fl is,
I reiolv'd to keep my health,
Nor die a martyr to his praftice.
Cooing to me, &Ci
But at lad a fwain bow'd low.
Candid, handfomc, tall, and cleverj^
SqueezM my hand — I can't tell how,
But he won my heart for ever.
Cooing to me, wooing to me,
Teazing of me, pleafmg of me,
Offering pelf, each filly elf,
I fent all other wooers from me.
1<^Z THE EM^BURGH SYfeKS |
My ain kind Deary 0.
Will ye gang o'er the lee-rig.
My ain kind deary O !
And cuddle there fo kindly
Wi* me, my kind deary O t
At thornie dike, and birken tree.
We'll daiF and ne'er be weary O i
They'll fcug ill een frae you and mc.
Mine ain kind deary O !
Nae herds wi' kent or colly there.
Shall ever come to fear ye O ;
But lav'rocks whiftling in the air,
Shall woo like me their deary O I
While others herd their lambs and ewes,
And toil for warld's gear my jo,
Upon the lee my pleafure grows,
Wi' you my kind deary O !
One Bottle rnore^
Assist me, ye lads, who have hearts void of guile
To fing in the praife of old Ireland's iile,
Where true hofpitality opens the docr^
And frlendfhip detains us for one bottle more.
One bottle more, arra', one bottle more,
And friendfcip detains us fo^ one bottle morei
OR, MUSHAL BOUQUET. I53
Old England, your taunts on our country forbear ;
With our bulls, and our brogues, we are true and
.fmcere,
For If but one bottle remained in our (lore,
We have gen'rous hearts to give that bottle morg*
In Candy's in Church-ftreet 1*11 fmg of a fet
Of lix Irifh blades who together had met ;
Four bottles a-piece made us call for our fcore,
And nothing remained but one bottle more.
Our bill being paid we were loth to depart,
For friendlhip had grappl'd each man by the heart;
Where the leaft touch you know makes an Irifli-
man roar, [more.
And the whack from Shilela brought fix bottles
Sl^wPh(^bushad fliojie thro'our.windowsfobright^
Quite happy to view his bleft children of light ;
So we parted with hearts tieither forry noi fore,
Refolving next night to drink t'weh<i bottles more.
The Mulberry Tree,
Behold this fair goblet was carved from the tree,
Which, O my fweet Shakefpeare, was planted by
thee ;
As a relic I kifs it, and bow at thy fhrine,
What comes from thy hand muft be ever divine.
AH lliall yield to the mulberry tree,
Bend to the,
Blef^'d mulberry J
154 THE EDINBURGH SYREN I
Matchlefs was he
That planted thee.
And thou like him, immortal fliall be^,
Ye trees of the foreft, fo rampant and high,
Who fpread round your branches, whofe heads
fweep the iky ;
Ye curious exotics, whom tafte has brought here,
To root out the natives at prices fo dear :
All fhall yield, &c.
The Oak is held royal, is Britain's great boaft,
PrefervM once your king, and will always ourcoaft.
Of the fir we makelhips; there are thoufands that
fight.
But one, only one, like our Shakefpeare can write^
All Ihall yield, &c.
Let Venus delight in her gay myrtle bowers,
Pomana in fruit-trees, and Flora in flowers ;
The garden of Shakefpeare all fancies will fuit,
With the fweeteft of flowers, and the faireft of
fruit.
All fliall yield, &c.
With learning and knowledge the well-letter'd
birch
Supplies law and phyfic, and graces the church.
But lav/ and the gofpel ip Shakefpeare we find,
He gives the beft phyfic for body and mind.
All fliall yield, &g.
OR, MUSICAL BOUQIJET. 15r
The fame of the patron gives fame to the tree ;
From him and his merits this takes its degree ;
Give PhcEbus and Bacchus their laurel and vine,
The tree of our Shakefpeare is ftill more divine.
All Ihall yield, &c.
As the genius of Shakefpeare outlines the bright
day,
More rapture than wine to the heart can convey.
So the tree which he planted, by making his own,
Has the laurel and bays, and the vine all in onei
All (liall yield, &c.
Then each take a relic of this hollow tree.
From folly and falhion a charm let it be ;
Let's fill to the Planter the cup to the brim.
To honour your country do honour to him.
All fhall yield to the mulberry tree ;
Bend to thee,
Blefs'd mulberry ;
Matchlefs was he
That planted thee.
And thou, like him, immortal fhall be.
My Name is honejl Harry ^ 0.
Mv name is honeft Harry O,
Mary I will marry O ;
In fpite of Nell, or Ifabel,
I'U follow my own vagary p.
i^6 THE EmNBUR^H syren:
With my rigdum jigum airy O,
I love little Mary O,
In fpite of Nell or Ifabel,
1^11 follow my own vagary 0«
Smart fhe is and bonny 0«
Sweet as fugarcandy O,
Frelli and gay,
As flow'rs in may.
And I'm her Jack-a-dandy O.
With my, &c.
Soon to the church I'll have her O,
Where we'll wed together O ;
And that, that done,
Then we'll have fun.
In fpite of wind and weather O.
With my rigdum jigum airy 0^
I love little Mary O ;
In fpite of Nell or Ifabel,
I'll follow my own vagary O.
FoUo'W the Howtds in full cry.
The fun from the eaft tips the mountains with gold^
And the meadows allfpangl'd with dew-drops be-
hold ;
The lark's early matins proclaims the new day.
And the horn's cheerful fummons rebukes our
delay,
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET* I57
With the fports in the field their's no pleafure can
vie,
While jocund we follow, follow, follow, follow.
Follow, follow, follov;, follow, fallow, follow,
Follow, follow, follow the hounds in full cry.
Let the drudge of the town make riches his fport?
And the (lave of the ftate hunt the fmiles of the
court ;
Nor care nor ambition our pleafures annoy.
But innocence ftill gives a zeft to our joy.
With the fports of the field, &c.
Mankind are all hunters in various degree ;
The prieft hunts a living — the lawyer a fee ;
The dodor a patient — the courtier a place,
Tho' often (hke us) they're flung out with difgrace.
With the fports of the field, &c.
The cit hunts a plum — the foldier hunts fame :
The poet a dinner— the patriot a name ;
And the artful coquette, tho'' flie feems to refufe,
Yet in fpite of her airs, Ihe her lover purfues.
With the fports of the field, &Co
Let the bold and bufy hunt glory and wealth.
All the blelungs we afk, is the blefling of health ;
With hounds and with horns thro' the woodlands
to roam,
Aud when tired abroad, find contentmentat homce.
With the fports of the field, &c.
' O
158 THE EDINBURGH SYREN
Dear Tom, this brown Jug,
Dear Tom, this brown jug that now foams with!
mild ale,
Out of which I will drink to fweet Kate of the vale,
Was once Toby Fillpot, a thirfty old foul,
As e'er drank a bottle, or fathom'd a bowl ;
In boozing about 'twas his praife to excel,
And among jolly topers he bore off the belL
It chanc'd, as in dog-days he fat at his eafe,
In his flow'r-woven arbour, as gay as you pleafe>
With a friend and a pipe, puffing forrov/ away.
And with honeft old ftingo was foaking his clay;
His breath-doors of life en a fudden were fhut,
And he dy'd full as big as a Dorcheller but.
His body, when long in the ground it had lain,
And time into clay had dilTolv'd it again,
A potter found out, in its covert io fnug,
And with part of fat Toby he madethlsbrownjiig j
Now facred to friendihip, to mirth, and mild ale j
So here's to my lovely fweet Kate cf the vale.
Blow hioh^ IIgw h<v.
Blow high, blow low,lettempefts tear the main-
maft by the board.
My heart with tlioug-hts of thee, rnvd^arj. and love
v.^ell-4or'd, "
Oa, MUSICAL BOUQl-'ET. I59
Shall brave all danger, fcorn all fear.
The roaring winds, the raging fea ;
In hopes on Ihore to be once more
Safe moor'd with thee.
Blow high, &c.
Aloft while mountains high we go,
The whift'ling wind that feuds along ;
'And the furge roaring from below,
Shall my fignal be to think on thee,
And this fliall be my fong,
Blow high, &c.
And on that night when all the crew.
The memory of their former lives,
O'er flowing cans of flip renew.
And drink their fweet-hearts and their wives ;
I'll heave a figh and think on thee.
And as the fhip rolls thro' the fea.
The burthen of my fong fhall be,
Blow high, Sac,
Bright Phabus.
.Bright Phoebus has mounted the chariot of day,
And the horns and the hounds call each fportfman
away ;
Thro* meadows and woods with fpeed now they
bound,
Whilft health, rofy health, is In exercife found,
O 2
l6o THE EDINBURGH SYREN ;
Hark away is the v/ord to the found of the horn.
And echo, blithe echo, makes jovial the morn.
Each hill and each valley is lovely to view.
While pufs flies the covert and dogs quick purfue 5
Behold where Ihe flies o'er the wide fpreading
plain,
While the loud opening pack purfue her amain»
Hark away, &Co
At length pufs is caught, and lies panting for
breath,
And the Ihout of the huntfman's the fignal ofi
death.
No joys can delight like the fports of the Seld,
To hunting all pafliime and pleafure muft yield.
Hark away, &c.
A fweet-fcentsd Beau.
A fweet-fcented beau, and a fimp'ring young Cit,
An artful Attorney, a Rake, and a Wit,
Set out in a chafe In purfuit of her heart,
Whilft chloe difdainfully laught at their art :
And rouz'd by the hounds to meet the fweet mortij.-
Tantivy, Ihe follow'd the echoing horn.
Wit fwore by his fancy, the Beau by his face.
The Lawyer with Quibble, fet out oa the chafe ;
O-R, M-tfSICAL BOUQUET. l6l
The Cit with exa(5lnefs, made out his acconntj
The Rake told his conqueft, how vaft the amount!
She laugh'd at their folHes and bKthe as the morn,
Tantivity, flie foliow'd the echoing horn.
The clamorous noife rous'd a jolly young Swain,
Hark! forward, he cry'd, then bounc'd o'er the
plain,
He diftanc'd the Wit, the Cit, Quibble, and Beau,
And won the fair Nymph, hollow ! hollow !
IsFow together they fmg a fv/eet hymn to the morn,
Tantivy, they follow the echoing horn.
Baiinamone Ora.
Wherever I'm going, and all the day long,
Abroad, or at home, or alone in a throng,
I find that my paffion's fo lively and ftrong,
That your name, when I'm filent, runs ftill in my
fong.
Sing Baiinamone Ora, Baiinamone Ora,
Bahnamone Ora, a kifs of your fweetlips forme.
Since the firft time I faw you I took no repofe ;
I fleep all the day to forget half my woes :
So hot is the flame in my bofom which glows,
By St. Patrick, I fear it will burn thro' my clothes.
Sing Baiinamone Ora, IfSe,
Your pretty black hair for me.
03
i62 THE EDINBURGH SYREN 5
In my confclence I fear I fhall die in my grave, '
Unlefs you complyy and poor Phelim will fave,
And grant the petition your lover does crave,
Who never was free till you made him your Have*
Sing Balinamone Gra, ^c.
Your pretty black eyes for me.
On that happy day, when I make you my bride.
With a fwinging long fword how I'll ftrut and
I'll ftride,
In a coach aud fix horfes with honey I'll ride,
As before you I walk to the church by your fide.^
Sing Balinamone Ora, Balinamone Ora,
Your little white fift for me.
ir^e Bonny Sailor^
My bonny failor's won my mind I
My heart is now with him at fea ;
I hope the fummer's weftern breeze
Will bring him fafely back to me 1
I vri{h to hear what glorious tolls ;
What dangers he has undergone i
What forts he ftorm'd, how great the fpoils-
From France and Spain mj failor's won.
A thoufand terrors chilPd my breaft,
When fancy brought the foe in view ;
And day and night I've had no reft,
Leil ev'ry gale a temped blew.
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. 16'^
EriBg, gentle gales, my failor home !
His fhip at anchor may I fee !
Three years are fure enough to roam ;
Too long for one that loves like m.e.
His face by fultry climes is wan,
His eyes, by watching, fhine lefs bright ^
But ftill I'll own my charming man.
And run to meet him when in fight.
His honeft heart is what I prize ;
No weather can make that look old ^
Tho' alter'd were his face and eyeSj
I'll love my jolly failor bold.
Lifers Like a Sea^ in Conjlant Motion,
Life's like a fea, in conftant motion.
Sometimes high and fometimes low 3
Where every one muft brave the ocean,
Whatfoever winds do blow.
Tho' at night by fqualls or ihowers.
Or driven by fome gentle gales.
If dangers rife be ever ready
To manage well the fwelling fails.
What, tho' the wayward winds would bluilers
Let us not give way to fear ;
Sut all our patience let us mufter.
And learn by reafon how to fteer :
164 THE EDINBURGH SYREN j
Let judgment ever keep us fleady,
For that's a balance feldom fails ;
If dangers rife, be ever ready
To manage well the fwelling fails.
Truft not too much your own opinion,
When the vellel's under way ;
Let good example be your dominion.
That will feldom lead aftray.
But fliould thunder o'er you fhudder.
Or Boreas o'er the furface rails,
Let good directions guide the rudder,
Whilft providence conduds the fails.
When you are fafe from dangers riding,
In fome favourite port or bay,
Hope be the anchor you confide in,
Care awhile in flumbers lay ;
Next, each a can of liquor flowing.
And good fellowfhip prevails ;
Let every heart with rapture glowing,
Drink, *' Succefs unto the Sails !"
The Honey Moon*
Wou'd you know, my good friends, what the ho-
ney-moon is.
How long the duration, how perfed the blifs,
A proof may be found, and a fample be feen.
In fome boarding -fchool couple jull left Gretna-
green.
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET,* ^65
My deareft, my duck.
My fweeteft, my chuck ;
Mifs Kitty's an angel, her Billy's a god ;
Whips crack, glaffes jingle,
While fighs intermingle,
And Cupid afients, and goes niddity nod,
Niddity nod, niddity nod,
O'er Kitty the angel, and Billy the god. '
Papa's and mamma's furly tempers once pafl, .
Bright Bloomfbury-fquare has this couple at laftf
In three week's pofreffion, how pleafures will cloy,
Negled: hurts the lady, and time cools the boy.
So impatient to roam ;——
Ma'am you're never at home,
A path fo vexatious no wife ever trod 5
My torment, my curfe ;— .
You are bad— You are worfe.
While Cupid flies off, from a quarrel fo odd,
Niddity nod, niddity nod.
And Mifs is no angel, and Billy no god.
To routs hies the lady, to gambling goes mafter.
To part from each other, ne'er couple wentfafter.
While raking at night, and diftraftion at noon.
Soon clofe all the joys of the fweet honey-moonc.
Bleeding hearts, aching heads,
Separate tables and beds,
Render wedlock's fv/set countenaacs 4^11 as a.
clod ;
1^66 THE EDINBURGH SYREN J
Then hie for a fummons
From grave Dodor Commons,
While prodlors and parchments go niddlty nod,
Niddity nod, niddity nod,
O'er Kitty the angel, and Billy the god.
Hoot awa^ ye Loon,
Whe'N weary Sol gang'd down the weitj
And filver Cynthia rofe ;
The flow'r enamell'd banks I preft.
Where chryftal Eden flows.
Young Jockey fat him by my fide,
I kenn'd his meaning foon ;
He afk'd a kifs, I fcornful cry*dp
Ah ! hoot awa, ye loon. '
Dear Peggy gin ye Uout a youthj
Or gi* that bofom pain,
Which pants wi' honour and wi* trutis
To tak thee for its ain ;
Then on his pipe he fweetly play'd,
A maift delightful tune :
But na mair words to him I faid,
Than, " Hoot awa, ye loon.
He faid mefs John fiiou'd us unitCg
If I to kirk wad gang- ;
My bofom beat wi' new delights
Wi' him I went alang.
OR, MUSICAL BOUOJOET* 1 67
The bonny lad I found fmcere.
Not waining like the moon ;
So dear I loo'd him, I na mair
Will " Hoot awa, ye loon."
/ Traversed yudah^s barren Sand.
I travers'd Judah's barren fand.
At beauty's altar to adore ;
But there the Turks had fpoil'd the land.
And Sion's daughters were no more.
In Greece the bold imperious meln.
The wanton look, the leering eye.
Bade love's devotion not be feen
Where conftancy is never nigh.
From thence to Italy's fair fhore
I bent my never ceafmg way.
And to Loretta's temple bore
A mind devoted Hill to pray.
But there, too, Superftition's h-and
Had ficklied ev'ry feature o'er.
And made me foon regain the land,
Where beauty fills the weftern fliore.
Where Hymen Vv^ith celeftial pow'r
Connubial tranfport doth adorn ;
Where pureft virtue fports the hour
That ufhers in each happy morn.
Ye daughters of old Albion's ifle,
Where'er I ^o^ where'er I ftrayj
l68 THE EDINBURGH SYREN
O charity's fweet children fmile
To cheer a pilgrim on his way.
^he Green Sedgy Banh,
ONtliegrecnledgybanksof the fweet v^indlngTay,
As blithe as the woodlark that carols in May,
I pafs'd the gay moments with joy and delight.
For peace cheer'd the morn, and content crown'd
tlie night ;
Till love taught young hope my youth to deceive—
"What we wifh to be true— love bids us believcc
Wlierever I wander, thro' hill, dale or grove.
Young Sandy would follovv^with foft tales of love;
Enraptur'd he prefs'd me, then vow'd witha figh.
If Jenny was cruel—alas ! he muft die ;
A youth fo engaging, with eafe might deceive—
What we wilh to be true — ^love bids us believe.
He dole my fond heart, then he left me to mourn,
For peace and content, that ne'er can return ;
From the clown to the beau the fex are all art.
They complain of the wound, butwe feelthefmart:
We join in the fraud, and ourfelves we deceive —
What we wifh to be true— love bids us believe*
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET, l6o
Duet.
How fweet in the woodlands, with fleet hound
and horn
To waken fhrill echo, and tafte the freili morn ;
But hard is the chafe my fond heart muft purfue?
For Daphne, fair Daphne, is loft to my view :-—
She's loft ! — Fair Daphne is loft to my view.
Affift me, chafte Dian, the nymph to regain,
Moie wild than the Roebuck, and wing'd with
difdain ;
In pity o'ertake her, who wounds as fhe flies —
Tho'Daphne's purfued — 'tis Myrtillo that dies.—-
That dies ! — Tho' Daphne's purfu'd, 'tis Myrtillo
that dies.
Duei.
Time has not thinn'd my ilowing hair.
Nor bent me with his iron hand :
Ah why {q foon the blofom tear,
Ere autumn yet the fruit demand.
Let me enjoy the cheerful day,
Till many a year has o'er me rolFd ;
pleas'd, let me trifle life away,
And im^ of love ere I grow old.
176 THE EDINBURGH SYREM |
Duet.
Ah ! what avails thy lover's prayer.
His incenfe clouds the fky in vain 5
Nor wealth, nor greatnefs was his care^
Thee, thee alone, he begg'd to gain.
With thee to wafte the pleafing day.
When ev'ry hour in joy was paft j
With love infenfibly decay.
And on thy bofom breathe my laft.
Logan Braes.
By Logan's ftrearas that runs fae deepj
Fa' aft wi' glee I've herded fheep — ■
Herded iheep, or gathered flaes,
Wi' my dear lad on Logan braes.
But, waes my heart thele days are ganc,
And I wi' grief may herd alane.
While my dear lad maun face his faes^^
Far, far frae me, or Logan braes.
Nae mair at Logan kirk will he,
Atween the preachings meet wi' me—
Meet wi' me, or when its mirk,
Convoy me hame frae Logan kirk ;
Weil may I fmg thefe days are gane?
Frae kirk or fair I come alane ;
While my dear lad maun face his faes^
Far far frae me, or Logan braes.
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. i Ijl
jockey is a bonny Lad.
Now Jockey is a bonny lad, a merry lad, a cheery
lad,
A bonny lad, a canty lad, andjuft the lad for me; '
For while he o'er the meadow llrays, he's ay fa
canty, ay fa gay,
And aft right happy does he fay, there's nane he
loes like me.
For he's ay kiffing, ay clapping, ay dawting and
Iqueezing,
Ay kiffing, kiffing me, he winna let me be.
I met my lad the tither day, friiking o'er a field
of hay.
Says he, dear laffie, will you ftay, and crack a
while wi' me j
Na Jockey, lad, I dare na ftay, my minie fhe'U
mil's me away.
Then flyte and fcold a day, an* play the deil wi*
me.
But Jockey ftill continued hugging, tugging,
dawting, fqueezing.
Ay kiffing, kiffing, clapping, winna let me be.
Now Jockey fee my hair's a' down, and fee you've
torn a' my gowi%
How will I get through the town, come Jockey
tell to me,
P2
172 THE EDINBURGH SYREN ;
But he ne'er minded what I faid, but wl' my neck
and bofom play'd,
Though I intreated, begM, and pray'd him not to
tuzzle me.
But Jockey ftill continu'd hugging,- tugging,
dawting, fqueezing,
Ay kifling, kiffing me, till baith down came we.
As breathlefs and fatigu'd I lay, in his arms
amang the hay,
My blood fall through my veins did play, as he
lay hugging me ;
I thought my breath would never laft, for Jockey
danc'd fo devilifh faft.
But what came o'er, I true, at laft, there's deil '
ane kens but me.
For foon he weary'd o' his dance, and a his
jumping and his prance.
And confeft without romance, he was fain to
let me be.
Shaifmg Duet*
Thss bleak and frofty morning.
All thought of danger fcorning,
This bleak and frofty morning,
All thought of danger fcorning^
OR, MUSICAL BOUQWET. I73
Oar fpirlts brlfkly flowing, were all in a glow,
Thro' the fpaikling fnow, while a ikaiting we go.
With a fa, la, la, la, la, la, to the found of— .
The merry, merry horn.
From the right to the left we are plying.
Swifter than winds now flying.
From the right, &c.
In circles we fleep, or poife ftill we keep,
Behold how we fweep, the face of the deep*
With a fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, to the fonnd of~»
•^ The merry, merry horn.
Great Jove looks on us fmiling,
Who thus the time beguiling.
Great Jove, &c.
Where the waters he feal, ftill rove on our keel.
Our weapons are fteel, and no dangers we feel.
With a fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, to the found of —
The merry, merry horn.
See, fee our train advances.
See how each (kaiter lances.
Spheres on fpheres furrounding.
Health and ftrength abounding.
The Tritons fliall blow, their conch fhells below.
And their beards fear to fliow, while a (kaiting
we go,
With a fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, to the found of- —
The merry, merry horn.
P3
174 '^^^ EDINBURGH SYRES |
Alone hy the light of the Moon* •
When fairies dance round on the grafs,
Who revel all night in a roun,*
Then fay, will you meet me, fweet lafs.
Alone, by the light of the moon ?
Then fay, &c.
Firfl; fwear you will never deceive
The lafs you have conquer'd fo foon.
Nor leave a loft maiden to grieve.
Alone by the light of the moon.
Nor leave, &c.
I fwear to be conftant and true.
Nor would I be falfe for a crown i
I'll meet you at tvrelve on the green.
Alone Ijy the light of. the moon,
1*11 meet, &c.
The nightingale perch'd on the thorn,
Enchants ev'ry ear with her fong,
And is glad on the abfence of morn.
To falute the pale light of the moon.
And is, &c.
How fweet is the jefiamin grove !
How fweet are the rofes in June I
More fweet is the language of love,
Breath'd forth by the light of the moon.
M©re fweet, &c.
I
OR^ MUSICAL BOUQUET. 1 75
The Sailors wat*ry grave.
While o'er the raging roaring feas.
The failors heart is fore oppreft,
While landfmen fafe, with health and eafe,
For wives and children we've no reft j
To them perhaps ne'er Ihall return,
Our little favings cannot fave.
But we are loft ! and they long mourn,
The failors cold ! cold ! watry grave.
Kind landfmen, oh ! reflet a while,
The awful fcenes that us befall.
On failors orphans caft a fmile.
Poor hearts ! Ihou'd they for pity call ;
To them perhaps ne'er to return,
Our little favings cannot fave,
But we are loft ! and they long mourn,
The failors cold ! cold ! wat'ry grave.
Contented I am.
CoNTEKTED I am, and contented Til be ;
Refolv'd in this life to live happy and free,
With the cares of the world I'm feldom perplex' dj
I'm fometimes uneafy, but never am vex'd ;
Some higher, fome lower, I own there may be,
But there's more who live worfe^ than live bet^
ter than me.
176 THE EDINBURGH SYREN J
My life is a compound of freedom and eafe ;
I go when I will, and return when I pleafe ;
I live above envy, alfo above ftrife ;
And wifh I had judgment to choofe a good wife;
I'm neither fo low nor fo high in degree,
But ambition and want are both ftrangers to me.
Did you know hov/ delightful my gay hours dopafs,
With my bottle before me, embrac'd by my lafs;
I'm happy while with her, contented alone,
My wine is my kingdom, my caik is my throne ;
My glafs is the fceptre by which I fhall reign,
Andmy whole privy council's a flalk of champaign.
When money comes in, I live till it's gone ;
While I have it, quite happy, contented with none.
If I lofe it at gaming, I think it but lent ;
If I fpend it genteelly, I'm always content :
Thus in mirth and good humour my gay hours
do pafs.
And on Saturday's night I am jufl as I was.
The Bagrie O'U
When I think on this warld's pelf,
And how little I hae o't to myfelf ;
I figh when I look to my thread-bare coat.
And ihame fa' the gecr and the bagrie o't.
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. 177
Johnny was the lad that held the plough.
But now he has got goiid and gear enough ;
I V eel mind thedaywhen he was naeworthagroatj
And ihame fa' the gear and the bagrie o't,
Jenny was the lafs that mucked the byre,
But now (he goes in her filken attire :
And fhe was a lafs who wore a plaiding coat,
And Ihamc fa' the gear and the bagrie o't.
Yet a' this fhall never danton me,
Sae lang's I keep my fancy free :
While IVe but a penny to pay t'other pot.
May fhame fa' the gear and the bagrie o't.
Dans Voire Lit,
Dans votre lit, my Fanny fay.
When paft the bufy hours of day ;
Stay and let me happy be,
To find you fometimes think on me,
Vans voire lit.
But whether abfent or in view,
My thoughts are fondly bent on you ;
When in my dreams' I'm full of glee.
And in my arms embracing thee,
Dans voire lit.
But foon as dawn appears, my fair,
The blifsful vifion's loH in air j
i-yS THE EDINBURGH SYREN J
Confent and you fhall quickly fee,
*Twill make it fweet reality,
Dans voire lit.
The foft confeffion make, my fair.
And with it glad my raptur'd ear 5
And in return Til fwear to thee,
Ten thoufand worlds I'd give to be
Dans voire lit.
Nancy of the Dale„
My Nancy leaves the rural train,
A camp's diftrefs to prove ; *
All other ills fhe can fuftain.
But living from her love :
Yet, deareft, tho' your foldier's there.
Will not your fpirit fail.
To mark the dangers you muft fhare,
Dear Nancy of the dale ?
Dear Nancy, &c.
Or fhould you, love, each danger fcorn,
Ah ! how fhall I fecure
Your health — 'mid toils which you were borne
To footh — but not endure :
A thoufand perils I muft view,
A thoufand ills aflail ;
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. I79
Nor muft I tremble e'en for you,
Dear Nancy of the dale.
Dear Nancy, &c.
PlatoU Advice.
Says Plato, why fhould man be vain,
Since bounteous heav'n hath made him great ?
Why looketh he with infolent difdain.
On thofe undeck'd with wealth or ftate I
Can coftly robes, or beds of down,
Or all the gems that deck the fair ;
Can all the glories of a crown,
(jive health or eafe the brow of care.
The fcepterM king, the burthen'd flaVcs
The humble, and the haughty die ;
The rich, the poor, the bafe, the brave.
In duft, without diftinftion lie :
Go, fearch the tombs where monarch's reft.
Who once the greateft titles wore.
Of wealth and glory they're bereft,
And all their honours afe no more.
So flies the meteor thro' the fkies.
And fpreads along a gilded train ;
When (hot-— 'tis gone-— its beauty dies— -
DifTolves to common air again .*
l%9 THE EDINBURGH SYREN ;
So 'tis with us, my jovial fouls,
Let friendfhip reign, while here we jR;ay ;
Let's crown our joys with flowing bowls,
When Jove commands we mull obey.
^mo, amas.
Amo amas,
I love a lals,
As a cedar tall and flender •
Sweet Cowflip's grace,
Is her nomn'tive cafe,
And (he's of the feminine gender.
CHORUS.
Rorum corum,
Sunt divorum,
Divo !.
Tag rag, merry derry, perriwig and hat-band,
Hie, hoc, horum, genativo !
Can I declincj
A nymph divine?
Her voice like a flute is dulcis ;
Her oculus bright.
Her manus white,
AvA foit, when I tado, her pulfe is.
Rorura conim, &C-.
or:, musical BOTJQuiir. iSx
Oh my Bella,
My puella !
I'll kifsj fecula feculorum :
If I've luck, fir,
She's my uxor ^
O dies benididorum !
Rorum coram, Sec
Bu^ ^borm "Traquair.
Hear me, ye nymphs, and ev'ry iwain,
I'll tell how Peggy grieves me ;
Though thus I languilh, thus complain.
Alas ! fhe ne'er believes me.
7 vows and fighs, like filent air?
Unheeded never move her.
At the bonny bufa aboon Traquair..
'Twas there I firft did love her.
That day {h^ fmiPd, and made nie Q;lad>
No, maid feem'd ever kinder ;
I thought myfelf the luckieft lad,
So fv/eetly there to find her.
I try'd to footh my am'rous flame.
In words that I thought tender ;
Vi more there pafs'd I'm not to blame,
I meant not to ofFend her.
The fields we theii freouented ;
t ' Q^
l82 THE EDINBURGH SYREN ^
If e'er we meet, llie fliews difdain.
She looks as ne'er acquainted.
The bonny bulh bloom'd fair in Mays
Its fweetfi I'll ay remember ;
But now her frowns make it decay.
It iades as in December.
Ye rural pow'rs, who hear my ftrains,
Why thus fhould Peggy grieve me ?
Oh ! make her partner in my painSj
Then let her fmiles relieve me.
If not, my love will turn defpair,
My paflion nae mair tender ;
I'll leave the bufh aboon Traquair^ .
To lonely wilds I'll wander.
Flowers of Edinburgh.
My love was once a bonny lad.
He was the flower of all his kiuj
The abfence of his bonny face
Has rent my tender heart in twain.
I day nor night find no delight ;
In filent tears I flirll complain ;
And exclaim 'gaind thofe my rival foesj
That lia'e ta'en from me my darling fwaini
Defpair and anguiili fills my breaft,
Since I have loll ray blooming rofej
I figh and moan while others reil ;
His ab,i€nce yields me no repofs.
OR, MUSICAL BOUCiUET. 183
To feek my love I'll range and rove,
Thro' ev'ry grove and diilant plain ;
Thus I'll ne'er ceafe, but fpend my days.
To hear tidings from my darling fwain.
There's naething ftrange in nature's changCj
Since parent's fhew fuch cruelty ;
They caus'd my love from me to range,
And knows not to what deftinyi
The pretty kids and tender lambs
May ceafe to fport upon the plain ;
But I'll mourn and lament in deep difcontent
For the abfence of my darling fwain.
Kind Neptune, let me thee entreaty
To fend a fair and pleafant gale ;
Ye dolphins fweet, upon me wait,
And convey me on your tail ;
Heavens blefs my voyage with fuccefsj
While croffing of the raging mair<,
And fend me fafe o'er to that diilant ihore^.
To meet my lovely darling fwain.
All joy and mirth at our return
Shall then abound from Tweed to Tay ?
The bells fhall ring, and fweet birds fmg,
To grace and crown our nuptial day,
Thus blefs'd wi' charms in my love's arms.
My heart once more I will regain ;
Then rii range no more to a diftant fhorcj
But in love w^ill enjoy my darling fwain.
.1^4 1HE EDINBURGH SYKE^ i
Ah! Ch!orh\ Tune, GlMerey.
Ah 1 ChloriSj ceuld I now but fit
As imconcernM as when
Your infant beauty could beget
No happinefs nor pain.
When I this davfning did admircj
And prais'd the corning day,
I Httle thought that rifmg fire
Would take my reft away.
Your charms in harmlefs childhood lay.
As metals in a mine.
Age from no face takes more away,.
Than youth conceal'd in thine»
But as your charms fofenfibly.
To their perfeftion preft :
So love as unperceiv'd did fly^
And centered in my breaft.
My paffion with your beauty grew^
While Cupid at my heart,
Still as his mother favour'd you.
Threw a new flaming dart.
Each gloried in their v/anton part i
To make a lover, he
Employ'd the utmofl of his art?
To make a beauty, fhe.
ORj MUSICAL BOUQUETo I85
Hap me w? thy Petticoat,
b Bell, thy looks hae kilPd my heart,
I pafs the day in pain j
When night returns 1 feel the fmart,
And wifh for thee in vain.
I'm ftarving cold^ while thou art warmj
Have pity and incline,
And grant me for a hap that charm-
ing petticoat of thine.
My ravifh'd fancy iii amaz^
Still wanders o*er thy charms^
Delufive dreams ten thoufand ways
Prefent thee to my arms.
But waking think what I endure, .
While cruel you decline
Thofe pleafures, which alone can cure
This panting breaft of mine.
I faint, I fail, and Wildly rovej
Becaufe you ftill deny
The juft reward that's due to love;,
And let true paflion die.
Oh ! turn, and let compaflion feize
That lovely breaft of thine ;
Thy petticoat could give me eafe.
If thou and it were mine.
Sure Heaven has fitted for delight
That beauteous form of thine^
0.3
tS6 THE EDINBURGH SYREN ;
And thou'rt too good its law to flight.
By hind'ring the defign ;
May all the powers of love agree.
At length to make thee mine ;
Or loofe my chains, and fat me free
From ev'ry charm of thine.
Lochaber no More.
Farewell to Lochaber, and farewell, my Jean,
Where heartfome with thee I have rr^Cny day been.
For Lochaber no more, Lochaber no more.
We'll may be return to Lochaber no more.
Thefe tears that I ihed they are a' for my dear.
And no for the dangers attending on weir ;
Tho* bore on rough feas to a far bloody Ihore,
May be to return to Lochaber no more,
Tho' hanicanes rife, and raife ev'ry wind.
They'll ne'er make a tempeft like that in my mind ;
Tho' loiideft of thunder on louder waves roar.
That's naething like leaving my love on the fhorcj,
To leave thee behind me, m^y heart is fair pain'd \
By eafe that's inglorious no fame can be gain'd';
And beauty and love's the reward of the brave,
And I maun deferve it before I can crave.
Then glory, my Jeany, maun plead my excufe j
Since honour commands me, hovr can I refufe t
OR, MUSICAL B0U<^7Et. 1B7
Without it I ne'er can have merit for thee,
And without thy favour IVi better not be.
I gae then, my lafs, to win honour and fame,
And if I Ihould kick to come glorioufly hame,
I'll bring a heart to thee with love running o*er,
And then I'll leave thee and Lochaber no more.
Peatfs Mill
The lafs of Peaty's mill.
So bonny, blithe, and gay,
In Ipite of ail my fkiil,
Hath ftole my heart away.
When tedding of the hay
Bare-headed on. the green,
Love 'midft her locks did play,
And wanton'd in her een.
Her arms, white, round, and fmooth,
Breafts rifmg in tlieir dawn,
To age it would give youth.
To prefs 'em with his hand :
Thro' all my fpirits ran
An extafy of blifs,
When I fuch fv/eetnefs fand
Wrapt in a balmy kifs.
Without the help of art,
Like flowers which grace the ^iW*
She did her fweets impart,
Whene'er ilie fpoke or fmil'd,
\BS THE EDINBURGH SYREK
Her looks they v/ere fo mildj
Free from affeded pridcj
She me to love beguil'd,
I wlfli'd her for my bride.
O had I all the wealth
Hoptoun's high mountain's fill^
Infur'd long life and health.
And pleafure at my will ;
I*d promife and fulfil,
That none but bonny fhe.
The lafs of Peaty's mill
Sou'd Ihare the fame v/ith me.
Ro/Iin Cq/i/e.
^TwAS in that feafon of the year.
When all things gay and fweet appear^,
That Colin, with the morning ray,
Arofe and {ung his rural lay.
Of Nanny's charms the fhepherd fung.
The hills and dales with Nanny rung.
While Rodin caftle heard the fwain.
And echo'd back the cheerful ftrain.
Awake, fweet mufe, the breathing fpring
With rapture warms, awake and fing ;
Awake, and join the vocal throng.
And hail the morning with a fong i
ORj MUSICAL BOUQUET. 189
To Nanny raife the cheerful lay,
O bid her hafte and come away ;
In fweeteft fmlles herfelf adorn,
And add new graces to the morn.
O hark, my love, on every fpray
Each feather'd warbler times his lay ; ■
'Tis beauty fires the ravijQi'd throng,
And love infpires the melting fong ;
Then let my raviih'd notes arife,
For beauty darts from Nanny's eyes,
And love my rifmg bofom warms.
And nils my foul with fweet alarms.
O come, my love, thy Colin's lay,
With rapture calls, O come away ;
Come, while the mufe this wreath fhall twine
Around that modeft brov/ of thine ;
O hither hafte, and with thee bring
That beauty, blooming like the fpring,
Thofe graces that divinely fliine.
And charm tliis raviih'd heart of mine.
Low donvn in the Broom^
Mv dgddy is a cankar'd carle.
He'll nae twin wi' his gear ;
My minny flie's a fcalding wife,
llad's a' the houfe a-fteer ;
J^gO THE EDiyBUUGH SYREN ;
^■
But let them fay, or let them do,
It's a' ane to me ;
For he's low down, he's in the broom.
That's waiting on me.
Waiting on me, my love.
He's waiting on me ;
For he's low down, he's in the broom.
That's waiting on me.
My aunty Kate fits at her wheel,
And fair (he lightlies me ;
But weel ken I it's a' envy.
For ne'er a jo has Ihe.
But let them, &c»
My coufm Kate was Mr beguil'd
Wi' Johnny i' the glen ;
And ay fmfyne fhe cries, Beware
Of falfe deluding men*
But let them, te
Glied Sandy he came waft ae night,
And Ipier'd when I faw Pate ;
And ay fmfyne the neighbours round
They jeer me air and late.
But let them, &c,
Now Jenny Ihe's gane down the broom,
And it's to meet wi' Pate ;
But what they faid, or what they did,
*Tis needieis to repeat :
But let them, &c,
OR, MUSICAL SOUCiUET. J9I
But they feem'd blyth and weel content,
Sae merry ma't they be ;
For a conftant fwain has Pattle prov'd,
and nae lefs kind was Ihe.
Ye'ave waited on me, my love^
Ye'ave waited on me,
Ye'ave waited lang amang the brooi^
Now I am bound to thee»
Sae let them fay, or let them do,
'Tis a' ane to me ;
For I hay,e vow'd to love you, lad.
Until the day I die.
My Jo JaneU
3wEET Sir, for your courtcfie,
When ye come by the Bais then.
For the love ye bear to me,
Buy me a keeking-glafs then.
Keek into the draw-well, Janet, Janet,
Arid there ye'll fee your bonny fell, my jo Janet.
Keeling in the draw-well clear.
What if I fnould fa' in,
'Syne a' my kin will fay and fwear^
I drown'd niyfel for'fm.
Had the better by the brae, Janet, Jane^-^
Had the better by the brae, my jo Janet,
igZ THE EDINBURGH SYREN f
Good Sir, for your courtefie,
Coming thro' Aberdeen then.
For the love ye bear to me,
Buy me a pair of llioon then.
Clout the auld, the new are dear, Janet, Janet ;
Ae pair may gain ye ha'f a year, my jo Janet.
But what if dancing on the green,
And fkipping like a mawkin,
If they fhould fee *my clouted Ihoon,
Of me they will be tanking.
Dance ay laigh and late at een, Janet, Janet ;
Syne a' there faults will no be feen, my jo Janet
Kind Sir, for your courtefie,
When ye gae to the crofs then,
For the love ye bear to me.
Buy me a pacing horfe then.
Pace upo' your fpinning-wheel, Janet, Janetj
Pace upo' your fpinning-wheel, my jo Janet*
My fpinning-wheel is auld and ftifF,
The rock o't winna ftand, Sir,
To keep the temper-pin in tiff,
Employs aft my hand. Sir.
Mak the beft o't that ye can, Janet, Janet ;
But like It never v/ale a man, inv j-o Janet,
OR, MUSICAL BOUQU£T» l^^
Woo^d and married and a', ♦>
Woo'd and married and a*,
Woo'd and married and a'.
Was flie nae very weel afF,
Was woo'd and married and a'.
The bride came out of the byre.
And O as Ihe dighted her cheeks^
Sirs, I'm to be married the night,
And has neither blankets nor (heetSp
Has neither blankets nor IheetSj
Nor fcarce a coverlet too ;
The bride that has a' to borrow
Has e'en right meikle ado.
Woo'dy and married, &g.
Out fpake the bride's fiither,
As he came in frae the plough ;
0 had your tongue, my doughterj,
And ye's get gear enough ;
Tlie ftirk that ftands i' the tether^
And our bra' bafm'dyade,
Will carry ye hame your corn,
"What wad ye be at, ye jad ?
Woo'd and married, &c.-
C^nt fpafee the bride's mither,
>?liat d — 1 needs a' this pride ;
1 had nae a plack in my pouch,
Tbat nii^ht I was a biide ;
194 THE EDINBURGH SYRE!* ;
My gown was linfy-woolfy,
And ne'er a fark ava ;
And ye Iiae ribbons and bufkins,
Mae than ane or twa.
Woo'd and married, &c.
What's the matter, quo* Willie,
Tho' we be fcant o' claiths,
We'll creep the nearer the gither.
And we'll fmore a' the flaes :
Simmer is coming on,
And we'll get teats of woo ;
And we'll get a lafs o' our ain,
And Ihe'li fpin claiths enew.
Woo'd and married, &c.
Out fpake the bride's brither,
As he came in wi' the ky ;
Poor Willie had ne'er a ta'en ye^
Had he kent ye as weel as I ;
For you're baith proud and faucy.
And no for a poor man's wife ;
Gin I canna get a better,
Ife ne'er tak ane i' my life.
Woo^d and married, &c.
Out fpake the bride's fifter,
As (he came in frae the byre ;
O gin I were but married,
It's a' that I defire ;
But we poor fo'k maun live fingle.
And do the be ft we can :
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. 1^5
1 dmna care what I fhou'd v/ant,
If I cou'd get but a man.
Woo'd and married, &c.
Katty^s Anjiver,
My mither's ay glowran o'er me,
Tho' fhe did the fame before me ;
I canna get leave to look on my love.
Or elfe fhe'll be like to devour me.
Right fain wad I tak ye'r offer,
Sweet Sir, but I'll tyne my tocher ;
Then, Sandy, ye'll fret, and wyte ye're poor Kate^
Whene'er ye keek in your toom coffer.
For tho' my father has plenty
Of filler and plenilhing dainty,
Yet he's unco' fweer to twin wi' his gear ;
And fae we had need to be tenty.
Tutor my parents wi' caution,
Be wylie in ilka motion :
Brag weel o* ye'er land, and there's my leal hanc^.
Win them, I'm at your devotion.
R±
5^6 THE EDINBURGH SYREN J
We* re gaily yet.
We're gayly yet, and we're gayiy yet,
And we're no very fou, but we're gayly yet,
Then fit ye a v/hile and tipple a bit.
For we're no very fou, but we're gayly yet.
There was a lad, and they ca'd him Dicky,
He gae me a kifs, and I bit his lippy ;
Then under my apron he lliow'd me a trick ;
And we're no very lou, but we're gayly yet.
And we're gayly yet, &c.
There were three lads, and they v/ere clad.
There were three lafles, and they them had.
Three trees in the orchard are newly fprung,
And we's a' get gear enough, we're but young.
Then up wi't Aillie, Aillie,
Up wi't, Aillie, now.
Then up wi't, Aillie, quo' cummer,
We's a' get roaring fou.
And one was kifs'd in the barn,
Another was kifs'd on the green?
The third behind the peafe ftack,
Till the mow flew up to her een.
Then up wi't, &c.
Now fy, John Thomfon, rin,
Gin ever ye ran in your life ;
ORj. MUSICAL BOUQUET. I97
De'il get ye, but hey, my dear Jack,
There's a man got a-bed with your wife.
Then up wi't, &c.
Then away John Thomfon ran,
And 1 trow he ran wi' fpeed ;
But before he had run his length,
The falfe loon had done the deed.
We're gayly yet, &c.
The happy Fello<Wi
WiTHmyjuginonehand, and my pipe in the other-;
I'll drink to my neighbour and friend ;
My cares in a whiff of tobacco I'll fmother,
Since life I know Ihortly muft end :
"V^hile Ceres moil kindly refils my brown jug,
With good ale I'll make myfelf mellov/ ;
In my old wicker chair Pil fet myfelf fnug,
Like a jolly andVue-hearted fellow.
ITi ne'er trouble my head v/ith the cares of the
nation ;
I've enough of my own for to mind ;
For the care^ of this life are but grief and vexation.
To death we muft all be conlign'd :
Then I laugh, drink, and fmcke, and leave nothing
to pay.
But drop like a pear that is mellovrj
R3
198 THE EDINBURGH SYHEN ;
And when cold in my coffin I'll leave them to fay.
He's gone, what a hearty good fellow !
Loch-Erock Side.
As I came by Loch-Erock fide.
The lofty hills furveying,
The water clear, the heather bells
Their fragrant fweets conveying ;
I met unthought my lovely lafs,
I found her like May morningj
With bluihes fweet and charms fae rare,
Her perfon ail adorning.
Sae kind her looks, how bled was I,
When in my arms I clafp'd her,
And fhe her wifhes fcarce conceal'd,
As fondly I carefs'd her ;
She laid, if that ye'll conftant provej,
And evermore will love me,
I heed not Care's nor Fortune's frown.
Nor ought but death fhall move me.
But conftant, loving, true and kind.
For ever you will find me,
And of our meeting here fae fweet,
Loch-Erock fide fhall mind me.
Inraptur'd then, my lovely maid,
I cry'd nae mair we'll tarry,
But leave the fweet Loch-Erock fide,
For lovers foon ihould marry.
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. 299
The d'lfconfolate Sailor.
When my money was gone which I gain'd In the
wars,
And the world 'gan to frown on my fate ;
What matter'd my zeal or my honoured fears,
When indifference flood at each gate.
The face that would fmile when my purfe was well
lin'd,
ShowM a different afpedl to me ;
And when I could nought but ingratitude find,
I hi'd once again to the fea.
I thought it unwlfe to repine at my lot,
Or to bear with cold looks on the fhore ;
So I pack'd up the trifling remnants I'd got,
And a trifle, alas ! was my ftore.
A handkerchief held all the treafure I had,
Which over my fhoulder I thr«w ;
Away then I trudg'd with a heart rather fad.
To join with fome jolly fhip's crew.
The fea was lefs troubled by far than my mind.
For when the wide main I furvey'd,
I could not help thinking the world was unkind^
And Fortune a flippery jade.
And I vow'd if once I could take her in tow,
I'd let the ungrateful ones fee^
too THE EDINBURGH SYREN;
That the turbulent winds and the billows could
fhow
More kindnefs than they did to me.
^he merry Salioru
How pleafant a failor's life paffes,
, Who roams o'er the watery main j
No trealiire he ever amaiTes,
But cheerfully fpends all his gain :
We're ftrangers to party and fadion,
To honour and honefty true,
And would not commit a bafe adion^
For power and profit in view,
CHORUS.
Then why ihould we quarrel for riches,
Or any fuch glittering toys ?
A light heart and a thin pair of breeches,
Goes thro' the worlds rny brave boys.
The world is a beautiful garden,
Enrich'd v/ith the bleffings of life ;
The toiler with plenty rewarding.
But plenty too often breeds ftrife ;
When terrible tempefts aifail us,
And mountainous billows affright,
No grandeur nor wealth can avail us.
But f^iilfiil indullry fleers right.
Then why,* &c.
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET* 201
The com tier's more fubjedl to danger^.
Who rales at the helm of the ilate ;
Than we, who to politics ftrangers,
Efcape the fnares laid for the great ;
The numerous bleffings of nature,
In various nations we try ;
No mortals on earth can be greater.
We merrily live till we die.
Then why, &c»
T/je Sailor'' s Confolation,.
Jack was fo comely, fo pleafant, fo jolly,
Tho' winds blew great guns, ftill he'd whiftle
and fmg ;
Jack lov'd his friends, and was true to his Molly %
And if honour gives greatnefs, was great as a
king.
One night as we drove with two reefs in the
mainfail.
And the feud came on low'ring upon a lee-fhore,
Jack went up a loft for to hand the top-ga'ntfail,
A fpray walh'd him off, and we ne'er fawhim more*
We ne'er faw him more !
CHORUS.
But grieving's a folly ;
Come, let us be jolly.
If we've troubles at fea, boys^
We've pleafures afhore.
I02 THE EDINBURGH SYREN ;•
WliifHingTomftill of mifchieforfun in theiniddle.
Thro' life in all weathers at random would jog.
He'd dance, and he'd fnig, and he'd play on the
fiddle.
And fwig with an air his allowance of grog :
Long-fide of a Don, in the Terrible frigate,
As yard arm and yard arm we lay off the fhore,
In and out whiffling Tom did fo caper and jig^itt.
That his head was fliot oiF, and we ne'er faw
him more I
But grieving's a folly, &c.
Bonny Ben was to each jolly meffmate d brother.
He was manly and honeO:, good-natur'd, and free;
If ever one tar was more true than another.
To his friend and his duty, that failor was he :
One day with thedavid to heave the cadge anchor,
Ben went in a boat, on a bold craggy Ihore ;
He overboard tipt, when a fhaik and a fpanker
Soon nipt him in two, and we ne'er faw him more.
But grieving's a folly, &c.
But what of it all, lads, fliall we be down-hearted?
Becaufe that, mayhap, Vv-e now take our laft fup ;
Life's cable rnuft one day or other be parted.
And death in faft mooring will bring us all up ;
But 'tis always the way on't, one fcarce finds a
brother
Fond as pitch, honed, hearty, and true to the core,
But by battle, or ftorm, or fome d — 'd thing or
other,
He's popp'd off the hooks, and we ne'er fee him
more. But grieving's a folly, &c.
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. '2O3
the Tar for all IVeathers.
I sail'd from the Downs in the Nancy,
My jib, how flie fmack'd thro' the breeze.
She's a velTel quite rigg'd to my fancy,
As ever fail'd on the fait feas. , ,
Then adieu to the white chfFs of Britain,
Our girls and our dear native fhore ;
For if fome hard rock we Ihou'd fplit on.
We ne'er ihould fee them any more.
But failors are born for all weathers.
Great guns let it blow high, blow loWy
Our duty keeps us to our leathers.
And vv'here the gale drives we muPc go.
When we enter'd the gut of Gibraltar,
I veriiv thought flie'd have funk,
For the v/ind fo began for to alter ;
She yaul'd juft as tho' Die was drunk.
The fquall tore the mainfaii to ihivers,
Helm a-weather, the hoarfe boatfwain cries j
Set the forefail a'thwart fea, fhe quivers.
As thro' the rough temped Ihe flies.
But failors, &c.
The ilorm came on thicker and fafter.
As black then as pitch was the fky >
But then what a dreadful difafter .
Befel three poor feamen and I y
204 '^^^ EDINBURGH SYREN J
Ben Buntlen, Sam Shroud, and Di^^k Handfailj
By a gale that came furious and hard j
And as we were furling the mainfail.
We were every foul fwept from the yard.
But failors, &c.
Poor Ben, Sam, and Dick cried peccavi,
When I at the rifk of my neck,
V/hiie in peace they funk down to old Davys^
Caught a rope, and fo landed on deck.
Well, what would you have, we were ftranded.
And out of a fine jolly crew,
Of three hundred that fail'd, ne\er landed.
But 1, and I think, twenty-two.
But failors, &c.
At laft then at fea having mifcarried.
Another guefs way fet the wind ;
To England I came and got married.
To a lafs that was comely and kindo
But whether for joy or vexation,
We know not for what we were bom |
Perhaps we may find a kind ftation,
Perhaps we may touch at Cape Horn.
But failors, &c.
Britannia f or^ the Death of Wolfe,
In a mouldering cave, a wretched retreal:^
Britannia fat wafted with care :
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. 20^
She wept for her Wolfe, then exclalm'd againfl;
Fate,
And gave herfelf up to defpalr.
The walls of her cell Ihe had fculptur'd around
With th' exploits of her fav'rite fon ;
Nay, ev'n the duft, as it lay on the ground.
Was engrav'd with fome deeds he had done.,
The fire of the Gods, from his chryftaline throne.
Beheld the difconfolate dame.
And, mov'd with her tears, fent Mercury down.
And thefe were the tidings that came :
*' Britannia forbear, not a figh nor a tear.
For thy W^olfe fo defervedly lov'd ;
Thy grief fliall be chang'd into tumults of joy,
For Wolfe is not dead, but removed.
" The fons of the earth, the proud giants of old,
Have fled from their darkfome abodes ;
And, fuch is the news that in heaven is told,
They are marching to war with the Gods.
A council was held in the chamber of Jove,
And this was their final decree ;
That Wolfe fliould be calPd to the army above,
And the charge was entrufted to me.
^* To the plains of Quebec with the orders I flew,
Wolfe begg'd for a moment's delay :
He cry'd, " Oh, forbear, let me viftory hear,
" And then the commands I'll obey."
With a dark'ning film I encompafs'd his eyes.
And bo¥e him away m an urn ;
S
206 THE EDINBURGH SYREN ;
Left the fondnefs he bore to his own native llion
Might tempt him again to return."
Mind, Huffy, 'what ye do.
When I was of a tender age.
And in my youthful prime.
My mother often in a rage,
Cried, girl, take care in time ;
For you're of late fo forward grown^
The men will you purfue ;
And all day along it was her tone.
Mind, hulTy, what ye do.
Mind, huffy, vhat you do, you do.
Mind, huffv, what vou do ;
-^nd all day along it was her tone.j
Mind, huiTy, what you do.
Regardlefs of her fond advice,.
I haften'd o'er the plain,
Where I was courted in a trice.
By each young fylvan fwain :
But, by the by, I do declare,
A lad I had in view,
Altho' it was my mother's cry,
Mind, hulTy, what you do.
Mind, huffy, &c.
OR, MUSICAL BOUQUET. 20*
To Damon, gayeft of the green,
I gave my youthful hand,
His blooming face and comely mein,
I could not well withftand ;
O then to church \ve tripp'd away,
With hearts both light and true ;
And now my mother ceas'd to cry.
Mind, huffy, what you do.
Mind, hulTy, &c.
Now, ladies all, I pray attend,
And hence this lelTon learn.
If to your mind a man you find,
: Look not morofe nor ftern ;
But take him with a free good will,
If he's got love for you,
Altho' your mother's crying ftill.
Mind, huffy, what you do.
Mind, huffy, what you do,
Mind, huffy, what you do, you do^
Mind, huffy, what you do ;
Altho' your mother's crying flill.
Mind, huffy, what you do.
rd thhili en thee, my Lo've.
In ftorms when clouds obfcure the fky.
And thunders roll, and lightning's flyj
S2
ZOB THE EDINBURGH SYREN.
In midft of all thefe dire alarms,
I think, my Sally, on thy charms.
The troubled main,
The wind and rain,
My ardent paffion prove,
Ladi'd to the helm,
Should feas o'erwhelm,
I'd think on thee, my love.
When rocks appear on every fide,
Arid art is vain the fhip to guide,
In varied fhapes when death appears,
The thoughts of thee my bofom cheers.
The troubled main, &c.
But fhou'd the gracious pow'rs be kind,
Difpel the gloom and ftill the wind.
And waft me to thy arms once more.
Safe to my long-loft native fhore ;
No more the main,
I'd tempt again.
But tender joys im.prove ;
I'd then with thee
Should happy be,
And think on nought but love.
THE END,
CONTENTS,
A
A rofe tree full In hearings - - - 48
A tinker I am and my name's Natty Sain^ - 62
A plague of thefe mujiy old lubberSf - - 64
A voyage over the feas had not entered my head, 76
All you who ivould tui/h tofucceed with a lafs, 81
As you mean to fet fail for the land of delight 8-^8
AJlaxen-headed cow hoy, - - 95
At Totter down Hill there dwelt an old pair, - 97
A bed of mofs we^lljlraight prepare, - - 108
As bringing home the other day, - - 1 46
Ajfjl me, ye lads, who have hearts void of guile 152
Afweetfcented Beau, and afimp\ing young Cit, 1 60
Ah! what avails thy lover s prayef, - 170
Amo, amas, - - - - 180
Ah ! Chloris, could I now but fit, - - 1 84
As I came by Loch-Eroclifide, - - - 198
B
J5y moon-light en thg Green, - - "52
By the gaily circling glafs, - - - ^6
By roguery, 'tis true, - - .- - 108
Beneath a green fhade^ a hvelv young f wain ^ iz'j
" S 3
ilO COM TENTS.
PAGE
Behold this fair goblet ^ Unvas carved from the ire-, 1 5 3
Blotu high, blow low, let tempejls tear the mdin-majl, 158
Bright Phabus has mounted the chariot of day, 159
By Logan' s ftreams that runfae deep, - - 170
c
Cojm, come, my jolly lads, » - - 13
Come live with me, and be my love, - 66
Come, now, all ye facial powers, . - 148
Contented I am, and contented Pll be, - 175
D
Dear is my little native vale, > » - 49
Down the burn and, thro* the mead, - 99
Dear Tom,this brown jug that nowfoamswithmildale, 158
Dans voire lit, my Fanny fay, - 177
E
Encompafs''d in an angePsframe, - 3^
Ere bright Rofina tnet my eyes, - - . 7^
F
For tmdernefs fajloion^ d, in lifers early day, 49
Farewell ye green fields and fweet groves, - 119
Farewell to Lochaber, and farewell my Jean, J 86
G
Go patter to lubbers and fwabs d'ye fee, " 5
Gin I had a wee hoife, and a canty wee fire, 1 43
H
Hard are the times ^ is the cry, ^tis no wonder, 2 7
How blefl the maid whofe bofom, * 3^
CONTENTS. 211
PAGE
Happy's the love that meets return, - - 47
Her mouth, iv'itb a f mile, - - "5^
Had Neptune ivhenjirjl he took charge ofthefea, 6 1
Here's to the maiden of brjhful Jifteen, - 7^
Hoiv tmperfed; is exprejfmn, - - 80
Hoiv happy' s thejoldier ivho lives on his pay, 90
Hoiu kind and how good of his dear majejly, 1 06
Hoiv blithe nvas I each morn to fee, - 124
Howblefl has my time been P what joys have I known 1 39
How fweet In the woodlands, - - J 69
Hear me ye nymphs and ev'ry fwaln, - 18 1
How pleafant afalior's life pajfes, ■^ - 2 00
I
/ was, d'ye fee, a waterman, - - 29
I am a jolly ffherman, -^ - - 32
In m 1; pleafant native plain, - - 37
I've plenty of lovers thai fue me In vain, - 41
I fing the Brlttfh feaman' s pralfe, - 42
I'm a vot'ry of Bacchut, his godflolp adore, 45
yack Rattlln was the ahlefl featnan, - 66
I fair d In tbe good flolp Kitty, - - 93
In April when prlmrofes paint the fweet plaluy 1 10
I travers'd Jiidah's barren fand, - - 167
Jack wai fo comely, fo pleafant, fo jolly, 201
I fall' d from the downs In the Nancy, - 203
In a mould' ring cave, a wretched retreat, 204
Inflorms when clouds obfcure thefky, <- 207
212 CONTENTS.
PAGE
L
het care he ajiranger to each jovial foul, - 54
Lord, ivhat care we for France or Spain, - 84
Loll Valentine's day when Pheehusfhone clear, 130
Leave neighhours, your work, and to fporl and toplay,l^%
Lfe^s like afea in confl ant motion, - 163
M
Ma chere arme, my charming fair, - 71
Merry may the maid be, - - r 9^
Myfheep I negkeied, I hfl my fheep-hook, J 26
My Jeany and I ha^ toiPd, - -r 1 46
My name is honejl Harry 0, - - 155
My bonny failor'' s won my mind, - 162
My Nancy leaves the rural plain, - - 17^
My love was once a bonny lad, - r 182
3Iy daddy is a canker'* d carle, - - 1 89
My mither's ay glowran o^er me, - 1 95
N
No more Pll court the town-bred fair, - . 21
No flower that blows is like this rofe, - -72
No more my fongfhall be ye fwains, - 1 2 8
Now 'jockey is a bonny lad, a merry lad, - 1 7 1
o
On Richmond hill there lives a lafs, - - 15
Ofay,fimple maid, have you formed any notion, 77
On Ef trick's banks^ in a Summer nighty - 1 1 7
CONTENTS. 213
PAGE
Om midfummer morning nvhen nature looked gay y 1 20
0 Sandy! tvhy Iea-b*Jl thou thy Nelly to mourn, 1 23
On the green f edgy hanks of the fiveet winding Tay 1 6S
0 Beil, thy looks have kiWd my hearty » 1 85
R
Returning from the fair one evSy - 1 2
S
See the courje throng' d with ga%ers, - - 35
Siueet Poll of Plymouth was my deary - 67
Some how myfpindle I miflaid, - - 7®
Sleep on,fleep on, my Kathleen dear, - '^'^
Sing the loves of John and jfean, - 1 03
Since love is the plan, - 1 - 1 3 *
Says Plato, whyjhouldman be vain, - 1 79
Sweet Sir, for your courte/te, - - 1 9 1
T
Tho'' Bacchus may boajl of his care-killing bowl 7
^Twas in a village near Cafllebury, - 1 4
To Anacreon in heaven where he fat in full glee y 1 9
To my mufe give attention, and deem it not a myflery 2 2
The moment Aurora peep'd into my roomy - 25
^Twas in the good flAp Rover, - - 34
Tho^ the fate of battle on to-morrew wait, - 38
Thefunfets in night, and theflarsfhun the day, 46
The moon had climFd the highe/l hill, - - 50
-The meadows bok charming, the birds fweetlyjing, 5 %
214 CONTENTS.
PAGE
"The <iveallhy fool lu'ith gold injlore, - c «
Th'is^ tJnsy my lacPs a foldier's I'lfe^ - 63
The topfmls JJjtver in the 'wind, - - 60
That girl ivho fain ivould choofe a mate,, - -73
The Ivor Id, my dear Myra, is full of deceit^ 75
The llujh of Aurora noiu tinges the morn, - 79
The ivand' ring failor ploivs the main, - 82
Then farewell my trim-built wherry, - - 83
Thus, thus, my boys the anchor s weighed, - 85
The twins of Latonafo kind to my boony - 86
The lafl time I came o'er the muir, - - 1 00
The fmiling morn, the breathing fpring, - iie
Thefther moon^s enamoured beam, - 121
The echoing horn calls thefportfmen away, 129
Tho* Lexlip is proud of its clofejhady bowVs, 132
Thefummerit was fmiling, all nature round was gay, 135
' TVs nae very langjinfyne, - - - 1 4A
The fields were green, the hills were gay, 1 45
The mind of a woman can never be known - 1 49
The fun from the eafl tips the mountains with gold, 156
Time has not thinn'd myjlowing hair, - 1 69
This bleak and frqjly morning, - - 1 72
The lafs of Peatfs mill, - ^ 187
^ Twas in that feafon of the year, - 188
U
Up amangyon cliffy rocks, . m - - 8
CONTENTS. 215
PAGE
w
When Jirjl I hen^d young Samly's face^i -s 10
When the fancy -Jiirring boivl^ - - - j I
When I took my depdrture fromDiihlirC s fnvcet ton.un^\G
With a cheerful old friend and a merry old fang, 56
When the chill Sirocco bioius, - - - cy
When J eve was refo/v'd to create the round earth, 58
When Britain jirjl, at he alien's command, ~ 59
When it is night and the mid-ivatch is come, 67
Whiljl happy in my native land, » = 6?
When little on the village green, - - - 9^
Where Tiveed and TeviotJIreams unite, - 93
What beauties does Flora difclofe, - - JOI
While the lads of the village JJjall merrily ah I - 103
While up the fhrouds thefailor goes, - - l O C
When Tanho, dear fight far aivay, - 107
Wine, ivine nve allotv the bri/h fountain of mirth, 1 1 1
Whenjirfl a maid 'within her breojl, - 112
When fummer comes, the fivains on Tweed, 113
When trees did bud, and fields ivere green, - 116
When wars alarms enticed my Willy from me, l?^
When thefheep were in the fauld and the hy at hame, 133
When the trees were all bare, not a leaf to befeen, 141
When the men a courting came, - I ro
Will ye gang o'er the lee~rig, - - 152
Where'er I am going, and all the day long, 1 6 1
When weary Sol gang'd down the weflg - 166
2X6 CbNTENTS.,
PAGE
When fairies dance round on the grafs, - i 74
While o^er the raging roaring feas J - - 175
When I think on this ivarld's pelf, - 176
Woo^d and married and a\ - - 193
We^re gayly yet^ and 'we're gayly yety " 196
With my jug in one hand^ and my pipe in the other ^ 197
When my money nvas gone that I gained in the wars, 199
When I was of a tender age, ■<• - 206
y
Tou^re welcome to Paxton, Robin Jdair, 4 1
Toung Jocley he courted fweet Moggy fo fair, 74
Tefporffmen draw near, and ye fportf women too, 87
Tou know Pm your priejl and your confcimce is mine, 95
FINI8^
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