'Twas ae night lately, in my fun,

I gaed a roving wi' the gun,

An' brought a Paitrick to the grun',

A bonie hen,

And, as the twilight was begun,

Thought nane wad ken,

The poor, wee thing was little hurt;

I ftraikit it a wee for sport,

Ne'er thinkin they wad fash me for't;

But, Deil-ma-care!

Somebody tells the Poacher-court

The hale affair.

Some auld, us'd hands had ta'en a note,

That fic a hen had got a fhot;

I was fufpected for the plot ;

I fcorn'd to lie;

So

gat the whifsle o' my groat,

An' pay't the fee.

But, by my gun, o'guns the wale,

An' by my pouther an' my hail,
An' by my hen, an' by her tail,

I vow an' fwear!

The Game fhall pay, o'er moor an' dale,

For this, nieft year.

As foon's the clockin time is by,

An' the wee pouts begun to cry,

L-d, Ife hae fportin by an' by,

For my gow'd guinea;

Tho' I fhould herd the buckskin kye

For't in Virginia.

Trowth, they had muckle for to blame ! "Twas neither broken wing nor limb,

But twa-three draps about the wame

'Scarce thro' the feathers;

An' baith a yellow George to claim,

An' thole their blethers!

It pits me ay as mad's a hare;
So I can rhyme nor write nae mair;
But pennyworths again is fair,

When time's expedient s

Meanwhile I am, refpected Sir,

Your moft obedient.

JOHN BARLEYCORN.*

A

BALL A D.

THERE

I.

HERE was three kings into the east,

Three kings both great and high,

And they hae fworn a folemn oath,

John Barleycorn fhould die.

II.

They took a plough and plough'd him down,

Put clods upon his head,

And they hae fworn a folemn oath

John Barleycorn was dead.

III.

But the chearful Spring came kindly on,

And fhow'rs began to fall

;

*This is partly compofed on the plan of an old fong known by the fame name.

John Barleycorn got up again,
And fore furprised them all.

IV.

The fultry funs of Summer came,
And he grew thick and strong,
His head weel arm'd wr' pointed fpears,
That no one fhould him wrong.

V.

The fober Autumn enter'd mild,
When he grew wan and pale;
His bending joints and drooping head
Show'd he began to fail.

VI.

His colour ficken'd more and more,

He faded into age;

And then his enemies began

To fhew their deadly rage.

VII.

They've taen a weapon, long and sharp,

And cut him by the knee; They ty'd him faft upon a cart,

Like a rogue for forgerie.

VIII.

They laid him down upon his back,
And cudgel'd him full fore;

They hung him up before the ftorm,

And turn'd him o'er and o'er.

They heaved in John Barleycorn,
There let him fink or swim.

X.

They laid him out upon the floor,
To work him farther woe,
And ftill, as figns of life appear'd,
They tofs'd him to and fro.

XI.

They wafted, o'er a fcorching flame,
The marrow of his bones;

But a Miller us'd him worst of all,

He crufh'd him 'tween two ftones,

XII.

And they hae taen his very heart's blood,
And drank it round and round;
And still the more and more they drank,
Their joy did more abound.

XIII,

John Barleycorn was a hero bold,,

Of noble enterprise,

For if you do but tafte his blood,,

'Twill make your courage rife.

XIV.

'Twill make a man forget his woe;

"Twill heighten all his joy:

'Twill make the widow's heart to fing,

Tho' the tear was in her eye.