S ON G. Tune, Corn rigs are bonie, I. It was upon a Lammas night, When corn rigs are bonie, The time flew by, wi' tentless head, II. The fky was blue, the wind was ftill, I kent her heart was a' my ain; I lov'd her moft fincerely; Iker owre and owre again, Amang the rigs o' barley. III. I lock'd her in my fond embrace; But by the moon and stars fo bright, IV. I hae been blythe with comrades dear; Tho' three times doubl'd fairly, That happy night was worth them a', Amang the rigs o' barley. CHOR U S. Corn rigs, au' barley rigs, An' corn rigs are bonie: I'll ne'er forget that happy night, SON G, COMPOSED IN AUGUST. Tune, I had a horfe, I had nae mair. I. Now weftlin winds, and slaughtʼring guns Bring Autumn's pleasant weather; Now waving grain, wide o'er the plain, And the moon fhines bright, when I rove at night, To mufe upon my Charmer. II. The Patridge loves the fruitful fells; The Plover loves the mountains; III. Thus ev'ry kind their pleasure find, The favage and the tender; Some focial join, and leagues combine; Some folitary wander : Avaunt, away! the cruel fway, The Sportsman's joy, the murd'ring cry, IV. But, Peggy dear, the ev'ning's clear, And view the charms of Nature; The rustling corn, the fruited thorn, V. We'll gently walk, and fweetly talk, So dear can be, as thou to me, BEHIND yon hills where Stinchar flows, 'Mang moors and moffes many, O, The wintry fun the day has clos'd, And I'll away to Nannie, O, II. The weftlin wind blaws loud an' fhrill; III. My Nannie's charming, fweet an' young; Nae artfu' wiles to win ye, O; May ill befa' the flattering tongue That wad beguile my Nannie, O. IV. Her face is fair, her heart is true, As fpotlefs as fhe's bonie, O; The op'ning gowan, wat wi' dew, 2 |