Till the Diamond's Ace, of Indian race, Led him a fair faux pas, man: The Saxon lads, wi' loud placads, 1 An' Scotland drew her pipe an' blew, Up, Willie, waur them a' man!' VIII. Behind the throne then Gr-nv-lle's gone, Be-north the Roman wa', man: An' Chatham's wraith, in heavenly graith, (Inspired Bardies faw, man) Wi' kindling eyes cry'd, Willie, rife! • Would I hae fear'd them a', man!' IX. But, word an' blow, N-rth, F-x and Co. Gowff'd Willie like a ba', man, Till Suthron raife, and cooft their claise Behind him in a raw, man: An' Caledon threw by the drone, 1 An' did her whittle draw, man: An' fwoor fu' rude, thro' dirt an' blood To mak it guid in law, man. SONG SONG. Tune, Corn rigs are bonnie. I. IT was upon a Lammas night, The time flew by, wi' tentless heed, Till 'tween the late and early; Wi' fma' perfuafion fhe agreed, To fee me thro' the barley. VOL. II. I II. II. The sky was blue, the wind was ftill, I ken't her heart was a' my ain; I kifs'd her owre and owre again III. I lock'd her in my fond embrace; My bleffings on that happy place, Amang the rigs o' barley! That shone that hour fo clearly! She She ay shall bless that happy night, - IV. I hae been blythe wi' comrades dear; I hae been merry drinkin; I hae been joyfu' gath'rin gear; Tho' three times doubl'd fairly, CHORU S. Corn rigs, an' barley rigs, I'll ne'er forget that happy night, Amang the rigs wi' Annie. |