They laid him out upon the floor They wasted o'er a scorching flame For he crush'd him 'tween two stones. And they hae taen his very heart's blood, John Barleycorn was a hero bold, For if you do but taste his blood, "Twill make a man forget his woe; Then let us toast John Barleycorn. The Rigs o' Barlry. (309) TUNE-Corn Rigs are bonnie. Ir was upon a Lammas night, When corn rigs are bonnie, Beneath the moon's unclouded light, I heft awa to Annie: The time flew by wi' tentless heed, The sky was blue, the wind was still, I lock'd her in my fond embrace; I hae been blythe wi' comrades dear; I hae been joyfu' gath'rin' gear; Tho' three times doubl'd fairly, That happy night was worth them a’, Amang the rigs o' barley. CHORUS. Corn rigs, and barley rigs, And corn rigs are bonnie: I'll ne'er forget that happy night Amang the rigs wi' Annie. The Ploughman. Then up wi' my ploughman lad, Commend me to the ploughman. I hae been east, I hae been west, And siller buckles glancin'; Commend me to the barn-yard, I never gat my coggie fou, Song composed in August. (310) TUNE- I had a horse, 1 had nae mair. Now westling winds and slaught'ring guns Bring autumn's pleasant weather; The moorcock springs, on whirring wings, Amang the blooming heather : Now waving grain, wide o'er the plain, Delights the weary farmer; [night And the moon shines bright, when I rove at To muse upon my charmer. The partridge loves the fruitful fells; ; The plover loves the mountains The woodcock haunts the lonely dells; The soaring hern the fountains; Thro' lofty groves the cushat roves, The path of man to shun it ; The hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush, The spreading thorn the linnet. Thus ev'ry kind their pleasure find, The savage and the tender; Some social join, and leagues combine: Some solitary wander : Avaunt, away! the cruel sway, Tyrannic man's dominion; The sportsman's joy, the murd'ring cry, The flutt'ring gory pinion. But Peggy, dear, the ev'ning's clear, Thick flies the skimming swallow; All fading-green and yellow; We'll gently walk, and sweetly talk, Till the silent moon shine clearly; I'll grasp thy waist, and, fondly prest, Swear how I love thee dearly: Not vernal show'rs to budding flow'rs, Not autumn to the farmer. So dear can be as thou to me, My fair, my lovely charmer! My Nannie's charming, sweet, and young; That wad beguile my Nannie, O. A country lad is my degree, And few there be that ken me, 0; And I maun guide it cannie, O; His sheep and kye thrive bonnie, 0; But I'm as blythe that hauds his pleugh, And has nae care but Namie, O. Come weel, come woe, I care nae by, But live, and love my Nannie, O. Green Grom the Rashes. (313) TUNE-Green grow the Rashes. CHORUS. Green grow the rashes, O! Green grow the rashes, O! The sweetest hours that e'er I spend Are spent amang the lasses, O. There's nought but care on ev'ry han', In every hour that passes, O: What signifies the life o' man, An 'twere na for the lasses, O. The warlly race may riches chase, And riches still may fly them, 0 ; And tho' at last they catch them fast, Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O, But gie me a canny hour at e’en, My arms about my dearie, O; He dearly lov'd the lasses, O. The Cure for all Care. TUNE-Prepare, my dear Brethren, to the Tavern let's fly. No churchman am I for to rail and to write, No statesman nor soldier to plot or to fight, No sly man of business contriving a suareFor a big-bellied bottle's the whole of my care. The peer I don't envy, I give him his bow; And a bottle like this, are my glory and care. There centum per centum, the cit with his purse; But see you The Crown, how it waves in the air! There a big-bellied bottle still eases my care. The wife of my bosom, alas! she did die; ; |