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They laid him out upon the floor
I hae been blythe wi' comrades dear; To work him farther woe;
I hae been merry drinkin'; And still, as signs of life appear'd,
I hae been joyfu' gath'rin' gear; They toss'd him to and fro.
I hae been happy thinkin';
But a' the pleasures e'er I saw, They wasted o'er a scorching flame
Tho' three times doubl'd fairly, The marrow of his bones;
That happy night was worth them a', But a miller us'd him worst of all,
Amang the rigs o' barley.
Corn rigs, and barley rigs,
And corn rigs are bonnie: Their joy did more abound.
I'll ne'er forget that happy night
Amang the rigs wi' Annie.
Of noble enterprise;
TUNE-Up wi the Ploughman. 'Twill heighten all his joy:
The ploughman he's a bonnie lad, 'Twill make the widow's heart to sing,
His mind is ever true, jo; Tho' the tear were in her eye.
His garters knit below his knee,
His bonner it is blue, jo. Then let us toast John Barleycorn.
Then up wi' my ploughman lad, Each man a glass in hand;
And hey my merry plouglıman! And may his great posterity
Of a' the trades that I do ken, Ne'er fail in old Scotland!
Commend me to the ploughman. My ploughman he comes hame at e'en,
He's aften wat and weary ;
Cast off the wat, put on the dry,
I will wash my ploughman's hose,
And I will dress his o'erlay; It was upon a Lammas night,
I will mak my ploughman's bed,
And cheer him late and early.
I hae been east, I hae been west,
I hae been at Saint Johnston;
The bonniest sight that e'er I saw
Was the ploughman laddie dancin'. To see me thro' the barley.
Snaw-white stockins on his legs, The sky was blue, the wind was still,
And siller buckles glancin'; The moon was shining clearly ;
A guid blue bonnet on his head I set her down wi' right good will
And oh, but he was handsome! Amang the rigs o' barley;
Commend me to the barn-yard, I ken't her heart was a' my ain;
And at the corn-mou, man; I lov'd her most sincerely;
I never gat my coggie fou,
Till I meet wi' the plouglıman.
song rumpuseù in August. (310) My blessings on that happy place,
TUNE- I had a horse, 1 had nae mair. Amang the rigs o' barley! But by the moon and stars so bright, Now westling winds and slaught'ring guns That shone that hour so clearly !
Bring autumn's pleasant weather; She aye shall bless that happy night, | The moorcock springs, on whirring wings, Amang the rigs o' barley.
Amang the blooming heather :
MY NANNIE, O. Now waving grain, wide o'er the plain, For there, by a lanely and sequester'd stream,
Delights the weary farmer; (night | Resides a sweet lassie, my thought and my And the moon shines bright, when I rove at dream.
(stream, To muse upon my charmer.
For there, by a lanely and sequester'd The partridge loves the fruitful fells;
Resides a sweet lassie, my thought and The plover loves the mountains ;
my dream. The woodcock haunts the lonely dells ;
Amang thae wild mountains shall still be my The soaring hern the fountains ;
(strath: Thro' lofty groves the cushat roves,
'Ilk stream foaming down its ain green, narrow The path of man to shun it;
For there wi' my lassie, the day lang I rove, The hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush,
While o'er us unheeded flee the swift hours o The spreading thorn the linnet.
srove, Thus ev'ry kind their pleasure find,
For there, wi' my lassie, the day lang I The savage and the tender;
While o'er us unheeded flee the swift hours Some social join, and leagues combine :
o love. Some solitary wander : Avaunt, away! the cruel sway,
She is not the fairest, altho' she is fair; Tyrannic man's dominion ;
O’nice education but sma, is her share; The sportsman's joy, the murd'ring cry,
Her parentage humble as humble can be; The flutt'ring gory pinion.
But I loe the dear lassie because she loes me.
Her parentage humble as humble can be: But Peggy, dear, the ev'ning's clear,
But I loe the dear lassie because she loes Thick flies the skimming swallow;
me. The sky is blue, the fields in view, All fading-green and yellow;
To beauty what man but maun yield him a Come, let us stray our gladsome way,
[sighs! And view the charms of nature;
In her armour of glances, and blushes, and The rustling corn, the fruited thorn,
And when wit and refinement hae polish'd And every happy creature.
They dazzle our een, as they flee to our hearts. We'll gently walk, and sweetly talk,
And when wit and refinement hae polish'd Till the silent moon shine clearly;
[hearts. I'll grasp thy waist, and, fondly prest,
They dazzle our een, as they flee to our Swear how I love thee dearly : Not verval show'rs to budding flow'rs, But kindness, sweet kindness, in the fond Not autumn to the farmer.
sparkling e'e, So dear can be as thou to me,
Has lustre outshining the diamond to me; My fair, my lovely charmer!
And the heart beating love as I'm clasp'd in her arms,
[charms! Oh, these, are my lassie's all-conquering
And the heart beating love as I'm claspil Von Wilù Hossy Mlonntains, (311)
in her arms, TUNE-Yon wild mossy Mountains. Oh, these are my lassie's all-conquering
charms! ON wild mossy mountains sae lofty and wide,
rClyde, That nurse in their bosom the youth othe Where the grouse lead their coveys thro' the heather to feed,
htly Vannir, O. (312) And the shepherd tents his flock as he pipes
TUNE-My Nannie, 0. on his reed. Where the grouse lead their coveys thro' BEHIND yon hills where Lugar flows, the heather to feed,
| 'Mang moors and mosses many, 0, And the shepherd tents his flock as he The wintry sun the day has clos'd, pipes on his reed.
And I'll awa to Nannie, 0. Not Gowrie's rich vallies, nor Forth's sunny The westlin wind blaws loud and shrill; shores,
The night's baith mirk and rainy, O; To me hae the charms o' yon wild, mossy But I'll get my plaid, and out I'll steal, moors;
1 And owre the hills to Nannie, 0.
My Nannie's charming, sweet, and young; 1 The Cure for all Care.
Nae artfu' wiles to win ye, O: May ill befa' the flattering tongue
TUNE-Prepare, my dear Brethren, to the That wad beguile my Nannie, 0.
Tavern let's fly. Her face is fair, her heart is true,
No churchman am I for to rail and to write, As spotless as she's bonnie, 0 :
No statesman nor soldier to plot or to fight, The op'ning gowan, wet wi dew,
No sly man of business contriving a snareNae purer is than Nannie, 0.
For a big-bellied bottle's the whole of my A country lad is my degree,
care. And few there be that ken me, 0; The peer I don't envy, I give him his bow; But what care I how few they be?
I scorn not the peasant, tho' ever so low; I'm welcome aye to Nannie, O.
But a club of good fellows, like those that
are here, My riches a’s my penny-fee, And I maun guide it cannie, 0;
And a bottle like this, are my glory and care. But warl's gear ne'er troubles me,
Here passes the squire on his brother-his My thoughts are a' my Nannie, 0.
horse ; Our auld guidman delights to view
There centum per centum, the cit with his
purse; His sheep and kye thrive bonnie, 0;
But see you The Crown, how it waves in the But I'm as blythe that hauds his pleugh, And has nae care but Nannie, 0.
There a big-bellied bottle still eases my care. Come weel, come woe, I care nae by,
The wife of my bosom, alas ! she did die; PI tak what Heav'n will sen' me, 0;
For sweet consolation to church I did fly; Nae ither care in life have I,
I found that old Solomon proved it fair, But live, and love my Nannie, 0.
That a big-bellied bottle's a cure for all care.
A letter inform’d me that all was to wreck : Green Grom the Kashes, (313)
But the pursy old landlord just waddled up TUNE--Green grow the Rashes.
With a glorious bottle that ended my cares. CHORUS.
“Life's cares they are comforts" (314)-2 Green grow the rashes, O!
Inaxim laid down
By the bard, what d'ye call him, that wore The sweetest hours that e'er I spend
the black gown;
[hair; Are spent amang the lasses, 0.
And, faith, I agree with th' old prig to a There's nought but care on ev'ry han”,
For a big-bellied bottle's a heav'n of care. In every hour that passes, O: What signifies the life o' man,
ADDED IN A MASON LODGE. An 'twere na for the lasses, O.
Then fill up a bumper and make it o'erflow, The warlly race may riches chase,
And honours masonic prepare for to throw; And riches still may Ay them, 0; May every true brother of the compass and And tho' at last they catch them fast,
[care! Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O, Have a big-bellied bottle when harass'd with But gie me a canny hour at e'en,
My arms about my dearie, 0; And warl’ly cares, and warl’ly men,
On Cessnork Banks. May a' yae tapsalteerie, 0.
TUNE-If he be a Butcher neat and trim. For you sae douce, ye sneer at this, Ye're nought but senseless asses, O:
On Cessnock banks there lives a lass, The wisest man the warl' e'er saw,
Could I describe her shape and mien; He dearly lov'd the lasses, 0.
The graces of her weel-faur'd face, Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears
And the glancin' of her sparklin' een! Her noblest work she classes, 0 : She's fresher than the morning dawn Her 'prentice han she tried on man,
When rising Phoebus first is seen, And then she made the lasses, O. When dew-drops twinkle o'er the lawn;
1 And she's twa glancin' sparklin' een.