In ilka dale, green, fhaw, and park,
Will nourish health, and glad ye'r mind.

Soon as the clear goodman of day,

Bends up his morning draught of dew, We'll gae to fome burn-fide and play, And gather flowers to bufk ye'r brow: We'll pou the daifies on the green,

The lucken gowans frae the bog; Between hands now and then we'll lean, And fport upo' the velvet fog.

There's up into a pleasant glen,

A wee piece frae my father's tow'r, A canny, foft, and flow'ry den,

Where circling birks have form'd a bow'r : Whene'er the fun grows high and warm,

We'll to the cauler fhade remove;

There will I lock thee in mine arm,
And love and kifs, and kifs and love.

SONG 185.

KATY'S ANSWER.

My mither's ay glowran o'er me,. Though fhe did the fame before me; I canna get leave to look to my loove, Or else she'll be like to devour me.

Right fain wad I take ye'r offer,
Sweet Sir, but I'll tine my tocher;

Then Sandy, ye'll fret, and wyte ye'r poor Kate,
Whene'er ye keek in your toom coffer.

For tho' my father has plenty,
Of filler and plenishing dainty,
Yet he's unco fwear to twin wi' his gear,
And fae we had need to be tenty.
Tutor my parents wi' caution,

Be wylie in ilka motion,

Brag weel o' ye'r land, and there's my leal hand, Win them, I'll be at your devotion.

SONG 186.

TULLOCH GORUM.

Compofed by a Clergyman at Aberdeen.

Fidlers, your pins in temper fix,
And rozet weel your fiddle-sticks;
But banih vile Italian tricks

Frae out your quorum,
Nor fortes wi' pianos mix ;
Gie's Tullochgorum.

R. FERGUSSON.

COME, gie's a fang, the Lady cry'd,

And lay your disputes all aside,

What fignifies't for folks to chide

For what's been done before them?

Let Whig and Torry all agree,
Whig and Torry, Whig and Torry,.
Let Whig and Torry all agree,
To drop their whigmegmorum:
Let Whig and Torry all agree,
To fpend this night with mirth and glee,,
And chearfu' fing alang wi' me
The reel of Tullochgorum.,

Tullochgorum's my delight,

It gars us a' in ane upite;

And ony fumph that keeps up fpite,.
In confcience I abhor him.

Blithe and merry we's be a',,
Blithe and merry, blithe and merry,,
Blithe and merry we's be a',
To make a cheerfu' quorum.
Blithe and merry we's be a',.
As lang's we ha'e breath to draw,,
And dance, 'till we be like to faj
The reel of Tullochgorum..

There needs na' be fo great a phrafe
Wi' dringing dull Italian lays,
I wadna gi'e our ain Strathfpeys.
For half a hundred fcore o’em :
They're douff and dowie at the beft,,
Douff and dowie, douff and dowie ;.
They're douff and dowie at the best,,
Wi' a' their variorem :

They're douff and dowie at the beft,
Their allegroes, and a' the reft,
They cannot please a Highland taste,
Compar'd wi' Tullochgorum.

Let warldly minds themfelves opprefs
Wi' fear of want, and double cefs;
And filly fauls themselves diftress
Wi' keeping up decorum :
Shall we fae four and fulky fit,
Sour and foulky, four and fulky;
Shall we fae four and fulky fit,
Like auld Philofophorum?
Shall we fae four and fulky fit,...
Wi' neither fenfe, nor mirth, nor wit?

And canna rife to fhake a fit

At the reel of Tullochgorum.

May choiceft bleffings ftill attend
Each honeft-hearted open friend,
And calm and quiet be his end,

Be a' that's good before him! May peace and plenty be his lot, Peace and plenty, peace and plenty; May peace and plenty be his lot,

And dainties a' great ftore o'em! May peace and plenty be his lot, Unitain'd by any vicious blot; And may he never want a groat That's fond of Tullochgorum.

But for the difcontented fool,
Who wants to be oppreffion's tool,
May envy gnaw his rotten foul,

And blackeft fiends devour him! May dole and forrow be his chance, Dole and forrow, dole and forrow, May dole and forrow be his chance, And honeft fouls abhor him!

May dole and forrow be his chance,
And a' the ills that come frae France,
Whoe'er he be that winna dance
The reel of Tullochgorum.

SONG 187.

THE WAY TO KEEP HIM.

YE fair, poffefs'd of ev'ry charm

To captivate the will;

Whofe fmiles can rage itself disarm,
Whose frowns at once can kill :
Say, will you deign the verse to hear,
Where flatt'ry bears no part?
An honeft verfe that flows fincere,
And candid from the heart.

Great is your pow'r, but greater yet Mankind it might engage,

If, as ye all can make a net,

Ye all could make a cage.