And the meadows all fpangled

With woman and wine, I defy ev'ry care, For life without thefe, is

An old fong made by an ancient old pate,. Of

All the girls within the town,

The black, the fair, the red, the brown,.
That dance and pranee it up and down,
There's none like--

Bra' John O'Bute, was a bonny muckle man,
Frae Scotland he came.

In pennance, for paft folly,.

A pilgrim blyth and jolly,

A foe to

The four and twentieth day of May,

Of all days in the year fir,

When the trees are all bare, not a leaf to be feen,

And the meadows their verdure have loft;

When all nature, difrob'd of her mantle of green,

By the fide of a great kitchen fire,

A feullion complaining was laid;

All in the Downs, the fleet was moor'd,
The ftreamers waving in the wind,
When black-ey'd Sufan came on board,
Oh! where fhall I my true love find:
Tell me

John Anderfon my Jo, John, I wonder what you

mean,

To rife fo foon at morning, to fit fo late at e'en,

The clock had ftruck, I can't tell what,

And morning came on too, as grey as a rat ;
Cocks and hens from their roots did fly,
Grunting pigs too left their flye;

Down in a vale, Cifs with her pail,

Met her true love dapper Harry ;
First they kift, then shook fift,
And look'd like.

A certain prefbyterian pair,

Was wedded 'tother day,

And when the lambs were laid in bed,

The paftor came to pray.

Then fy let us a' to the wedding,

For there will be lilting

There was once it was faid;.

But it's out of my head;

And more fo, yet true is my tale,

That a

A taylor good lord! in the time of vacation, When cabbage was fearce, and when pocket was low,

For the fake of good liquor pretended a paffion
To one that fold ale in a cuckoldly row,
Sing in and out, thro' a clout, whilst he was able;
Prick a loufe, prick a louse, what could he do?
How a loufe made him itch, here a fcratch, there
a ftitch;

And fing cucumber ! cucumber !-
I'm old mad Tom, behold me;

My wits are quite unfram'd;

I'm mad I'm fure, and past all cure,

Nor hope to be reclaimed.

Jupiter wenches and drinks, he rules the roaft in

the sky,

He's a fool if he thinks,

The world is a jumble of nonsense and fun, And life's run away with, 'ere 'tis well begun : Like this motly fong, 'tis the farce of a day, Which aptly concludes with a tal de ral la.

From forrow to mirth, we inconftantly range, No mortal on earth, but is fond of a change : Then while you have Sun, I advise you make hay, And always make sure of your tal de ral la.

Look round in the world, and you'll conftantly find,

As odd fort of couples as ever I bind:

The young weds the old, and the grave takes the gay;

All ftrangers to mirth, and it's tal de ral la.

Ye droll fort of mortals, who laugh at my fong, Laugh on, and be thankful you're not in the wrong: And you that are fad, know the dog has his day, Then take a full fwing at your tal de ral la.

My Betfy is the blitheft maid

That e'er young shepherd woo'd, She has at length my heart betray'd, Alas! do all I could.

For fhape, for air, and manners too,
None can with her compare :
O would fhe but be kind and true,
I'd foon my love declare.

Whene'er I fee her beauteous face,
My heart with joy does burn;
Whene'er she's abfent from the place,
I long for her return.

If the all others would forfake,
And fly to me alone;

What pleasure I with her fhould take,
While they their lofs bemoan!

I'd bless the day that firft I knew
My charming Betfy fair;
And all my life fhould be to fhew
She was my ownly care.

I'd vow to wed next Whitfunday,
And make her bleft for life:
Should the refufe then, maidens fay,
To be young Johnny's wife?

SONG 221.

The HAPPY MARRIAGE.

How bleft has my time been? what joys have

I known,

Since wedlock's foft bondage made Jeffy my own?
So joyful my heart is, fo eafy my chain,

That freedom is taftlefs, and roving a pain.
That freedom, &c.

Thro' walks grown with woodbine, as often we ftray,

Around us our boys and girls frolick and play; How pleafing their sport is! the wanton ones fee, And borrow their looks from my Jeffy and me. And borrow, &c.

To try her sweet temper, oft-times I am feen, And revels all day with the nymphs on the green; Tho' painful my abfence, my doubts she beguiles And meets me at night with complacence and fmiles.

And meet, &c.

What tho' on her cheeks the rofe lofes its hue, Her wit and good humour blooms all the year thro': Time fill, as he flies, adds increase to her truth, And gives to her mind what he fteals from her youth.

And gives, &c.