SONG 247. DEIL TAK' THE WARS. DEIL tak the wars that hurried Billy from me, Who to love me just had sworn ; They made him captain fure to undo me : Woe's me, he'll ne'er return. A thousand louns abroad will fight him, To stay at home from fword and gun. With muckle kind embraces, Now fighing, then crying, tears dropping fall Preferr'd to war's alarms, By love grown mad, without the man of God, I wash'd and patch'd, to mak' me look provoking; Snares that they told me would catch the men, And on my head a huge commode fat poking, Which made me fhew as tall again; For a new gown too I paid muckle money, My petticoat spotted, Fringe too with thread I knotted, Lace fhoes, and filk hofe, garter full over knee ; But oh the fatal thought, To Billy thefe are nought;. Who rode to town, and riffed with dragoons,. When he, filly loon, might have plunder'd me.. SONG 248.. Sung in the GENTLE SHEPHERD... MY Peggy is a young thing, Juft enter'd in her teens, Fair as the day, and fweet as May, Fair as the day, and always gay. My Peggy is a young thing,. My Peggy fpeaks fae fweetly,. I with nae mair to lay my care, My Peggy fmiles fae kindly, That I look down on a' the town, It makes me blyth and bauld, My Peggy fings fae faftly, By a' the reft, that fhe fings beft :: And in her fangs are tald, With innocence the wale of fenfe, SONG 249. JOCKEY.. My Y laddie is gane far awa' o'er the plain, While in forrow behind I'm forc❜d ́ to remain ; Tho' blue bells and vi'lets the hedges adorn, Tho' trees are in bloffom, and fweet blows the thorn, No pleasure they give me, in vain they look gay; There's nothing can pleafe now, my Jockey's away; Forlorn I fit finging, and this is my ftrain, Hafte, hafte, my dear Jockey to me back again. When lads and their laffes are on the green met, They dance and they fing, they laugh and they chat, Contented and happy, with hearts full of glee, I can't without envy their merriment fee ; Thofe paftimes offend me, my shepherd's not there, No pleasure I relish that Jockey don't share ; It makes me to figh, I from tears scarce refrain ; I wish my dear Jockey return'd back again. But hope shall sustain me, nor will I despair, For love, my dear Jockey, to Jenny will hafte : SONG 250. My lodging it is on the cold ground, And very hard is my fare; Yet ftill I cry, Oh, turn, love! And I pr'ythee, love, turn to me; For thou art the man that I long for; And, alack! what remedy? I'll crown thee with a garland of ftraw then, And merrily we will fing. O turn to me, my dear love! And I pr'ythee, love, turn to me ; But if thou wilt harden thy heart ftill, And I pr'ythee, love, turn to me ; “་ནར་ང SONG 251. FOR ever, O merciless fair! Will that cruel indifference endure? If I love, will you doom me to die? To the wretch which your beauty has made? |