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Her mill into some hole had fa'n,
Whatrecks, quoth she, let it be ga’en,
For I maun ha'e a young goodman,

Shall furnish me with (nishing,


Her eldest dochter said right bauld,
Fy, mother, mind that now ye're auld,
And if ye with a younker wald, ,

He'll waste away your fnishing.
The youngest dochter ga'e a fhout,
O mother dear! you're teeths a' out,
Besides half blind, you ha'e the gout,

Your mill can ha’d nae (nishing.
Ye lied, ye limmers, cries all mump,
For I ha'e baith a tooth and stump,
And will nae langer live in dump,

By wanting o' my snifhing.
Thole ye, says Peg, that pauky slut,
Mother, if ye can crack a nut,
Then we will a' consent to it,

That ye shall have a fnishing.
The auld wife did agree to that,
And they a pistol bullet gat,
She pow'rfully began to crack,

To win herself a fnishing.
Braw sport it was to see her chow't,
And 'tween her gums sae squeeze and row't,
While frae her jaws the slaver flow't,

And ay she curs'd poor stumpy.
At last she ga’e a desperate fqueeze,
Which brake the auld tooth by the neeze,
And fyne poor stumpy was at ease,

But she tint hopes o’ snishing.
She of the task began to tire,
And frae her dochters did retire,

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Syne lean’d her down ayont the fire,

And died for lack of fnishing.

Ye auld wives notice well this truth,
As soon as ye're past mark of mouth,
Ne'er do what's only fit for youth,
And leave aff thoughts of fnishing;

Else, like this wife beyont the fire,
Your bairns against you will confpire,
Nor will ye get, unless ye hire,
A young man with your fnishing.




A Favourite New Song.


N the morn as I walk'd thro' the mead,
And trode on the carpet


green, I view'd the sweet flocks as they feed;

What equals the beautiful scene ! Thro' the groves as they pass’d with delight,

In view of yon ever green pine ;
What sensation I feel at the fight

Of a prospect fo rural and fine.
Hark the birds, as they perch in the bough,

With melody pleasing the ear :
See the hind from afar with his plough,

Denoting the time of the year.
As I stray'd thro' the neighbouring vale,

Encompass’d by mountains so high,
O what charms do I find in the day,

By the stream that runs bubbling by.

At the foot of yon fycamore tree

Sits the shepherd a tuning his reed ; While his lambs frolic round him with glee,

His sheep along side of him feed.

O’er yon beautiful lawn do I see

The hare with timidity fly:
How delightful's the music to me

Of the echo of dogs in full cry!
But what harmony's that which I hear,

'Tis the bells from yon neighbouring vill :
O how pleasing's the found to my ear,

By the fide of this murmuring rill.
There's no pleasure to me so sweet

As that which the country gives :
I am happy, thank God, at my feat,

Where rural felicity lives.

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Addressed to every Young Lady.
N rip’ning age, the female breast

To love's foft influence prone ;
Forfakes its usual wonted rest,

And all its joys are flown ;
Ah! hapless, more than hapless state !

When fome unworthy youth
Stern Providence decrees to mate

With innocence and truth.

Reverfe the scene, what raptures reign,

Where worth with beauty join'd,
Complete a union void of pain;

Bleft union of the mind!
Extatic bliss! (beyond the height

Of fortune's fordid sway)
Then crowns each peaceful blissful night,

And hails each coming day.
Such, Myra, such the youth shall prove, ,

Whom fate ordains with thee,

To taste the sweets of mutual love,

From care, from discord free:
Grown old in love, as well as age,

You'll gently meet decay,
And, envy'd, grace the future page

Of some immortal lay.

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The Death of Auld Robin Gray, and Jamie's Return.
A Favourite Scotch Ballad. Sung by Mrs. Kennedy at

Vauxhall Gardens.

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HE summer it was smiling, all nature round was gay,

For he was sick at heart, and had nae friend beside,
But only me poor Jenny, who newly was his bride.
Ah! Jenny, I shall die, he cry'd, as sure as I had birth;
Then see my poor old bones, I pray, laid into the earth:
And be a widow for my fake a twelvemonth and a day,
And I will leave whate'er belongs to Auld Robin Gray.

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I laid poor Robin in the earth as decent as I cou'd,

And shed a tear upon his grave, for he was very good;
I took my rock into my hand, and in my cot I figh’d,
Oh wae is me, what shall I do, fince


Auld Robin
Search ev'ry part throughout the land, there's none like

me forlorn,
I'm ready e’en to ban the day that ever I was born ;
For Jamie, all I lov'd on earth, ah! he is gone away,
My father's dead, my mother's dead, and eke Auld Ro-

bin Gray.
I rose up with the morning sun, and spun till setting day,
And one whole year of widowhood I mourn'd for Robin

Gray :
I did the duty of a wife, both kind and constant too;
Let every one example take, and Jenny's plan pursue.


I thought that Jamie he was dead, or he was to me loft, And all

my fond and youthful love entirely was croft: I try'd to fing, I try'd to laugh, and pass the time away, For I had ne'er a friend alive since dy'd Auld Robin Gray.

At length the merry bells rung round, I cou'dna guess the cause ;

(applause, But Rodney was the man, they said, who gain's so much I doubted if the tale was true, till Jamie came to me, And shew'd a purse of golden ore, and said It is for thee, Auld Robin Gray I find is dead, and still thy heart is true, Then take me, Jenny, to thy arms, and I will be fo too, Mess John shall join us at the kirk, and we'll be blithe and

gay, I blush'd, consented, and reply'd Adieu to Robin Gray.




OUNG Jockey blithe at early dawn,

Starts fresh and fair as roses blawn;
Then o'er the dewy lawn he roves,
And greets the lafs he dearly loves.
Sweet smells the birk, green grows the grass,

Dear Jug, will naething move thee,
Be kind, be true, my bonny lass,

I only live to love thee.

To merit I no claim can make,
But that I'd die for your dear fake ;
From every other bus'ness free,
My life and love shall follow thee.

Sweet smells the birk, &c.

Time's on the wing, and will not stay,
In shining sun let's make our hay.
While love does at his altar stand,
Give me your heart, O give your hand.

Sweet smells the birk, &c.

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