Shall join to make a garland, meet
For my dear Strephon's head;
The primrose pale, and vi'let blue,
I'll add unto the store;

Ah gramachree! and we shall be
As happy as before.

Full many a scene of mourning
Thy Molly late has known;
Because my heart its fondness kept,
For thee, my love, alone;
My parents hid me from thy fight,
And spurn'd thee from their door;
Ah gramachree! but now we'll be
As happy as before.

I laid me down upon my bed,
Bewailing my fad fate;
And, like a faithful turtle dove,
I mourn'd my absent mate:
And, as the ling'ring moments pass'd,
I told them o'er and o'er ;

Ah gramachree! but now I'll be,
As happy as before.

You faid you lov'd your Molly dear,
Thy vows I did believe;

For well I knew my Strephon's heart
Would ne'er my faith deceive :
Thy love was all I wish'd on earth,
For heav'n could give no more;
Ah gramachree! and now we'll be
As happy as before.

Our flocks together now we'll tend,
Upon the yellow hill;

And

gaze, enraptur'd, on the sweets Which yon fair profpects fill; While heav'n upon our mutual love Shall all its bleffings pour;

Ah Gramachree! we then fhall be
As happy as before.

CCXCIX.

SONG

TRUST NOT MAN,

Allegretto.

RUST not man, for he'll deceive you,
Treach'ry is his fole intent;

First he'll court you, then he'll leave you,
Poor deluded! to lament.

Listen to a kind adviser ;

Men purfue but to perplex: Would you happy be, grow wifer, And avoid the faithlefs fex.

Form'd by nature to undo us
They escape our utmost head,
Ah! how humble while they woo us!
But how vain if they fucceed!

So the bird, whene'er deluded
By the artful fowler's fnare,

Mourns out life, in cage fecluded,

Fair ones, while you're young, beware!

W

HILE milking my cow in a fine colour'd paile, Young Damon came to me and told a sweet tale! Such flattering words he fo artfully us'd,

That reafon inform'd me that truth was abus'd.
Such flattering words he fo artfully us'd,

That reafon inform'd me that truth was abus'd.

Yet praises are pleafing to most of the fair,

And I was attentive to hear him declare,

The milk in my pail, and the ev'ning's rich fkies,

Were emblems but faint of my neck, cheeks, and eyes.

Such aftonishing fimiles made me amaz'd,
But wonder abfconded when on him I gaz'd.

The beauties he spoke of in him you will find,
And those are but trifles, compar'd to his mind.
With foothing intreaties he won my fond heart;
Three Sundays expir'd, and he vow'd ne'er to part :
We tafte every pleasure that nature affords,

And live quite as happy as Kings, Dukes, or Lords.

SONG

CCCI.

MY SWEET PRETTY MOG.

Sung in the Regifter Office.

MY
Y fweet pretty Mog, you're as foft as a bog,
And as wild as a kitten, as wild as a kitten;
Thofe eyes in your face, (O pity my cafe!)

Poor Paddy have fmitten, poor Paddy have fmitten.

Far fofter than filk, and as fair as new milk,

Your lily white hand is, your lily white hand is ;
Your fhape's like a pail, from your head to your tail,
You're ftraight as a wand is, you're straight as a wand is.

Your lips red as cherries, and your curling hair, is
As black as the devil, as black as the devil;
Your breath is as fweet too as any potatoe,
Or orange from Seville, or orange from Seville.

When drefs'd in your boddice, you trip like a goddess,
So nimble, fo frifky, fo nimble, so frisky;

A kifs on your cheek ('tis so soft and fo fleek)

I

Would warm me like whisky, would warm me like whisky.

grunt, and I pine, and I fob like a swine,

because you're fo cruel, because you're so cruel; No reft I can take, and, afleep or awake,

I dream of my jewel, I dream of my jewel.

Your hate, then, give over, nor Paddy your lover

So cruelly handle, fo cruelly handle;

Or Paddy muft die, like a pig in a fty,
Or fnuff of a candle, or fnuff of a candle.

SONG CCCII.

WHEN SUMMER COMES, &c.

HEN fummer comes, the fwains on Tweed,

W Sing their successful loves;

Around the ewes and lambkins feed,
And mufic fills the groves:

But my lov'd fong is then the broom,
So fair on Coudenknows.

For, fure, fo foft, so sweet a bloom,
Elfewhere there never grows.

O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom,
The broom on Coudenknows,
For, fure, fo foft, fo fweet a bloom,
Elsewhere there never grows.

There Colin tun'd his oaten reed,
And won my yielding heart;
No fhepherd e'er that dwelt on Tweed,
Could play with half fuch art.
He fang of Tay, of Forth, and Clyde,
The hills and dales all round,

Of Leader's haughs and Leader's fide,
O how I blefs'd the found!

O the broom, &c.

gay,

Not Tiviot's braes, fo green and
May with this broom compare;
Not Yarrow's banks in flow'ry May,
Nor the bush aboon Traquair:
More pleasing far are Coudenknows,
My peaceful happy home,
Where I was wont to milk my ewes
At eve among the broom.

O the broom, &c.

Tune,-In Infancy, &c.

Written at the request of a Lady.

IF you can tell, ye mufes, fay,

Where dwells the lovely maid
That bloffom'd in the pride of May
Near yonder myrtle shade?
Direct me where the fair to find,
Ye bright celeftial powers!
Oh bring me where, with peace refign'd,
She blooms amid the flowers.

In vain I search the groves around,
And every fylvan scene;

Among the woods she is not found,
Nor wanders o'er the green.
O come then, fair one, to my breast,
And every pain remove;
Within thefe arms be ever bleft
With conftancy and love.

W

HEN firft the eaft begins to dawn,
And nature's beauties rise,

The lark refumes her mattins sweet,
And feeks the yielding skies:
The rofy light that glads her mufe,
Dear to her breast must be ;
But not fo dear, my fhepherd knows,
As Damon is to me.

In yonder tree two turtles bill,

Whofe fweet alternate notes,

Ꮓ