The Trogger.
Wha will buy my troggin, fine election ware, Broken trade o' Broughton, a' in high repair? Chorus-Buy braw troggin frae the banks o' Dee; Whawants trogginlet him come to me. There's a noble Earl's fame and high renown, For an auldsang-it's thought the gudes were stown- Buy braw troggin, &c. Here's the worth o' Broughton
Ah, Woe Is Me, My Mother Dear
Ah, woe is me, my mother dear! A man of strife ye've born me: For saircontention I maunbear; They hate, revile, and scorn me. I ne'er could lend on billorband, That five per cent. might blest me; And borrowing, on the titherhand, The deila anewadtrust me. Yet I, a coin-denied wight, By Fortune quite discarded;
I Dream’d I Lay
I dream'd I lay where flowers were springing Gaily in the sunny beam; List'ning to the wild birds singing, Bya falling crystal stream: Straight the sky grew black and daring; Thro' the woods the whirlwinds rave; Tress with aged arms were warring, O'er the swelling drumliewave. Such was my life's deceitful morning, Such the pleasures