My honor'd Colonel, deep I feel Your interest in the Poet's weal; Ah! now sma'heart haeI to speel The steep Parnassus, Surrounded thus by bolus pill, And potion glasses. O what a canty world were it, Would pain and care and sickness spare it; And Fortune favour worthand merit As they deserve; And aye rowtho'roast-beef [...]
Thine be the volumes, Jessy fair, And with them take the Poet's prayer, That Fate may, in her fairest page, With ev'ry kindliest, best presage Of future bliss, enroll thy name: With native worthand spotless fame, And wakeful caution, still aware Of ill-but chief, Man's felon snare; All blameless joys on earth we find, And [...]
"Talk not to me of savages, From Afric's burning sun; Nosavage e'ercould rend my heart, As Jessie, thou hast done: ButJessie's lovely hand in mine, A mutual faith to plight, Not even to view the heavenly choir, Would be so blest a sight."
O wert thou in the cauldblast, On yonder lea, on yonder lea, My plaidie to the angry airt, I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee; Or did Misfortune's bitter storms Around thee blaw, around thee blaw, Thy bieldshould be my bosom, To share it a', to share it a'. Or were I in the wildest waste, [...]
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 [...]
Fill me with the rosy wine, Call a toast, a toast divine: Giveth me Poet's darling flame, Lovely Jessie be her name; Then thou mayest freely boast, Thou hast given a peerless toast.
Chorus-Fairest maid on Devon banks, Crystal Devon, winding Devon, Wilt thou lay that frown aside, And smile as thou wert wont to do? Full well thou know'st I love thee dear, Couldst thou to malice lend anear! O did not Love exclaim: "Forbear, Nor use a faithful lover so." Fairest maid, &c. Then come, thou [...]
Chorus-O lay thy loof in mine, lass, In mine, lass, in mine, lass; And swear on thy white hand, lass, That thou wilt be my ain. A slave to Love's unbounded sway, He afthas wrought me meiklewae; But now he is my deadly fae, Unless thou be my ain. O lay thy loof, &c. There's [...]