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."
"But rarely seen since Nature's birth, The natives of the sky; Yet still one seraph's left on earth, For Jessie did not die."
"Say, sages, what's the charm on earth Can turn Death's dart aside! It is not purity and worth, Else Jessie had not died."
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
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