Ere the church was a ruin that nods on the hill, Could I trace back the time, to far distant date, For my child I've preserved it, unblemished with shame, And it still from a spot shall be free. LEAVE OFF YOUR FOOLISH PRATING. Leave off your foolish prating Talk no more of Whig and Tory, But drink your glass, round let it pass, The bottle stands before you, Fill up to the top, Let the night with mirth be crown'd; Drink about-see it out, Love and friendship still go round. If claret be a blessing, This night devote to pleasure; Let worldly cares, and state affairs, Be thought on at most leisure. If any is so zealous, To be a party minion, Let him drink like me, we'll soon agree, And be of good opinion. Fill your glass, name your lass, See her health go swiftly round; Drink about-see it out, Let the night with mirth be crown'd. HER BLUE ROLLIN EE'. My lassie is lovely as May day adorning tree, Twas yonder I spent the first days o' my childhood, And first felt the power of love's rollin' ee. Tho' soon from my bame and my lassie I wander'd, Tho' lang I've been tossing on fortune's rough sea, Aye dear was the valley where Ettrick meander'd; Aye dear was the blink o' her blue rollin' ee. O for the evening, and O for the hour, When down by yon green wood she promis'd to be; When quick as the summer dew dries on the flower, OH! TURN THOSE DEAR, DEAR EYES AWAY. Oh! turn those dear, dear eyes away, GOOD NIGHT. Give me, my love, before we part, I'll think on thee and this Good night. LOW IN A VALE. Low in a vale where a streamlet ran, A pilgrim measur'd the wit of man, Oh! a woman has killing eyes, he cried, With a thousand, thousand charms beside, Mark every glance that confirms her sway, CANST THOU LOVE MARY? Canst thou love me, Mary? Blest I'd be! Nae greater gift can Heaven bestow, Thou art so dear to me, Canst thou love me, Mary, &c. Thou hast stown my heart, O Mary dear, With thy bewitching e'e, And tho' a lowly cottage maid, Thou'rt a' the world to me. Canst thou love me, &c. When first the muin peeps o'er the hill, This night O steal to me, And by two dazzling stars, thy e'en, 'TIS THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER. "Tis the last rose of summer Left blooming alone; All her lonely companions I'll not leave thee, thou lone one, Go, sleep thou with them; Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed, Lie scented and dead. So soon may I follow When friendships decay, The gems drop away; And fond ones have flown, Oh! who could inhabit This bleak world alone! |