'That face, alas! no more is fair;
These lips, no longer red;
Dark are mine eyes, now closed in death;
And every charm is fled!
'The hungry worm, my sister is!
This winding sheet I wear!
And cold and weary lasts our night,
Till that at Last Morn appear!
The cock has warned me hence! A long and last Adieu!
Come, see, false man! how low she lies,
That died for love of you!'
Now, birds did sing, and Morning smile
And shew her glistening head;
Pale WILLIAM shook in ev'ry limb;
Then, raving, left his bed.
He hied him to the fatal place,
Where MARGARET's body lay;
And stretched him on the green grass turf,
That wrapped her breathless clay.
And thrice he called on MARGARET'S name!
And thrice he wept full sore!
Then laid his cheek to the cold earth;
And word spake never more.
GIVE me a Lass with a lump of land;
And we, for life, shall gang together!
Foolish, or wise, I'll ne'er demand!
Or black, or white, it makes not whether!
I'm off with Wit! and Beauty will fade!
And Blood alone is not worth a shilling! But she that's rich, her market 's made; For ev'ry charm about her is killing!
Give me a Lass with a lump of land;
And, in my bosom, I'll hug my treasure!
If I had once her gold in my hand;
Should love turn dead, it will find pleasure!
Laugh on who likes; but there's my hand!
I hate, with poortith, though bonny, to meddle!
Unless they bring cash, or a lump of land;
They'se never get me to dance to their fiddle!
There's meikle good love in bands and bags!
And silver and gold 's a sweet complexion!
But Beauty, and Wit, and Virtue, in rags,
Have lost the art of gaining affection!
LOVE tips his arrows with woods and parks,
And castles, and riggs, and moors, and meadows;
And nothing can catch our modern Sparks
But well-tochered Lasses, or jointured Widows!
BONNY CHRISTY.
'How sweetly smells the simmer green!
Sweet taste the peach and cherry!
Painting and Order please our een;
And Claret makes us merry!
But finest colours, fruits, and flowers,
And wine, though I be thirsty,
Lose a' their charms and weaker powers
Compared with those of CHRISTY!
'When wand'ring o'er the flow'ry Park,
No nat'ral beauty wanting;
How lightsome is 't to hear the lark,
And birds in consort chanting!
But if my CHRISTY tunes her voice,
I'm rapt in admiration!
My thoughts with ecstasies rejoice,
And drap the hale creation!
'Whene'er she smiles a kindly glance,
I take the happy omen;
And aften mint to make advance,
Hoping she'll prove a woman :
But, dubious of my ain desert,
My sentiments I smother:
With secret sighs I vex my heart,
For fear she love another.'
|