Maggy Lauder/The Bush Aboon Traquair

THE BUSH A BOON TRAQUAIR.

Hear me, ye nymphs, and ev‘ry swain,
I‘ll tell how Peggy grieves me;
Though thus I languish and complain,
Alas! she ne'er believes me.
My vows and sighs, like silent air,
Unheeded never move her.
At the bonny bush aboon Traquair,
‘Twas there i first did love her.

That day she smil’d and made me glad,
No maid seem'd ever kinder;
I thought myself the luckiest lad,
So sweetly there to find her.
I try'd to soothe my amrous flame,
In words that l thought tender;
If more there pass'd l‘m not to blame,
I maent not to offend her.

Yet now she scornful flies the plain.
The fields we then frequented;
If e'er we meet she shews disdain,
⁠She looks as ne'er acquainted.
The bonny hush bloom'd fair in May
⁠Its sweets I'll ay remember;
Rut now her frowns make it decay.
⁠It fades as in December.

Ye rural bow'rs, who, hear my strains
⁠Why thus should Preggy grieve me;
Oh! make her partner in my pains,
⁠Then let her smiles relieve me,
If not, my love will turn despair,
⁠My passione no more tender;
I'll leave the bush aboon Traquair,
⁠To lonely wilds I'll wander.