5 The price was a'kiss o’ my mou’, and I paid him the debt yestreen.
Dear lassie, he cries wi’ a jeer; ne’er heed what the auld anes will say, Though, we’ve little to brag o'—ne'er fear, what’s gowd to a heart that is wae ? Our Laird has baith honours and wealth, yet see how he's dwining wi’ care ; Now we, though we've naething but healt are canty and leif evemair.
He ends wi’a kiss and a smile,- waes me ! can I tak it amiss ? My laddie’s unpracfis’d in guile, he’s f'ee ay to aut and to kiss. Ye lasses wha lo'e to lament your wnoers wi’ fause scorn and-strife. Play your pranks—I hae glen my consent, and this night I am Jamie’s for life.
The Maniac's Song.
They bid me sleep, they bid my pray, They fay my brain is warped and wruug— I cannot sleep on Highland brae, I cannot pray in Highland tongue. But were I now where Allan glides, Or hear my native Devon's tides, So fweetly would I reft ,ans pray, That Heaven would dole my wintry day I
