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Nor then regret those scenes so gay,
Where thou wert fairest of the fair, &c.
THE BUSH ABOON TRAQUIRE.
Hear me ye nymphs and every swain,
I’ll tell how Peggy grieves me,
Though thus I languish, thus complain;
Alas, she ne‘er believes me.
My vows and sighs like silent air,
Unheeded never move her;
At the bonny bush aboon Traquire,
‘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 am‘rous flame,
In words that I thought tender,
I more than pass’d, I’m not to blame,
I meant not to offend her.
Yet now she scornful flies the plain
And fields we then frequented,
Where’er we meet she shews disdain,
She looks as not acquainted.
The bonny bush bloom’d fair in May,
Its sweets I’ll ay remember,
