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With pride and high living they squander't away,
Although they have flourish'd for many a day.

If statesmen decay, how can farmers stand?
For many a one's broke here with a full hand,
While others mansworn their knavery to hide,
Şuch villains amongst us I cannot abide.

So now to conclude, and my song for to end,
And wishing my brethren their lives to amend;
With a downfal to Pride and black Popery,
'Till that happy time, no good days we shall fee.
Derry down, down hey derry down.

Text divider from 'The Humble Beggar', a chapbook printed in Glasgow in 1802

MY APRON DEARY.

'Twas early in the early in the morning of May,
A soldier and a lassie was walking astray,
Close down in yon meadow, yon meadow brow,
I heard the lass cry, My apron now:

Chor. My apron, deary, my apron now,
My belly bears up my apron now:
But I, being a young thing, was easy to woo,
Which makes me cry out, My apron now.

O had I ta'en counsel of father or mother,
Or had I advised with sister or brother;
But I, being a young thing, and easy to woo,
It makes me cry out, My apron now. My, &c,

Your apron, deary, I must confess,
Seems something the shorter, tho' naithing the less:
Then had your tongue deary, & I will prove true,
And nae mair cry out your apron now.

Chor. Your apron deary, Your apron now,
Your belly bears up your apron now,
Then ha'd your tongue, deary, & I will prove true
And nae mair cry out your apron now.