( 3 )
Sae dear to this boſom, ſae artleſs and winning,
Is charming young Jeffy the flower o’ Dumblain,
Is charming, &c.
How loſt were my days till I met wi’ my Jeffy,
The ſports o’ the city ſeem‘d fooliſh and vain;
I ne’er ſaw a nymph I could ca’ my dear laſſie,
Till charm'd wi‘ young Jeffy the flower o‘Dumblain.
Tho‘ mine were the ſtation o‘ loftieſt grandeur,
Amidſt its profuſion I'd languiſh in pain,
And reckon it as naething the height o' its ſplendor,
If wanting ſweet Jeffy the flower o' Dumblain;
If wanting, &c.
BARBARA BELL.
Oh! hang this love, it is a serious thing.
It begins so many a way;
Far better a man in a halter should swing.
As look to a lass now-a-day.
Were there ever a poor fellow so fix’d as I,
Come set you down, the truth I will tell,
Far better I’d hmig on yon coddling tree.
As the very first time I saw Barbara Bell.
