Heaste, Jenny! put the bairns to bed,
And mind they say their pray'rs;
Sweet innocents! their heads yence
They sleep away their cares!
But gi' them furst a butter-shag,
When young, they munnet want,
Nor ever sal a bairn o' mine,
While I've a bite to grant.
I mind when tou was fresh and fair,
And fattest o' thy kin;
But yage comes on, dui what we can ;
We munnet think it hard:
A week at Gilsland tou salt try,
Neist summer, if we're spar'd.
Now, seated at my awn fire-nuik,
Content as onie king,
For hawf an hour afwore we sleep,
Bess, quit thy wark and sing:
Try that about the beggar lass,
'Twill please thy mudder best,
For she, tou kens, can always feel
fwok when distrest:
Nay, what its owre! tou cannot sing,
But weel I guess the cause;
Young Wulliam sud ha'e come to neet,
Consider, lass, it snaws!
Another neet 'll suin be here,
Sae divvent freet and whine:
Co' when he will, he's welcome still
To onie bairn o' mine.
I'll ne'er forget, when we were young,
(Thy mudder kens as weel,)
We met but yence a month, and then
Out she was fworc'd to steal :
The happiest day we e'er had known,
Was when I caw'd her mine,
But monie a thousand happier days
We beath ha'e kent sin-syne.
TUNE," The Campbells are coming."
O, EDEN! whenever I range thy green banks,
And view aw the scenes o' my infantine pranks,
Where wi' pleasure I spŵorted, ere sorrow began,
I sigh to trace onward frae boy to the man:
To memory dear are the days o' yen's youth,
When, enraptur'd, we luik'd at each object wi' truth,
And, like fairies, a thousand wild frolics we play'd~ .
But manhood has chang'd what youth fondly pour-
tray'd.
I think o' my playmates*, dear imps, I lov'd best!
Now divided, like larks efter leaving the nest!
How we trembl'd to schuil, and wi' copy and buik,
Oft read our hard fate in the maister's stern luik;
In summer, let lowse, how we brush'd thro' the wood,
And meade seevy caps on the brink o' the flood;
Or watch'd the seap-bubbles, or ran wi' the kite,
Or launch'd paper navies, how dear the delight!
There was Jock Smith the boggle,-I mind him reet
We twee to Blain's hay-loft together wad steal;
And of giants, ghosts, witches, and fairies oft read,
Till sae freeten'd, we hardly durst creep off to bed:
Then, in winter, we'd caw out the lasses to play,
And tell them the muin shone as breet as the day;
Or scamper, like wild things, at hunting the hare,
Tig-touch-wood, four corners, or twenty gams mair.
Then my fadder, God bless him! at thurteen oft said,
My lad, I mun get thee a bit of a trade;
O, cud I afford it, mair larnin thou'd get!'
But peer was my fadder, and I's unlarned yet.
And then my furst sweetheart, an angel was she!
But I only meade luive thro' the tail o' my
I mind when I met her I panted to speak,
But stood silent, and blushes spread aw owre my cheek.
At last, aw the play-things o' youth laid aside,
Now luive, whope, and fear did my moments divide,
And wi' restless ambition deep sorrow began,
But I sigh to trace onward frae boy to the man:
To memory dear are the days o' yen's youth,
When, enraptur'd, we luik'd at ilk object wi' truth,
And, like fairies, a thousand wild frolics we play'd-
But manhood has chang'd what youth fondly pour-
TUNE," There's nae luck about the house."
NOW, God be prais'd, we've peace at last,
For Nichol he's been down,
And sec a durdum, Nichol says,
They've had in Lunnon town;
The king thought war wad ruin aw,
And Bonnyprat the seame,
And some say teane, and some say
Ha'e long been much to bleame.
Now monie a wife will weep for joy *,
And monie a bairn be fain,
To see the fadders they'd forgot,
Come safe and sound again;
And monie a yen will watch in vain,
Wi' painfu' whopes and fears,
And oft the guilty wretches bleame,
That set fwok by the ears.
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