All gay as the lark the green woodlands we trac'd, The sports of the field, when concluded and o'er, My beautiful Maid. WHEN absent from her whom my soul holds most dear, What a medley of passions invade! In this bosom what anguish, what hope, and what fear, I endure for my beautiful maid. In vain I seek pleasure to lighten my grief, The Beggar. A BEGGAR I am, and of low degree, In running I leave the beadle behind, I'm hung with bags, A bag for the leg of a goose; For my groats a bag, And a bottle to hold my boose. It's now "Heaven bless you for your charity !" In begging a farthing I'm poor and old, It's "my noble masters, your charity!" "Stand and deliver, or I'll knock you down!" At night-oh! a barn, and buxom lass. I'm cloth'd in rags, &c. WHAT wonderful times we have liv'd to behold, Events that surprise both the young and the old; All Europe is now in a bustle, we know, And England, to raise the supplies to her aid, Let all single gentlemen learn from this plan, The tidings they heard of this tax, people say, Come, bachelors, this is no time for delay, Then, ladies, compassion to bachelors show, Sweet Jess of the Vale. O'ER thy green mossy bed still shall softly meander, Thy waters, sweet Don, as they swell in the gale: But no more on thy banks, by the moonbeams shall wander, {་£ The blossom of beauty, sweet Jess of the vale. On thy wood-sloping sides, still the birch and the willow, Shall wave their green boughs, and the dark rugged pine; But the rose and the violet, the boast of the valley, No more round their branches shall sportively twine. As the bright blushing rose, at day's early gleaming, To the glances of Sol all its fragrance displays; So blooming in beauty, with youth and hope beaming, Jess bask'd in the sunshine of love's smiling rays. Young Henry, whose heart with soft glances alluring The maids of the village in vain sought to gain; The graces of Jessy, all others obscuring, Triumphant in Henry's true bosom did reign, But hope's smiling vision their mutual love crowning, Sad fate's sterner mandate dissolv'd into air; The trumpet of war, their loud sorrows drowning, Call'd Henry to arms, and left Jess to despair. Now bathing in anguish her sad lonely pillow, Jess fadingly droop'd like the primrose so pale, Till sinking in death, by a wide-spreading willow, Reposes for ever sweet Jess of the vale, We'll gang to Kirk awa. MY lad's a braw and bonny lad, And day and night the bonny boy For though they say we shanna wed, Still Jammie fondly whispers me, 66 'Hoot! dinna care a pin !" For we will gang to kirk, my love, My father's grown a crabbed man, Still Jammie fondly whispers me, For we will gang to kirk, &c, My granny 's kind, and takes our part And Jammie's hopes are join'd to mine, For we will gang to kirk, &c. |