Page:Bruce's address (2).pdf/7

7 Heaven knows that I never lov'd sinning Except little sinning's in love!

If swering, however, will do it, Come, bring me the Callender, pray- I vow, by that lip, I'll go through it, And not miss a saint on my way. The angels shall help me to whedle, I'll swear upon every one That over danc'd on the point of a neddle, Or rode on a bean of the sun!

O! why should Plantonic control, love, Enchain an emotion so free? Your soul, though a very sweet soul, love, Will ne'er be sufficient for me. If you think, by this coldness and scorning, To see more angelic and bright, Be an angel, my love, in the morning, But, oh! be a woman to-night!

CONVIVIAL SONG.

Air-Green grow the rashes, O.

Gie me but Highland Whisky, O, Gie nie but Highland Whisky, O, I never fash mysel' wi' care, Gin I get routh o' whisky, O.