Page:Elegy on the year eighty-eight.pdf/9

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COLIN CLOUT.

, wi' noisy whistle,

Bids the housewife rise in haste;

Colin Clout begins to hirsle

Slawly free his sleepless nest.

Love, that raises sic a clamour,

Driving lads an’ laſſes mad,

Wae’s my heart! had coost his glamour

O’er poor Colin, luckless lad!

Cruel Jenny, lack-a-daisy!

Lang had gart him greet an’ grane;

Colin’s pate was haflins crazy—

Jenny laugh’d at Colin’s pain!

Slawly up his duds he gathers,

Slawly slawly trudges out;

Frae the fauld he drives his weathers,

—Happier far than Colin Clout.

Now the sun, rais’d frae his nappie,

Set the Orient in a low,

Drinkin’ ilka glancin’ drappie,

I’ the field and o’ the know!

Mony a birdie, sweetly singin’,

Flaffer'd briskly round about;