Page:Four songs (16).pdf/6

 Then aff wi' his bonnet gat Synion,
 * An' to the Commander he gaes :

Quo' he, Sir, I mean to gae wi' ye, man,
 * An' help ye to lounder our faes.

I'm auld, yet I'm teugh as the wire,
 * Sae we'll at the rogues have a dash,

An' legs, if my gun winna fire.
 * I'll turn her butt end, an' I'll thrash.

Well spoken, my hearty old hero,
 * The Captain did smiling reply,

But begg'd he wad stay till to-morrow,
 * Till day-light should glent in the sky.

Whatreck, a' the stour cam to naething ;
 * Sae Symon, an' Janet his dame,

Hale skart frae the wars without skaithing,
 * Gaed bannin' the French again hame.

IT was on a pleasant morning,
 * As I sat on my easy chair,

All in a cottage of my own,
 * My mind was free from strife and care ;

A fair maid came unto me,
 * And kindly catch'd me by the hand,

I long to hear a verse or two,
 * That's made in praise of Paddy's land.