Page:Little taylor's wedding.pdf/5

 Crying, O, what will come o' me, Fy, for I'm like for to ſpew, Sic a byreful of maids beſhit, And the midden is heepet up fu'. The beggars and bairns about, Likewiſe to the bunneuch were put, And ſic a great day of dunging, The Knockerland never did get. The bride and her maidens ſat greeting, And crying their credit was crackt, We'll neither get tailor nor ſooter, Such a more in our marriage they'll mak, Crying, O what will come o' me, And O, what will we do now, Young lads will funner to ſee us, Our tails they never will trow.

MACPHERSON'S Farewell.

FAREWELL, ye dungeons dark and front, The wretch's deſtinie, McPherſon's time will not be long, On yonder gallows-tree. Sae rantingly, ſae wantonly, Sae dauntingly gaed he, He play'd a ſpring and danc'd it round, Below the gallows tree.

O what is death but parting breath! On many a bloody plain,