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 Now the trembled all over with terror and rage, And he tore off the hair from his head: (aſſuage; 'Nought,' ſaid he 'while you liv'd could your clamour 'But why muſt I for ever your d—'d tongue engage? 'Z——ds! why can't you reſt now you're dead?'

Thus teaz'd, thus he plung'd, hurry'd on by deſpair, In a ſtreamlet which willows o'erhung; And 'tis ſaid dreadful ſcoldings are heard in the air; For he's doom'd, for his crime, never ceaſing to hear The noiſe of the Termagant's tongue.

When hoots the ſcreech owl on the old cottage walls, When day's golden glories are fled, Still Knave! Thief! & Cuckold her Huſband ſhe calls; When, if the takes breath, he impatiently bawls, Z——ds! hy can't you reſt now you're dead!'





Saw ye my wee thing, ſaw ye my ain thing, Saw ye my true love down on yon lee?' Croſs'd the the meadow yeſtereen, at the glooming, Sought the the burnie where flow'rs the haw-tree?

"Her hair is lint-white! her ſkin is milk white! "Dark is the blue o' her faſt rolling e'e! "Red red her ripe lips, and ſweeter than roſes, "Whar cou'd my wee thing wander frae me?"

'I ſaw na your wee thing, I ſaw na your ain thing, 'Nor ſaw I your true love down on yon lee; 'But I met my bonny thing late in the glooming, 'Down by the burnie whar flow'rs the haw-tree.

'Her hair is lint-white, her ſkin it is milk white, 'Dark was the blue o' her faſt rolling e'e ! 'Red war her ripe lips, and ſweeter than roſes, 'Sweet war the kiſſes that ſhe gae to me!'

"It was na my wee thing, it was na my ain thing! "It was na my true love ye met by the tree ! "Proud is her leel heart, modell her nature, "She never loo'd ony till ance ſhe loo'd me.