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HERE, for, ae night's kind protection, Leave we Jean and Weans awhile, Tracing Will in ilk direction, Far frae Britain's fostering Isle.

Far frae ſcenes of faſtening pleaſure, Luve's delights and beauty's charms; Far frae friendſhip's ſocial leiſure, Plunged in murdering WAR'S alarms.

Is it nature, vice, or folly, Or ambition's feveriſh brain, That ſae aft, wi melancholy, Turns, sweet PEACE! thy joys to pain.

That, wi a’ thy charms enticing To the ee and to the heart, Ilk endearing bliſs deſpiſing, Tempts weak man frae thee to part.

Willie Gairlace, without ſiller, Credit, claise, or ought beside, Leaves his ance loved Jeanie Miller, And ſweet bairns to warld wide.

Leaves his native cozy dwelling, Sheltered haughs and birken braes, Greenswaird howes and dainty mailing, Ance his profit, pride, and praiſe.

Decked wi ſcarlet, ſword, and musket, Drunk wi dreams as fauſe as vain, Fleeched and flattered, rooſed and buskin, Wow but Will was wonderous fain.