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 How lost were my days, till I met wi' my Jessy,

The sports o' the city seemed foolish an' vain;

I ne'er saw a nymph I would ca' my dear lassie,

Till charm'd wi' young Jessy, the flower of Dumblain.

Though mine were the station o' loftiest grandeur,

Amidst its profusion I'd languish in pain,

An' reckon as naething the height o' its splendour,

If wanting sweet Jessy, the flower o' Dumblain,

I wanting, &c.

 

 

Lawland lads thinks they are fine,

But O they'e vain an' idle gaudy!