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And to the fisher's chorus note,

Soft moves the dipping oar.

His toils are borne with happy cheer,

And ever may they speed;

That feeble age, and helpmate dear

And tender bairnies feed.

We cast our lines in Largo bay,

Our nets are flowing wide,

Our bonny boat, with yielding sway,

Rocks lightly on the tide.

And happy prove our daily lot,

Upon the summer sea;

And blest on land our kindly cot,

Where all our treasures be.

The mermaid on her rock may sing,

The witch may weave her charm ;

Nor water-sprite, nor eldrich thing,

The bonny boat can harm.

It safely bears its scaly store,

Thro' many a stormy gale,

While joyful shouts rise from the shore,

Its homeward prey to hail !

We cast our lines, &c.

The BUSH ABOON TRAQUAIR.

Hear me ye nymphs and every swain,

I'll tell how Peggy grieves me;

Tho' thus I laguish thus complain

Alas, she ne'er believes me,