Page:Way to be happy, or, The new way of Tullochgorum.pdf/7

 Can the ſons of Britain fail her,

whilſt her daughters prov'd ſo true?

Their ſoft courage muſt avail her:

we love honour, loving you.

Though the flowry ſeaſon wooes you,

to the peaceful ſports of May,

And lovers ſigh ſo long to loſe you,

love to glory muſt give way,

Love and honour both invite us,

blow ye winds, auſpicious blow;

Every gale will moſt delight us,

that will waft you to our foe.



To its own proper Tune

Am as brown as brown can be,

and my eyes as black as a ſloe;

I am as briſk as a nightingale,

and as wild as any doe.

My love ſent me a love letter,

far from yonder's town;

He ſaid, he could not fancy me,

becauſe I was ſo brown.

I ſent his letter back again;

his love I value not,

Whether he could fancy me,

or whether he could not.