. Scottish songs : in two volumes . t unto thy courtefy ;For if fhe do, O ! cruel thou Wilt her abufe, and care not how,Balow, &c. But curfe not him, perhaps now he, Stung with remorfe, is bleffing thee:Perhaps at death ; * for who can tell,Whether the judge of heaven and hell, R3 ( i6t ) By fome proud foe has ftruck the blow,r And laid the dear deceiver , Sec. I wifh I .were into the boundsWhere he lies fmotherd in his wounds,Repeating, as he pants for air,My name, whom once he calld his fair :No woman is fo fiercely fet,But * fhell forgive, tho not , &c. If linnen lack
. Scottish songs : in two volumes . t unto thy courtefy ;For if fhe do, O ! cruel thou Wilt her abufe, and care not how,Balow, &c. But curfe not him, perhaps now he, Stung with remorfe, is bleffing thee:Perhaps at death ; * for who can tell,Whether the judge of heaven and hell, R3 ( i6t ) By fome proud foe has ftruck the blow,r And laid the dear deceiver , Sec. I wifh I .were into the boundsWhere he lies fmotherd in his wounds,Repeating, as he pants for air,My name, whom once he calld his fair :No woman is fo fiercely fet,But * fhell forgive, tho not , &c. If linnen lacks, for my loves fake,Then quickly to him would I make,My fmock, once for his body meet,And wrap him in that winding-fheet:Ay me! how happy had 1 been,If he had neer been wrapt therein!Baloiv, &c. Balow, my boy, Ill weep for thee,« Too foon, alake thoult weep for me !*Thy griefs are growing to a fum,God grant thee patience when they come IBorn to fuftain, thy mothers fhame ;A haplefs fate, a baftards name!Bakvj, & S C O T I S H SONGS, CLASS the SECOND. SONG I. THE KING JAMES V. The paw-ky auld carle came oer thelee, Wi many good eens and days to tr— ( 164 ) 1 K N —d—J—*-■ me, Saying, goodwife, for your courte- pslta) fie, Will you lodge a fil - ly poor »i^ man ? The night was cauld, the H^M^SS carle was wat, And down a - yont the ir~ * PpeJbziEzr: 33 BHif in- gle he fat; My daughters moulders he JJQ= « BfrESEEEi —^ «L_ gan to clap, And cadgi-ly ranted ( 165 ) O wow ! quo he, were I as free,As firil when I faw this country,How blyth and merry wad I be ! And I wad never think lang. .He grew canty, and ihe grew fain ;But little did her auld minny kenWhat thir llee twa togither were fayng, When wooing they were fae thrang. And O ! quo he, ann ye were as blackAs eer the crown of my dadys hat,Tis I wad lay thee by my back, And awa wi me thou fhoud O ! quo fhe, ann I were as white,As eer the fnaw lay on the dike,Id dead me braw and lady li
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