Her air sae sweet, an’ shape complete,
     Wi’ nae proportion wanting,
     The Queen of Love did never move
     Wi’ motion mair enchanting.

     Wi’ linked hands we took the sands,
     Adown yon winding river;
     Oh, that sweet hour and shady bower,
     Forget it shall I never!

Esteem For Chloris

     As, Chloris, since it may not be,
     That thou of love wilt hear;
     If from the lover thou maun flee,
     Yet let the friend be dear.

     Altho’ I love my Chloris mair
     Than ever tongue could tell;
     My passion I will ne’er declare—­
     I’ll say, I wish thee well.

     Tho’ a’ my daily care thou art,
     And a’ my nightly dream,
     I’ll hide the struggle in my heart,
     And say it is esteem.

Saw Ye My Dear, My Philly

     Tune—­“When she cam’ ben she bobbit.”

     O saw ye my Dear, my Philly? 
     O saw ye my Dear, my Philly,
     She’s down i’ the grove, she’s wi’ a new Love,
     She winna come hame to her Willy.

     What says she my dear, my Philly? 
     What says she my dear, my Philly? 
     She lets thee to wit she has thee forgot,
     And forever disowns thee, her Willy.

     O had I ne’er seen thee, my Philly! 
     O had I ne’er seen thee, my Philly! 
     As light as the air, and fause as thou’s fair,
     Thou’s broken the heart o’ thy Willy.

How Lang And Dreary Is The Night

     How lang and dreary is the night
     When I am frae my Dearie;
     I restless lie frae e’en to morn
     Though I were ne’er sae weary.

     Chorus.—­For oh, her lanely nights are lang! 
     And oh, her dreams are eerie;
     And oh, her window’d heart is sair,
     That’s absent frae her Dearie!

     When I think on the lightsome days
     I spent wi’ thee, my Dearie;
     And now what seas between us roar,
     How can I be but eerie? 
     For oh, &c.

     How slow ye move, ye heavy hours;
     The joyless day how dreary: 
     It was na sae ye glinted by,
     When I was wi’ my Dearie! 
     For oh, &c.

Inconstancy In Love

     Tune—­“Duncan Gray.”

     Let not Woman e’er complain
     Of inconstancy in love;
     Let not Woman e’er complain
     Fickle Man is apt to rove: 
     Look abroad thro’ Nature’s range,
     Nature’s mighty Law is change,
     Ladies, would it not seem strange
     Man should then a monster prove!

     Mark the winds, and mark the skies,
     Ocean’s ebb, and ocean’s flow,
     Sun and moon but set to rise,
     Round and round the seasons go. 
     Why then ask of silly Man
     To oppose great Nature’s plan? 
     We’ll be constant while we can—­
     You can be no more, you know.