TO

Ilka lovely British Lass, ____ Frae Ladys Charlote, Anne, and Jean, Down to ilk bony singing Bess, Wha dances barefoot on the Green.

DEAR LASSES,

Your most humble Slave, Wha ne’er to serve ye shall decline; Kneeling wad your Acceptance crave, When he presents this sma’ Propine.

THEN take it kindly to your Care, Revive it with your tunefu’ Notes; Its Beauties will look sweet and fair, Arising saftly through your Throats.

THE Wanton wee Thing will rejoyce, When tented by a sparking Eye, The Spinnet tinkling with her Voice, It lying on her lovely Knee.

WHILE Kettles dringe on Ingles dure, Or Clashes stays the lazy Lass, Thir Sangs may ward you frae the sowr, And gayly vacant Minutes pass.

E’EN while the Tea's fill’d reeking round, Rather than plot a tender Tongue, Treat a’ the circling Lugs wi’ Sound, Syne safely sip when ye have sung.

MAY Happiness had up your Hearts, And warm ye lang with loving Fires, May Powers propitious play their Parts In matching you to your Desires.

R1

Bony Christy.

How sweetly smells the Simmer green? Sweet taste the Peach and Cherry; Painting and Order please our Een, And Claret makes us merry: But finest Colours, Fruits and Flowers, And Wine, tho’ I be thristy, Lose a’ their Charms and weaker Powers, Compar’d with those of Christy.

When wandring o’er the flow’ry Park, No nat’ral Beauty wanting; 10 How lightsome is't to hear the Lark, And Birds in Consort chanting: But if my Christy tunes her Voice, I’m rap't in Admiration, My Thoughts with Extasies rejoice, And drap the hale Creation.