Yet such a head, and more the heart
Does both the sexes honour:
She show'd her taste refin'd and just,
When she selected thee;
Yet deviating, own I must,
For sae approving me:
But kind still I'll mind still
The giver in the gift;
I'll bless her, an' wiss her
A Friend aboon the lift.




Song, Composed In Spring

Tune--"Jockey's Grey Breeks."


Again rejoicing Nature sees
Her robe assume its vernal hues:
Her leafy locks wave in the breeze,
All freshly steep'd in morning dews.

Chorus.--And maun I still on Menie doat,
And bear the scorn that's in her e'e?
For it's jet, jet black, an' it's like a hawk,
An' it winna let a body be.

In vain to me the cowslips blaw,