But a club of good fellows, like those that are here, And a bottle like this, are my glory and care.

Here passes the squire on his brother-his horse; There centum-per-centum, the cit with his purse; But see you the Crown,' how it waves in the air! There a big-bellied bottle still eases my care.

6

The wife of my bosom, alas! she did die;
For sweet consolation to church I did fly;
I found that old Solomon proved it fair,
That a big-bellied bottle's a cure for all care.

I once was persuaded a venture to make;
A letter inform'd me that all was to wreck ;
But the pursy old landlord just waddled up stairs,
With a glorious bottle, that ended my cares.

"Life's cares they are comforts,'

"* a maxim laid down By the bard, what d'ye call him, that wore the black

gown;

And faith I agree with th' old prig to a hair,
For a big-bellied bottle's a heaven of care.

[STANZA ADDED IN A MASON lodge.]

Then fill up a bumper, and make it o'erflow,
And honours masonic prepare for to throw ;
May every true brother of the compass and square
Have a big-bellied bottle when harass'd with care.

Young's Night Thoughts.

SCORNFU' NANCY.

TUNE-Nancy's to the Greenwood gane.

NANCY'S to the greenwood gane,
To hear the gowdspink chatt'ring;
And Willie he has follow'd her,
To gain her love by flatt'ring:
But, a' that he could say or do,
She geck'd and scorned at him;
And, aye when he began to woo,
She bad him mind wha gat him.

What ails ye at my dad, quoth he,
My minnie or my auntie ?
Wi' crowdy-mowdy they fed me,
Lang-kale and ranty-tanty:
Wi' bannocks o' gude barley-meal,
Of thae there was richt plenty,
Wi' chappit stocks fu' butter'd weel,
And was not that richt dainty?

Although my father was nae laird,
'Tis daffin to be vaunty,
He keepit aye a guid kale-yard,
A ha' house, and a pantry:
A guid blue bonnet on his head,
An owerlay 'bout his craigie;
And aye, until the day he dee'd,
He rade on guid shanks-naigie.'

Now wae and wonder on your snout,
Wad ye hae bonny Nancy?
Wad ye compare yoursell to me—
A docken till a tanzie ?

I hae a wooer o' my ain,

They ca' him Souple Sandy;

And weel I wat his bonny mou'
Is sweet like sugar-candy.

Now, Nancy, what need a' this din?
Do I no ken this Sandy?
I'm sure the chief o' a' his kin
Was Rab, the beggar-randy:
His minny Meg, upon her back,
Bare baith him and his billy;
Will ye compare a nasty pack
To me, your winsome Willy?

My gutcher left a guid braidsword:
Though it be auld and rusty,
Yet ye may tak' it on my word,
It is baith stout and trusty;
And if I can but get it drawn,
Which will be richt uneasy,
I shall lay baith my lugs in pawn,
That he shall get a heezy.

Then Nancy turn'd her round about,
And said, Did Sandy hear ye,
Ye wadna miss to get a clout;

I ken he disna fear ye:

Sae haud your tongue, and say nae mair,
Set somewhere else your fancy;
For as lang's Sandy 's to the fore,

Ye never shall get Nancy.*

*This clever song is marked in the Tea-Table Miscellany as one of the anonymous and old sort of which the editor knew nothing; but I have been informed, upon good authority, that it was the composition of a Mr Ainslie, a small farmer at Carrington, near Dalkeith, who lived upwards of a century ago. It seems to present a just, as it certainly does a graphic picture of the food and dress of the rustic people of Scotland at that period.

THE HIGHLAND QUEEN..
TUNE-The Highland Queen.

No more my song shall be, ye swains,
Of purling streams or flowrie plains;
More pleasing beauties now inspire,
And Phoebus deigns the warbling lyre.
Divinely aided, thus I mean

To celebrate, to celebrate,

To celebrate my Highland Queen.

In her sweet innocence you'll find,
With freedom, truth, and virtue join'd;
Strict honour fills her spotless soul,
And gives a lustre to the whole.

A matchless shape and lovely mien,
All centre in, all centre in,

All centre in my Highland Queen.

No sordid wish, or trifling joy,
Her settled calm of mind destroy;
From pride and affectation free,
Alike she smiles on you and me.
The brightest nymph that trips the green,
I do pronounce, I do pronounce,
I do pronounce my Highland Queen.

How blest that youth whom gentle fate
Has destined to so fair a mate,
With all those wondrous gifts in store,
To which each coming day brings more.
No man more happy can be seen,
Possessing thee, possessing thee,
Possessing thee, my Highland Queen.*

* From an old manuscript copy. The first printed collection in which it is observable, seems to be that of Herd, 1776. In the Scots Musical Museum, the "poetry and music both" are stated to have been "by a Mr M'Vicar, once of the Solbay man-of-war."

THE YOUNG LAIRD AND EDINBURGH

KATIE.

RAMSAY.

TUNE-Tartan Screen.

Now wat ye wha I met yestreen,
Coming down the street, my joe?
My mistress, in her tartan screen,
Fu' bonnie, braw, and sweet, my joe!
My dear, quoth I, thanks to the nicht
That never wiss'd a lover ill,

Sin' ye're out o' your mither's sicht,
Let's tak' a walk up to the hill.*

Oh, Katie, wilt thou gang wi' me,

And leave the dinsome toun a while?
The blossom's sprouting frae the tree,
And a' creation's gaun to smile.
The mavis, nichtingale, and lark,

The bleating lambs and whistling hynd,

The Old Town of Edinburgh, now so degraded, but formerly a place of the highest fashion, is the locality of this fine song, of which the first verse contains a picture of certain customs which obtained a century ago in the capital of Scotland, but are now totally forgotten by all except the antiquary. A young country gentleman, walking up the High Street in the evening, encounters his mistress, no doubt a young lady of good birth as well as breeding, and recognises her even under the tartan garment, then used by all sorts of women as a veil, and against which, as affording peculiar facilities for intrigue, the whole vengeance of the town-council and the kirk-session had been directed in vain. He solicits her to walk with him up to the hill-the abbreviated popular phrase for the esplanade in front of Edinburgh Castle, which was then the only promenade at the command of the citizens, and a favourite place among lovers for nocturnal assignations. In their walk along the Castle Hill, he takes advantage of the situa tion to depict the delights of a summer residence in the country, which, in all its poetical and sunshine beauty, may be supposed to have contrasted strongly with the darksomeness and din of the city beneath, and therefore to have disposed the young lady very favourably to his suit.

It is quite as remarkable as it is true, that the mode of courtship among people of the middle ranks in Edinburgh has undergone a complete change in the course of no more than the last thirty years. It used to be customary for lovers to walk together for hours, both during the day and the evening, in the Meadows, or the King's Park, or the fields now occupied by the New Town; practices now only known to artizans and serving-girls. The song appeared in the Tea-Table Miscellany, 1724.