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Saç kyndly to his nichtbouris neist,
At Beltane and Sanct Barchan's fcast
He blew, and then hald up his briest

As he war weid;
Bot now we neid na him arreist,

For Habbie's deid.

At fairis he playit befoir the speir-men,
And gaillie graithit in thair geir, quhen
Steill bonetis, jakis, and swordis sa cleit then,

Lyke ony beid;
Now quha shall play befoir sic weir-men

Sen Habbie's deid ?

At Clark-playis quhen he wont to cum,
His pype playit trimlie to the drum;
Lyke bykes of beis he gart it bum

An tuneit his reid ;.
Bot now our pypes may a' sing dum,

Son Habbie's deid.

And at hors racis many a day,
Befoir the blak, the brown, and gray,
He gart his pypis quhan he did play,

Bayth skirl and screid; Now al sic pastymis quyte away,

Sen Habbie's deid.

He countit was ane weild wicht man,
And ferslie at fute-ball he ran ;
At everie game the gre he wau

For pith and speid;
The lyke of Habbie was na then;

Bot now he's deid.

And then besyde his valyiant actis,
At bridalis he wan mony plackis;
He bobbit aye behind fowks bakis,

And schuke his heid;
Now we want mony merrie crackis

Sen Habbie's deid,

Hee was convoyer o' the bryde,
Wi' bittock hingand at his syde;
About the kirk he thocht a pryde

The ring to leid;
Now we maun gae bot ony guyde,

For Habbie's deid.

Sa weill's he keipit his decorum,
And all the stotis of Quhip Meg Morum;
He slew a man, and waes me for him,

And bare the feid;
And yet the man wan hame befoir him,

And wasna deid.

Aye quhen he playit, the lassis leuch
To sie him teethless, auld, and teuch;
He wan bis pypis beside Bar-cleuch,

Withoutein dreid;
Quhilk efter wan hym gear eneuch,

Bot now he's deid.

Aye quhan he playit the gaithlings gedderit,
And quhan he spak, the carll bladderit;
On Sabboth-dayis his cape was fedderit,

A seimlie weid;
In the Kirk-yeird his meir stude tedderit,

Qubar he lyis deid.

Alace! for him my heart is sair,
For of his spryngis I got a skair,
At everie play, race, feist, and fair,

Bot gyle or greid;
We need not luke for pyping mair

Sen Habbie's deid.

Robert Sempill * We refer to the Visitor, published at Greenock, for Notes, explanatory of this Epitaph, and also to the Paisley Repository.-Editor.

THE BLYTHSUM BRIDAL.

Fy let us a' to the bridal,

For there will be lilting there;
For Jockie's to be marry'd to Maggie,

The lass wi' the gouden hair.
And there will be lang-kail and pottage,

And bannocks of barley meal,
And there will be good saut herring,
To relish a cog of good ale.
Fy let us a' to the bridal,

For there will be lilting there,
For Jockie's to be marry'd to Maggie,

The lass wi' the gouden hair.

And there will be Sandie the sutor,

And Will wi' the meikle mou; And there will be Tam the blutter,

Wi’ Andrew the tinkler, I trow; And there will be bow'd-legged Robbie,

Wi' thumbless Kattie's goodman; And there will be blue-cheeked Dobbie, And Lawrie the laird of the land.

Fy let us a', &c.

And there will be sow-libber Patie,

And ploukie-fac'd Wat in the mill, Capper-nos'd Francie, and Gibbie,

That wons in the how of the hill;
And there will be Alaster Sibbie,

Wha in wi' black Bessie did mool,
Wi' snivelling Lilly and Tibby,
The lass that stands aft on the stool.

Fy let us a', &c.

And Madge that was buckled to Steenie,

And coft him grey breeks to his arse, Wha after was hangit for stealing,

Great mercy it happen'd na warse :

And there will be gleed Geordy Janners,

And Kirsh wi' the lily-white leg,
Wha gade to the south for manners,
And bang'd up her wame in Mons-meg.

Fy let us a', &c.
And there will be Judan Maclawrie,

And blinking daft Barbara Macleg,
Wi' flae-lugged sharny-fac'd Lawrie,

And shangy-mou'd halucket Meg. And there will be happer-ars'd Nansy,

And fairy-fac'd Flowrie by name, Muck Madie, and fat-hippit Grisy, The lass wi' the gowden wame.

Fy let us a', fed

And there will be girn-again Gibbie,

Wi' bis glakit wife, Jenny Bell, And misle-shinn’d Mungo Macapie,

The lad that was skipper himsel. Tbere lads and lasses in pearlings

Will feast in the heart of the ha', On sybows, and rifarts, and carlings, That are baith sodden and raw.

Fy let us a', &c.

And there will be fadges and brachen,

With fowth of good gabbocks of skate, Powsowdie, and drammock, and crowdy,

And caller nowt-feet in a plate; . And there will be partans and buckies,

And whytens and speldens enew, Wi' sing'd sheep-heads, and a haggies, And scadlips to sup till ye spew.

Fy let us a', &c.

And there will be lapper'd-milk kebbucks,

And sowens, and farles, and baps, Wi' swats, and well-scraped paunches,

And brandy in stoups and in caps :

And there will be meal-kail and tastocks,

And skink to sup till ye rive; And roasts to roast on a brander Of flowks that were taken alive.

Fy let us a', &c.

Scrapt haddocks, wilks, dulse, and tangle,

And a mill of good sneeshing to prie ;
When weary with eating and drinking,
We'll rise up and dance till we die.
Fy let us a' to the bridal,

For there will be lilting there;
For Jockie's to be marry'd to Maggic,
The lass wi' the gouden hair.

Francis Sempill.

TWEEDSIDE.

What beauties does Flora disclose ?

How sweet are her smiles upon Tweed? Yet Mary's still sweeter than those ;

Both nature and fancy exceed.
Nor daisy, nor sweet blushing rose,

Not all the gay flowers of the field,
Not Tweed, gliding gently through those,

Such beauty and pleasure does yield,

The warblers are heard in the grove,

The linnet, the lark, and the thrush, The blackbird, and sweet cooing dove,

With music enchant every bush, Come, let us go forth to the mead,

Let us see how the primroses spring; We'll lodge in some village on Tweed,

And love while the feather'd folks sing. How does my love pass the long day?

Does Mary not tend a few sheep? Do they never carelessly stray,

While happily she lies asleep ?

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