The blackbird, containing one hundred and thirty songs, Scots and English. To which is added, the songs in Love in a village, and The maid of the mill [by I. Bickerstaffe].

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Page 75 - How could you say my face was fair, And yet that face forsake? How could you win my virgin heart, Yet leave that heart to break?
Page 37 - Wi' cauk and keel' I'll win your bread, And spindles and whorles for them wha need, Whilk is a gentle trade indeed, To carry the gaberlunzie on. I'll bow my leg, and crook my knee. And draw a black clout o'er my ee ; A cripple or blind they will ca' me, While we shall be merry and sing.
Page 45 - My breath was gone, my voice was lost : My bosom glow'd ; the subtle flame Ran quick through all my vital frame ; O'er my dim eyes a darkness hung ; My ears with hollow murmurs rung. In dewy damps my limbs were chill'd ; My blood with gentle horrors thrill'd ; My feeble pulse forgot to play ; I fainted, sunk, and died away.
Page 35 - Wi' many good e'ens and days to me, Saying, Goodwife, for your courtesie, Will you lodge a silly poor man ? The night was cauld, the carle was wat, And down ayont the ingle he sat ; My daughter's shoulders he 'gan to clap, And cadgily ranted and sang. O wow ! quo...
Page 67 - I know thee well, an Earl thou art, Lord Piercy, so am I. But trust me, Piercy, pity it were, And great offence, to kill Any of these our harmless men'; For they have done no ill. Let thou and I the battle try. And set our men aside. Accurst be he, Lord Piercy said, By whom this is deny'd.
Page 75 - And made the fcarlet pale ? * And why did I, young witlefs maid, • Believe the flatt'ring tale ! ' That face, alas ! no more is fair, ' Thofe lips no longer red ; ' Dark are my eyes, now clos'd in death,
Page 36 - Since naething's awa', as we can learn, The kirn's to kirn, and milk to earn, Gae but the house, lass, and waken my bairn, And bid her come quickly ben.
Page 24 - Let him, &c. He that will not merry, merry be, With a company of jolly boys; May he be plagued with a scolding wife, To confound him with her noise. Let him, &c.
Page 45 - TDLESS'D as th' immortal gods is he, -*-' The youth who fondly fits by thee, And hears and fees thee all the while, Softly fpeak and fweetly fmile. 'Twas this...
Page 95 - Tis she does the virgins excel ; No beauty with her may compare ; Love's graces around her do dwell : She's fairest where thousands are fair.

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