48 Orpheus Caledonius*
She.
My Heart alakc, is liken to break.
When I think on my winfome John,
His blinkan Eye and Gate fae free.
Was naithing like thee, thou dofcnd Drone*
His rolie Face and flaxen Hair,
And a Skin as white as ony Swan,
Was large and tall, and comely withal.
And thoult never be like my auld Goodman.
He.
Why doft thou pleen ? I thee maintain.
For Meal and M a wt thou difna want ;
But thy wild Bees I canna pleafe,
Now when our Gear gins to grow fcant.
Of Houlhold StufFthou haft enough.
Thou wants for neither Pot nor Pan ;
Of iicklike Ware he left thee bare,
Sae tell nae mair of thy auld Goodmano
' She.
Yes I may tell, and fret my fell.
To think on thefe blyth Days I had;,
When he and I together lay
In Arms, into a well-made Bed.
But now I figh, and may be fad.
Thy Courage is cauld, thy Colour wan.
Thou falds thy Feet, and fa s afleep,
And thou it ne'er be like my auld Goodman.
Then