That she smil'd, and so straightway in love he did fall.
And would this young damsel but banish his sorrow,
He'd wed her to-night, and not wait till to-morrow;
And how should this waterman ever know care,
When, married, was never in want of a _fair_.

_Charles Dibdin_.

CALLER HERRIN'.

Wha'll buy caller herrin'?
They're bonnie fish and halesome farin';
Buy my caller herrin',
new drawn frae the Forth.
When ye were sleeping on your pillows,
Dreamt ye aught o' our puir fellows,
Darkling as they face the billows,
A' to fill our woven willows.
Buy my caller herrin',
They're bonnie fish and halesome farin';
Buy my caller herrin',
new drawn frae the Forth.
Caller herrin', caller herrin'.

An' when the creel o' herrin' passes,
Ladies clad in silks and laces,
Gather in their braw pelisses,
Toss their heads and screw their faces;
Buy my caller herrin',
They're bonnie fish and halesome farin';
Buy my caller herrin',
new drawn frae the Forth.

Noo neebor wives, come, tent my tellin',
When the bonnie fish ye're sellin'
At a word be aye your dealin',
Truth will stand when a' things failin';
Buy my caller herrin',
They're bonnie fish and halesome farin';
Buy my caller herrin',
new drawn frae the Forth.
Wha'll buy my caller herrin'?
They're no brought here without brave darin',
Buy my caller herrin',
Ye little ken their worth.
Wha'll buy my caller herrin'?
O ye may ca' them vulgar farin';
Wives and mithers maist despairin',
Ca' them lives o' men.
Caller herrin', caller herrin'.

_Lady Nairne_.

A HUNTING WE WILL GO.

The dusky night rides down the sky,
And ushers in the morn;
The hounds all join in glorious cry,
The huntsman winds his horn.
And a hunting we will go.

The wife around her husband throws
Her arms to make him stay:
"My dear, it rains, it hails, it blows;
You cannot hunt to-day."
Yet a hunting we will go.

Away they fly to 'scape the rout,
Their steeds they soundly switch;
Some are thrown in, and some thrown out,
And some thrown in the ditch.
Yet a hunting we will go.

Sly Reynard now like lightning flies,
And sweeps across the vale;
And when the hounds too near he spies,
He drops his bushy tail.
Then a hunting we will go.

Fond echo seems to like the sport,
And join the jovial cry;
The woods, the hills the sound retort,
And music fills the sky.
When a hunting we do go.

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