ll our Fears;
In hopes this Declaration moves,
Some Pity to our Tears:
Let's hear of no Inconstancy,
We have too much of that at Sea,
_With a Fa, la, la, la, la._

_Bonny_ KATHERN LOGGY. _A_ Scotch SONG.

[Music]

As I came down the hey Land Town,
There was Lasses many,
Sat in a Rank, on either Bank,
And ene more gay than any;
Ise leekt about for ene kind Face,
And Ise spy'd _Willy Scroggy_;
Ise spir'd of him what was her Name,
And he caw'd her _Kathern Loggy_.

A sprightly bonny Gurl sha was,
And made my Heart to rise _Joe_;
Sha was so fair sa blith a Lass,
And Love was in her Eyes so:
Ise walkt about like ene possest,
And quite forgot poor _Moggy_;
For nothing now could give me rest,
But bonny _Kathern Loggy_.

My pratty _Katy_ then quoth I,
And many a Sigh I gave her;
Let not a Leard for _Katy_ die,
But take him to great Favour:
Sha laught aloud, and sa did aw,
And bad me hemward to ge;
And still cry'd out awaw, awaw,
Fro bonny _Kathern Loggy_.

A Fardel farther I would see,
And some began to muse me;
The Lasses they sat wittally,
And the Lads began to Rooze me:
The Blades with Beaus came down she knows,
Like ring Rooks fro _Strecy Boggy_;
And four and twanty _Highland_ Lads,
Were following _Kathern Loggy_.

When I did ken this muckle Trame,
And every ene did know her;
I spir'd of _Willy_ what they mean,
Quo he they aw do Mow her:
There's ne'er a Lass in aw _Scotland_,
From _Dundee_ to _Strecy Boggy_;
That has her Fort so bravely Mann'd,
As bonny _Kathern Loggy_.

At first indeed I needs must tell,
Ise could not well believe it;
But when Ise saw how fow they fell,
Ise could not but conceive it.
There was ne'er a Lad of any note,
Or any deaf young Roguey;
But he did lift the welly Coat,
Of bonny _Kathern Loggy_.

Had I kenn'd on Kittleness,
As I came o'er the Moore _Joe_;
Ise had n'er ban as Ise ha dun,
Nor e'er out-stankt my seln so:
For I was then so stankt with stint,
I spurr'd my aw'd Nagg _Fogey_;
And had I kenn'd sha had been a Whore,
I had ne'er Lov'd _Kathern Loggy_.

(_The_ Catholick _Brother_) _A_ SONG.

[Music]

Dear _Catholick_ brother are you come from the Wars,
So lame of your foots and your Face full of Scars;
To see your poor _Shela_ who with great grief was f