aft when reflection brings back to my mind
The days that are gane, when my lassie was kind,
A sigh says I felt then as ne'er I feel now,
My soul was enraptured--I canna tell how.
Yet what need I sing o' the joys that hae been,
And why should I start at the glance o' her een,
Or think o' the dark locks that wave o'er her brow?--
If she 's got ae sweetheart, sure I can get two!

Yestreen when the sun glinted blithe on the hill,
I met her alane by the flower-border'd rill,
I speer'd for her weelfare, but cauld was her air,
And I soughtna' to change it by foul words or fair;
She says I deceived her, how can it be sae?
The heart, ere deceived some affection maun hae,
And that hers had nane, I the sairer may rue,
Though she 's got ae sweetheart, an' I can get two.

She left me for ane wha o' mailins could sing,
Sae gie her the pleasures that riches can bring.
Gae fame to the hero, and gowd to the Jew,
And me the enjoyment that 's prized by the few;
A friend o' warm feeling, and frank and refined,
And a lassie that 's modest, true hearted, and kind,
I 'll woo her, I 'll lo'e her, and best it will do,
For love brings nae bliss when it tampers wi' two.

HOW 'S A' WI' YE.

AIR--_"Jenny's Bawbee."_

Ere foreign fashions cross'd the Tweed,
A bannet happ'd my daddie's head,
Our daintiest fare was milk-and-bread,
Folk scunner'd a' at tea;
When cronies met they didna stand,
To rule their words by manners grand,
But warmly clasping hand in hand,
Said, How 's a' wi' ye.

But now there 's nought but shy finesse,
And mim and prim 'bout mess and dress,
That scarce a hand a hand will press
Wi' ought o' feeling free;
A cauldrife pride aside has laid
The hodden gray, and hame-spun plaid,
And a' is changed since neebors said
Just, How 's a' wi' ye.

Our auld guidwife wore cloak and hood,
The maiden's gown was worset guid,
And kept her ringlets in a snood
Aboon her pawkie e'e;
Now set wi' gaudy gumflowers roun',
She flaunts it in her silken gown,
That scarce ane dare by glen or town
Say, How 's a' wi' ye.

I watna how they manage now
Their brides in lighted ha's to woo,
But it is caulder wark, I trow,
Than e'er it was wi' me;
Aye true unto the trysts we set,
When we among the hawthorns met