I'm gaun to do't-yes, here I'm willing,

The minute that I get the shilling,

To gang and be a sodger.

And as for her, that saucy fair,

My mind is on a rack;

She's sleighted me-but here I swear,
I'll play the false ane back:
So Roger here I vow and swear
To leave ilk social chiel',

To ilka brae, to ilka burn,

To ane an' a' fareweel."

VI.

Poor senseless Will the shilling got―

The sergeant called the tither pot, And cried, "Our friend will pay't."

The beer was brought-round went the drink—

Will's spirits soon began to sink,

66

They wi' his shilling gaed.

Come, do not let your spirits down;"

The winning soldier said,

"Cheer up my lad, and do not fear,

A man you'll soon be made!"

He cried then, and dried then
The tears that down did fa',
The daft ane, the saft ane,

Was easily won awa'.

VII.

And list again to that loud noise

Of drums and fifes, and men and boys,

Observe ye these are players;

They surely lead an awfu' life,

Of toil and trouble, woe and strife,

Of crosses and of cares:

They're ever pinced by poverty,
And naked near for claise;

Thus strolling through the world they gae,
And spend their weary days.

Nae hame can they claim;

And nae comfort can they have;

They're hurled through the world,

Till they sink into the grave.

VIII.

And mony a funny sight was seen,
Wi' hearty Jock and Rosy Jean,

I wat he gart her reel;

Sure kindness came at ilka hand,

He treated her at tent and stand,
Which pleased the lassie weel.
And mony a chapman chiel' was there,
Wi' ranting roaring voice,

Some selling saft, and some hard-ware,
A penny for your choice!

And a' that I saw,

As I here and there was driven,

Just proved ilka ane loved

To be lightsome as weel's livin'.

THE MILLER O' THE MAINS.

When chapman billies leave the street,
And drouthy neebors neebors meet.

BURNS.

TWILIGHT stole o'er the world, the sun
Sunk in the west,-the day was done;
And packmen, ploughmen, lasses rare,
Wha had been busy at the fair,
And folk wham here I needna name,
Began to wander to their hame.

Our hero gaed, wi' mony mair,
Wha's heart were light and free frae care;
I ween he didna let them weary,

For he was unco blythe and cheerie.

By his queer gait you weel might see
That he had preed the barley bree.
He was the first to sing or crack—
He ca'd them coofs wha linger'd back,
First at the comic sang or story,

And a' he thocht wad gi'e him glory,

Wi' cheerful story, guid auld sang.
The road to them it seem'd nae lang.

They soon gat hame, but ilka pair Maun gang wi' John, till he ance mair Wad treat them; so he enter'd wi' them— His friends I ween were glad to see them. Close by the ingle sat the father, Wha now began to joke and bother The lads and lasses. Free frae care They see the guid auld wife prepare A cheerfu' supper, which, when ended, Strong ale and guid Glenlevit tended To mak' them happy. Ilka chiel, Ere lang, wi' joy began to feel Himsel' as blest as blest could be ;

The time flew owre their heads wi' glee.

Richt blythe and canty a' thegither,
They didna heed nor hear the weather,
Which during a' their glorious feast
Had to an awfu' height increased:
The winds wi' fury high were howling ;-

The watch-dog at the door was yowling ;