The Peerless Rose of Kent.
Troth, ye might hae hain'd your siller
That ye've spent on fripperies vain;
Dotard fool! to think a tailor
E'er could mak' you young again!
When you gat your dandy stays on,
Was❜t to mak' you trig an' sma';
Or for fear that ye might gy zen,
And in staves asunder fa'?
Ye wad tak' me to your bosom,
Buy me braws an' ilk thing nice!
Gude preserve's! I'd soon be frozen,
Clasp'd by sic a sherd o' ice!
Hoot! haud aff-ye're quite ridic❜lous
Wi' your pow as white as snaw,
An' your drumstick-shanks sae feckless,
Aping youth o' twenty-twa;
Wha could thole your senseless boasting,
Squeaking voice, an' ghaistlike grin ?
Doited driveller! cease your hoasting,
Else gie ower your fulsome din.
Wha could sit an' hear a story
'Bout a bosom's burning pains,
Frae an auld "Memento mori,"
Sand-glass, skull, an' twa cross banes ? But for fear my scorn should cool ye, Hark! I'll tell you what I'll do,
When December's wed to July,
There's my fit, I'll then tak' you.
THE PEERLESS ROSE OF KENT.
WHEN beauty, youth, and innocence,
In one fair form are blent,
And that fair form our vestal Queen,
The peerless ROSE of KENT,
Say, where's the Briton's heart so cold—
The Briton's soul so dead,
As not to pour out ardent prayer
For blessings on her head?
This is the day,—the joyous day,—
That sees our lady crown'd,
Hence, may not one disloyal heart,
In Albion's Isles be found;
But may she find in every breast
An undisputed throne,
And o'er a gallant people reign,
Whose hearts are all her own.
For ne'er did woman's hand more fair
The regal sceptre hold,
And ne'er did brow more spotless wear
The coronal of gold;
And ne'er beneath the purple robe
Did purer bosom beat;
So ne'er may truer lieges kneel
A lovelier Queen to greet.
May every blessing from above,
Ön Kent's fair Rose descend,
While wisdom, dignity, and grace,
On all her steps attend.
may she wear fair Virtue's bloom,
Throughout a happy reign,
And long be hail'd the "Queen of Isles "-
Fair Mistress of the Main !
THE ROYAL UNION.
THERE'S joy in the Lowlands and Highlands,
There's joy in the hut and the ha';
The pride o' auld Britain's fair islands,
Is woo'd and wedded an' a':
She's got the dear lad o' her choosing—
A lad that's baith gallant and braw;
And lang may the knot be a-loosing
That firmly has buckled the twa.
Woo'd an' wedded an' a',
Buckled an' bedded an' a',
The loveliest lassie in Britain
Is woo'd an' wedded an' a'.
May heaven's all-bountiful Giver
Shower down his best gifts on the twa;
May love round their couch ever hover,
Their hearts close and closer to draw.
May never misfortune o'ertake them,
Nor blast o' adversity blaw;
But every new morning awake them
To pleasures unsullied as snaw.
Woo'd an' wedded an' a', etc.
Then here's to our Queen an' her Marrow,
May happiness aye be their fa',
May discord and sickness and sorrow
Be banished for ever their ha'.
So, fy let us coup aff our bicker,
And toast meikle joy to the twa,
And may they, till life's latest flicker,
Together in harmony draw.
Woo'd and wedded an' a', etc.
GOD bless our lovely Queen,
With cloudless days serene ;-
God save our Queen.
From perils, pangs and woes,
Secret and open foes,
Till her last evening close,
God save our Queen.
From flattery's poisoned streams ;-
From faction's fiendish schemes,
God shield our Queen ;-
With men her throne surround,
Firm, active, zealous, sound,
Just, righteous, sage, profound;-
God save our Queen.
Long may she live to prove
Her faithful subject's love ;—
God bless our Queen.
Grant her an Alfred's zeal,
Still for the Commonweal,
Her people's wounds to heal;
1;-
God save our Queen.
Watch o'er her steps in youth :-
In the straight paths of truth
Lead our young Queen;
And as years onward glide,
Succour, protect and guide
Albion's hope-Albion's pride ;-
God save our Queen.
Free from war's sanguine stain,
Bright be Victoria's reign;-
God guard our Queen.
Safe from the traitor's wiles,
Long may the Queen of Isles Cheer millions with her smiles ;— God save our Queen.
Ane sober advice to ane drucken Soutar in Perth.
AIR-" Come under my Plaidie."
O PETER M'KAY! O Peter M'Kay!
Gin ye'd do like the brutes, only drink when ye're dry,
Ye might gather cash yet, grow gawcy and gash yet,
And carry your noddle Perth-Provost-pow-high;
But poor drucken deevil, ye're wed to the evil
Sae closely, that naething can sever the tie ;
Wi' boring, and boosing, and snoring, and snoozing,
Ye emulate him that inhabits-the stye.
O Peter M'Kay! O Peter M'Kay!
I'm tauld that ye drink ilka browster wife dry ;—
When down ye get sitting, ye ne'er think o' flitting,
While cogie or caup can a dribble supply ;-
That, waur than a jaw-box, your monstrous maw soaks
Whate'er is poured in till't, while "give" is the cry;
And when a' is drunk up, ye bundle your trunk up,
And bid, like the sloth, the bare timmer good-bye.
O Peter M'Kay! O Peter M'Kay!
Gang hame to your awls, and your lingels apply,
Ca' in self-respect, man, to keep you correct, man—
The task may be irksome-at ony rate try;
But gin ye keep drinking, and dozing, and blinking,
Be-clouding your reason, God's light from on high,
Then Peter, depend on't, ye'll soon make an end on't,
And close your career 'neath a cauld wintry sky.
O MEET ME, LOVE, BY MOONLIGHT.
AIR," This is no mine ain hoose."
O MEET me, love, by moonlight,
By moonlight, by moonlight,
And down the glen by moonlight,
How fondly will I welcome thee!
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