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Now Davie did each lad surpass,
that dwelt on this burn-side,
And Mary was the bonniest lass,
just fit to be a bride;

Her cheeks were rosy, red end white,
her een were bonny b ue;
Her looks were like Aurora bright,
her lips like dropping dew.

As down the burn they took their way,
what t nder tales they said !
His cheek to hers he alt did lay,
and with her bosom play’d;

Till baith at last impatient grown
to be mair fully blest,
In yonder vale they lean’d them down,
love only saw the rest.

What pass’d, I guess, was harmless play,
and naething sure unmeet;
For ganging hame I heard them say,
they lik’d a wa’k sae sweet;

And that they aften should return,
such pleasures to renew,
Quoth Mary, Love, I like the burn,
and ay shall follow you.


GREENWICH MOORINGS.

WITH ti here green from childhood's dock
buoy'd up by youthful notions,