(4)
He ſcorn'd to battle wi' a woman,
but fell upon a better ſcheme,
Aff he ſunn'd, but ne'er return'd
to this ſurly grumblin' dame.
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ANSWER
TO GRAGAL MACHREE.
HARD by a clear fountain, in the ſweet month of May,
In ſearch of my true love I happ'ned to ſtray;
I heard a young damſel there loudly complain,
In ſorrow, for parting from her darling ſwain.
O cruel parents, where-ever you be,
That baniſh’d my darling ſweet Jamie from me;
No ⟨other⟩ man breathing my favour ſhall gain,
The pride of all nature's my own darling ſwain.
Thro' lonely wild deſarts and hills I'll roam,
To wild birds and fiſhes I'll make my moan;
All riches and grandeur I now will diſdain,
Thro’ the world I'll wander for my darling ſwain.
His breath is more ſweet than the roſes in June!
