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And when to ſeriouſneſs I'm bent,
ſhe’s a’together mad.
When I could like to hear her ſpeak.
ſhe chuſes to be dumb ;
And when her ſilence much I ſeek,
ſhe rattles like a drum.
And ſhe’s ay, ay deaving me, &c.
That wedlock is a Paradiſe,
let thoſe that ken it tell;
But yet in my opinion
it’s little leſs than hell :
But hope and comfort yet remain,
comfort, and no more,
Death will come and break the chain,
and free me from her power.
And ſhe’ll ſoon, ſoon bury me, &c.
MARY OF GLENKILLOCH.
Will ye go to Glenlkilloch, Mary,
where the burnie fa’s owre the linn ?
its murmurs are dear to me Mary,
