o 



To hear this nightingale 

 Among the birdes small 

 Warbling in the vale, 



' Dug, dug, jug, jug ! 



Good year and good luck ! ' 



With * Chuck, chuck, chuck, chuck ! ' 



SKELTON. 



O GIN MY LOVE 



WERE my love yon lilac fair, 



Wi' purple blossoms to the spring. 



And I a bird to shelter there, 



When wearied on my little wing. 



How I wad mourn when it was torn. 

 By autumn wild, and winter rude ! 



But I wad sing on wanton wing. 



When youthfu' May its bloom renew'd. 



O gin my love were yon red rose. 

 That grows upon the castle wa', 



And I mysel' a drap o' dew 

 Into her bonnie breast to fa' ! 



O ! there beyond expression blest, 

 I 'd feast on beauty a' the night ; 



Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest. 

 Till fley'd awa' by Phoebus' light. 



BURNS. 



17 



