By dae ar night, the best ov all,
To zee my Fanny's smilén fiace;
An' dere the stiately trees da grow,
A-rockén as the win' da blow,
While she da sweetly sleep below,
In the stillness o' the night.
An' dere at evemen I da goo,

A-hoppén auver ghiates an' bars,
By twinklen light o' winter stars,
When snow da clumper to my shoe;
An' zometimes we da slyly catch
A chat, an hour upon the stratch,
An' piart wi' whispers at the hatch,
In the stillness o' the night.

An' zometimes she da goo to zome

Young nâighbours' housen down the pliace,
An' I da get a clue to triace
Her out, an' goo to zee her huome

An' I da wish a vield a mile,
As she da sweetly chat an' smile
Along the drove, or at the stile,
In the stillness o' the night.

WILLIAM BARNES.

O MISTRESS MINE.

O MISTRESS mine, where are you roaming?
O, stay and hear! your true-love's coming
That can sing both high and low;
Trip no further, pretty sweeting,
Journeys end in lovers' meeting, -

Every wise man's son doth know.

What is love? 't is not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
What's to come is still unsure:
In delay there lies no plenty,
Then come kiss me, Sweet-and-twenty,
Youth's a stuff will not endure.

SHAKESPEARE

THE LOW-BACKED CAR.

WHEN first I saw sweet Peggy,

'T was on a market day :

A low-backed car she drove, and sat
Upon a truss of hay;

But when that hay was blooming grass,
And decked with flowers of spring,
No flower was there that could compare
With the blooming girl, I sing.
As she sat in the low-backed car,
The man at the turnpike bar
Never asked for the toll,

But just rubbed his owld poll,
And looked after the low-backed car.

I'll bear it all for Sally;
For she 's the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.

Of all the days that's in the week
I dearly love but one day,

And that's the day that comes betwixt
The Saturday and Monday;
For then I'm drest all in my best

To walk abroad with Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.

My master carries me to church,
And often am I blaméd
Because I leave him in the lurch
As soon as text is named:

I leave the church in sermon-time,
And slink away to Sally,

She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.

When Christmas comes about again,
O, then I shall have money!
I'll hoard it up, and, box and all,

I'll give it to my honey;

O, would it were ten thousand pound!
I'd give it all to Sally;

For she 's the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.

My master and the neighbors all
Make game of me and Sally,
And but for her I 'd better be

A slave, and row a galley;
But when my seven long years are out,
O, then I'll marry Sally!

O, then we 'll wed, and then we'll bed,
But not in our alley!

HENRY CAREY.

LOVELY MARY DONNELLY.

O LOVELY Mary Donnelly, it's you I love the best!

If fifty girls were around you, I'd hardly see the

rest;

O, might we live together in a cottage mean and small,

With sods of grass the only roof, and mud the only wall!

O lovely Mary Donnelly, your beauty's my dis

tress;

It's far too beauteous to be mine, but I'll never

wish it less;

The proudest place would fit your face, and I am poor and low,

But blessings be about you, dear, wherever you may go!

WILLIAM ALLINGHAM.

THE POSIE.

It's rolling down upon her neck, and gathered O, LUVE will venture in where it daurna weel be

in a twine.

seen, O, luve will venture in where wisdom ance has been!

The dance o' last Whit-Monday night exceeded But I will down yon river rove amang the woods

all before;

No pretty girl for miles around was missing from the floor;

But Mary kept the belt of love, and O, but she

was gay;

She danced a jig, she sung a song, and took my heart away!

When she stood up for dancing, her steps were so complete,

The music nearly killed itself, to listen to her feet;

The fiddler mourned his blindness, he heard her so much praised,

But blessed himself he was n't deaf when once her voice she raised.

And evermore I'm whistling or lilting what you

sung;

Your smile is always in my heart, your name be

side my tongue.

But you've as many sweethearts as you'd count on both your hands,

And for myself there's not a thumb or little finger stands.

O, you're the flower of womankind, in country or in town;

sae green:

And a' to pu' a posie to my ain dear May.

And I will pu' the pink, the emblem o' my dear,
The primrose I will pu', the firstling o' the year,
For she's the pink o' womankind, and blooms
without a peer:

And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.

I'll pu' the budding rose, when Phoebus peeps in view,

For it's like a balmy kiss o' her sweet bonnie mou'; The hyacinth's for constancy, wi' its unchanging blue:

And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.

The lily it is pure, and the lily it is fair,
And in her lovely bosom I'll place the lily there;
The daisy's for simplicity and unaffected air :
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.
The hawthorn I will pu', wi' its locks o' siller gray,
But the songster's nest within the bush I winna
Where, like an aged man, it stands at break o' day;

take away:

And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.

The woodbine I will pu', when the e'ening star is near,

And the diamond draps o' dew shall be her een sae clear;

The higher I exalt you, the lower I'm cast down. If some great lord should come this way and see The violet 's for modesty, which weel she fa's to your beauty bright,

And you to be his lady, I'd own it was but right.

wear:

And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.