XIII.
Now, Donald, tak' a frien's advice—
I ken fu' weel ye fain wad hae her;
As ye are happy, sae be wise,
And ha'd ye wi' a smackie frae her:
Ye 're wooing at her, fain wad hae her,
Courting her, will maybe get her;
Bonny Lizzy Liberty, there 's ow'r mony wooing at her.
XIV.
Ye 're weel, and wat'sna, lad, they 're sayin',
Wi' getting leave to dwall aside her;
And gin ye had her a' your ain,
Ye might na find it mows to guide her:
Ye 're wooing at her, fain wad hae her,
Courting her, will maybe get her;
Cunning quean, she 's ne'er be mine, as lang 's sae mony 's wooing at her.
THE STIPENDLESS PARSON.
Tune—"A Cobbler there was," &c.
I.
How happy a life does the Parson possess,
Who would be no greater, nor fears to be less;
Who depends on his book and his gown for support,
And derives no preferment from conclave or court!
Derry down, &c.