For ALLAN’S dead.
“No more where Coquet’s stream doth glide
Shall we view JEMMY in his pride,
With bagpipe buckled to his side,
And nymphs and swains
In groups collect, at even-tide,
To hear his strains.
“When elbow moved, and bellows blew,
On green or floor the dancers flew,
In many turns ran through and through