For Johnnie to himsell he said,

As he came duntin' down the brae,

"A wooer ne'er should hing his head, But blink the breeze an' brow the day;" An' Johnnie said unto himsell,

"A wooer risks nae broken banes;

I'll tell the lassie sic a tale

Will gar her look twa gates at anes."

But yet, for a' his antic dress,

His cheeks wi' healthy red did glow; His joints war knit and firm like brass, Though siller-grey his head did grow. An' John, although he had nae lands, Had twa gude kie amang the knowes;

A hunder punds in honest hands,

An' sax-an-thretty doddit yowes.

An' Nelly was a sonsy lass,

Fu' ripe an' ruddy was her mou', Her een war like twa beads o' glass,

Her brow was white like Cheviot woo;

Her cheeks were bright as heather-bells,
Her bosom like December snaw,
Her teeth war whiter nor egg-shells,
Her hair was like the hoody craw.

John crackit o' his bob-tail'd yowes;
He crackit o' his good milk-kie,
His kebbucks, hams, an' cogs o' brose,
An' siller out at trust forby;

An' aye he show'd his boordly limb,
As bragging o' his feats sae rare,

An' a' the honours paid to him

At kirk, at market, or at fair.

Wi' sicklike say he wan the day,

Nell soon became his dashin' bride;

But ilka joy soon fled away

Frae Johnnie's canty ingle side;

For there was fretting late an' air,

An' something aye a-wanting still,

The saucy taunt an' bitter jeer

Now, sic a life does unco ill.

M

An' John will be a gaishen soon;

His teeth are frae their sockets flown;

The hair's peel'd aff his head aboon;
His face is milk-an'-water grown;
His legs, that firm like pillars stood,
Are now grown toom an' unco sma'
She's reaved him sair o' flesh an' blood,
An' peace o' mind, the warst of a'.

May ilka lassie understand

In time the duties of a wife;

But youth wi' youth gae hand in hand,
Or tine the sweetest joys o' life.
Ye men whase heads are turning grey,
Wha to the grave are hastin' on,
Let reason a' your passions sway,
An' mind the fate o' Ettrick John.

Ye lasses, lightsome, blithe, an' fair,
Let pure affection win the hand;
Ne'er stoop to lead a life o' care

Wi' doited age, for gear or land.

When ilka lad your beauty slights,

An' ilka blush is broke wi' wae,

Ye'll mind the lang an' lanesome nights O' Nell, the lassie o' the Brae.

DOCTOR MONROE.

"DEAR Doctor, be clever, an' fling aff your beaver, Come, bleed me an' blister me, dinna be slow; I'm sick, I'm exhausted, my prospects are blasted, An' a' driven heels o'er head, Doctor Monroe !" "Be patient, dear fellow, you foster your fever;

Pray, what's the misfortune that troubles you so?" "O, Doctor! I'm ruin'd, I'm ruin'd for ever— My lass has forsaken me, Doctor Monroe!

"I meant to have married, an' tasted the pleasures,
The sweets, the enjoyments from wedlock that flow;
But she's ta'en another, an' broken my measures,
An' fairly dumfounder'd me, Doctor Monroe!
I am fool'd, I am dover'd as dead as a herring—
Good sir, you're a man of compassion, I know;
Come, bleed me to death, then, unflinching, unerring,

Or grant me some poison, dear Doctor Monroe!"