Tune, Wat ye wha I met yestreen.


WHEN gen'al fun brought down the snow,
And freely loos'd the frost-bound soil,
The melted streams they then did flow,
And ploughmen join'd their ann'al toil;
'Twas then, amidst the vernal throng,
Whom Nature wakes to mirth and love,
I listen'd to their am'rous song,
That thus did echo through the grove.


I looked back and saw my Jean,
For whom I sigh, for whom I mourn;
I bade her listen to my strain,
And grant my love a kind return:
Jean, see the Winter storm is flown,
And Zephyrs warmly fan the air;
Let us love t' each other own
And matrimon'al pastimes share.


To thee I'll shew the joys of love;
With thee I'll share the cares of life;
No fonder husband e'er shall prove,
Nor none shall be a happier wife.
Wilt thou go near yon clearest rill,
Where streams amongst the pebbles stray?
There we will sit and tell our tale,
As long as we have ought to say.


I dropt my song; the pretty Maid,
With tender pity, heard my strain;
She felt, she own'd, and thus she said,
"I'll hasten to relieve thy pain."
Together, through the fields, we stray'd.
Straight to yon pleasant river side,
Where we renew'd our vows, and pray'd
That honest truth might be our guide.


I led her to my wee, small home,
Where I did lie down by her side;
I was the happiest Bridegroom,
And she, no doubt, a well pleas'd Bride.
To get her food I'll plough the fields,
And sow my seeds of ev'ry kind;
Then we shall reap what Nature yields,
And Love's assid'ous care can find.


From my true love I ne'er shall stray,
To taste the world's sweets at large:
I'll stay at home, content and gay,
To help her with her infant charge:
When prompted by parental care,
Both warm and clean we'll keep our young;
With her this task I'll fondly share,
And cheer her labours with my song.


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