II.

Low in your wintry beds, ye flowers,
Again ye'll flourish fresh and fair;
Ye birdies dumb, in with'ring bowers,
Again ye'll charm the vocal air.
But here, alas! for me nae mair,

Shall birdie charm, or floweret smile;
Fareweel the bonnie banks of Ayr,

Fareweel, fareweel! sweet Ballochmyle!

SONG XXXVI.

WILLIE BREW'D A PECK O' MAUT.

AIR. THE HAPPY TOPERS.

I.

O WILLIE brew'd a peck o' maut,
And Rob and Allan cam to see;
Three blyther hearts, that lee-lang night,
Ye wad na find in Christendie.

We are na fou, we're nae that fou
But just a drappie in our e'e;
The cock may craw, the day may daw,
And ay we'll taste the barley bree.

II.

Here are we met, three merry boys,
Three merry boys I trow are we;
And mony a night we've merry been,
And mony mae we hope to be!
We are na fou, &c.

III.

It is the moon, I ken her horn,

That's blinkin in the lift sae hie;

She shines sae bright to wyle us hame,
But by my sooth she'll wait a wee!
We are na fou, &c.

IV.

Wha first shall rise to gang awa,
A cuckold, coward loun is he!
Wha first beside his chair shall fa',
He is the king amang us three!

We are na fou, &c.

Willie, who "brew'd a peck o' maut," was Mr William Nicol; and Rob and Allan, were our poet, and his friend, Allan Cleghorn. These three honest fellows,all men of uncommon talents, are now all under the turf.