Wit & humour > Gentle shepherd

12
The GENTLE SHEPHERD.
My Peggy fmiles fae kindlyy
Whene'er I nvhifper love,
That I look down on a’ the town.
That Hook down upon a crown.
My Peggy fmiles fac kindly.
It makes me hlyth and hauld ;
And nothing gi’es me ftc delight.
As waking of the fauld.
My Peggy fings fae faftly.
When on my pipe I play ; 1
By a' the rejl, it is aonfejl.
By a' the rejl that foefmgs bef.
My Peggy ftngs fae faftly.
And in her fangs are tald, .
With innocence the wale of fenfe,-
At waking of the Fauld.
^ H I S funny morning, Roger, chears my blood.
And puts all nature in a jovial mood. v
How hartfome is’t to fee the riling plants,
To hear the birds chirm o’er their pleafing rants!
How halefome is’t to fnuff the cawler air,
And all the fweets it bears, when void of care!
What ails thee, Roger, then? What gars thee grane
Tell me the caufe of thy ill-feafon’d pain.
I’m born, O Patie ! to a thrawart fate;
1 m born to drive with hardlhips fad and great.
Temped may ceafe to jaw the row'and flood,
Coibies,and tods to grein for lambkin’s blood:
But I, oppred with never-ending grief,
M tun ay defpair of lighting on relief.
R o c E R.
Patie.