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Roier. I'm bom, O Patie. to a thrawart fate !
I'm born to ftrive wi' hardfhifis fad and great.
Tempers may ceafe to jaw the rowan flood.
Corbies and tods to giien for lambkins blood :
But I, oppreft wi' never ending grief.
Maun ay defpair of lighting on relief. flwve,
Patie. The bees (hall loath the flow'r, and quit the
The faughs on boggy ground fliall ceafe to thrive.
Ere fcoriit'a' queans, or lofs of warldly gear.
Shall fpill my reft, or ever force a tear.
Roger. Sae might I fay, but it's no eafy done
By ane whai'e faul's fae iadly out of tun=.
You ha'e fae faft a voice, and flid a tongue.
You are the darling baith of auld and young.
If I bur ettie at a fc^ng, or fpeak.
They dit their lugs, fyne up their leglens cleek.
And jeer me hameward frae the loan or bughl.
While I'm conlu&'d wi' mony s vexing thought;
Yet i am tall and as wiel built as thee.
Nor niair unlikely to a lafs's eye, >v
For ilka iTieep ye ha'e I'll number ten.
And diould, as ane nray think, come farer ben.
Patie. Bat ablins, nibour, ye ha'e not a hearty
And downa eithly ^n' your cunzie part:
It that be true, what figuifies your gear ?
A mind that's fcrinipit never wants ff)me care.
Rop;cr. My by;!r tainbltd, nine braw nowt v/er^
ree elf iLot wtr'", yet I thefe ills endur'd :
winter \a\\ my cares were very fmai',
o' icores of watjiers perilh'd in the f; -►.,'-

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