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The Deceiver, pp.153-154.

[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]

WIth tuneful pipe, and hearty glee, 

Young Waty wan my heart; 

A blyther lad ye cou’dna see, 

All beauty without art. 

His winning tale 

Did soon prevail 

To gain my fond belief; 

But soon the swain 

Gangs o’er the plain, 

And leaves me full, and leaves me full, 

And leaves me full of grief. 


Tho’ Colin courts with tuneful sang, 

Yer few regard his mane; 

The lasses a’ ‘round Waty thrang, 

While Colin’s left alane: 

In Aberdeen 

Was never seen 

A lad that gave sic pain, 

He daily wooes, 

And still pursues, 

Till he does all, till he does all, 

Till he does all obtain. 


But soon as he has gain’d the bliss, 

Away then does he run, 

And hardly will afford a kiss, 

To silly me undone: 

Bony Katy 

Maggy, Beatty

Avoid the roving swain; 

His wyly tongue 

Be sure to shun, 

Or you, like me; or you, like me, 

Like me will be undone. 

Old Songs

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