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THE SONGS OF BURNS.

299

AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG.

THIRD BALLAD.

Wha will buy my troggin,Fine election ware;Broken trade o' Broughton,A' in high repair.Buy braw troggin,Frae the banks o' Dee;Wha wants trogginLet him come to me.

There's a noble Earl'sFame and high renown,For an auld sang—It's thought the gudes were stown.Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here's the worth o' BroughtonIn a needle's ee;Here's a reputationTint by Balmaghie.Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here's an honest conscienceMight a prince adorn;Frae the downs o' Tinwald—So was never worn.Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here's its stuff and lining,Cardoness' head;Fine for a sodgerA' the wale o' lead.Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here's a little wadsetBuittles scrap o' truth,Pawn'd in a gin-shopQuenching holy drouth.Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here's armorial bearingsFrae the manse o' Urr;The crest, an auld crab-appleRotten at the core.Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here is Satan's picture,Like a bizzard gled,Pouncing poor RedcastleSprawlin' as a taed.Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here's the worth and wisdomCollieston can boast;By a thievish midgeThey had been nearly lost.Buy braw troggin, &c.

Here is Murray's fragmentsO' the ten commands;Gifted by black JockTo get them aff his hands.Buy braw troggin, &c.

Saw ye e'er sic troggin?If to buy ye're slack,Hornie's turnin' chapman,—He'll buy a' the pack.Buy braw troggin, &c.

JOHN BUSHBY'S LAMENTATION.

TUNE—'THE BABES IN THE WOOD.'

'Twas in the seventeen hunder yearO' grace and ninety-five,That year I was the wae'est manO' ony man alive.

In March the three-and-twentieth morn,The sun raise clear and bright;But oh I was a waefu' manEre to-fa' o' the night.