Then aunt, wha spun, laid down her roke, An' thus repliet to Mary: Unequal matches in a yoke Draw thrawart and camstrarie. Since gentle James ye dinna like, Wi 's gear ha'e nae connexion; Tam 's like yoursel', the bargain strike, Grup to him wi' affection. THE FORLORN SHEPHERD.[68] TUNE--_"Banks of the Dee."_ Ye swains wha are touch'd wi' saft sympathy's feelin', For victims wha 're doom'd sair affliction to dree, If a heart-broken lover, despairin' an' wailin', Claim pity, your pity let fa' upon me. Like you I was blest with content, an' was cheerie,-- My pipe wont to play to the cantiest glee, When smilin' an' kind was my Mary, sweet Mary, While Mary was guileless, an' faithfu' to me. She promised, she vow'd, she wad be my half-marrow, The day too was set, when our bridal should be; How happy was I, but I tell you wi' sorrow, She 's perjured hersel', ah! an' ruined me. For Ned o' Shawneuk, wi' the charms o' his riches, An' sly winnin' tales, tauld sae pawky an' slee, Her han' has obtain'd, an' clad her like a duchess, Sae baith skaith an' scorn ha'e come down upon me. Ye braes ance enchantin', o' you I 'm now wearie, An' thou, ance dear haunt, 'neath the aul' thornie tree, Where in rapture I sat an' dawtit fause Mary, Fareweel! ye 'll never be seen mair by me. Awa' as a pilgrim, far distant I 'll wander, 'Mang faces unkent, till the day that I dee. Ye shepherds, adieu! but tell Mary to ponder, To think on her vows, an' to think upon me. [68] This song is here printed for the first time. JOHN ROBERTSON.