Analysis of Peggy

Now westlin winds and slaught'ring guns
     Bring autumn's pleasant weather;
And the moorcock springs, on whirring wings,
     Amang the blooming heather;
Now waving grain, wide o'er the plain,
     Delights the weary farmer;
And the moon shines bright, when I rove at night.
     To muse upou my charmer.

The partridge loves the fruitful fells;
     The plover loves the mountains;
The woodcock haunts tbe lonely dell;
     The soaring hern the fountains:
Thro' lofty groves the cushat roves,
     The path of man to shun it;
The hazel bush o'erhangs the thrush,
     The spreading thorn the linnet.

Thus ev'ry kind their pleasure find,
     The savage and the tender;
Some social join, and leagues combine
     Some solitary wander:
Avaunt, away, the cruel sway!
     Tyrannic man's dominion;
The sportsman's joy, the murd'ring cry,
     The flutt'ring, gory pinion!

But Peggy dear, the evening's clear,
     Thick flies the skimming swallow;
The sky is blue, the fields in view,
     All fading-green and yellow:
Come let us stray our gladsome way,
     And view the charms of nature;
The rustling corn, the fruited thorn,
     And every happy creature.

We'll gently walk, and sweetly talk,
     Till the silent moon shine clearly;
I'll grasp thy waist, and, fondly prest,
     Swear how I love thee dearly:
Not vernal show'rs to budding flow'rs,
     Not autumn to the farmer,
So dear can be as thou to me,
     My fair, my lovely charmer!

My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose

O, my luve is like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June.
O, my love is like a melodie,
That's sweetly play'd in tune.

As fair thou art, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I,
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun!
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands of life shall run.

And fare the weel, my only luve!
And fare the well awhile!
And I will come again, my love.
Tho' it were ten thousand mile!