Scotish Comic Ballads XLV

Come Annie, let us kiss our fill, And never dream of future ill: Youthheid is Love's haliday, Let us use it whan we may.

See the fields are fill'd wi snaw, The winter-blasts fou bitter blaw; In icy chains the streams are tyed: Tint is a the simmer's pride.

We, my luvely lass, owr sune, Whan our laughing simmer's done, Maun the blasts o Age sustain; And yield us to Death's icy chain.

Let us bruik the present hour, Let us pou the fleeting flouir; Youthheid is Love's haliday, Let us use it whan we may.