JEANIE WALKER.
SONG XLVIII.
1
Freshness dwells on my love's cheeks,
Like a dew-washen April gowan;
Her mouth is a delicious spring,
With sweetest eloquence o'er-flowin;
In every glance and smile appear,
Divinest graces of her Maker;
She's the top shoot of beauty's tree,
My young and winsome Jeanie Walker,
2
Meg with her farms and dow'rs of gold,
And naigie's reins of jinglin siller,
Makes all the ladses hearts to leap,
And spring like May-day frogs until her.
I'm no the bird will catch with chaff,
Let those who love sic crinkams take her;
Give me the beauteous treasurie,
That holds the soul of Jeanie Walker.
