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A Lover's Contribution.

My bonnie Kate, that ye
may ken Ye're wanted by the Fourth Year Men,
To be their heroine again,
Clad in your best,
I've ta'en a thocht to lift my pen,
At your behest.

Yes, daintie lass, ye maun appear,
For we just court ye ance a-year;
And though by chance the Profs., I hear,
Are wild at us,
Yet tak' nae heed, nor drap a tear,
At a' their fuss.

What though Jock Sh—p runs up and down,
His hat scarce stickin' on his crown,
Misca'in' ye for black and brown,
An' breedin' strife;
It's richt weel kent, in a' the town,
He's got a wife!

But we've young hearts to gie awa'—
And ane you'll get, and aiblins a',
Provided ye like Brigham's law,
Across the sea;
But should ye like-na this ava',
Ye're sure o' me.

What maid can be compared wi' you,
Whose cheeks partake the rose's hue,
Whose bonnie witchin' e'en, sae blue,
Us a' mak' skeerie—
E'en ilka Prof, doth sometimes rue
Ye're no his dearie.

And though they may declare they hate
Our love, our gentle, darling Kate,
When ye appear, still, be na' blate,
But smile on a';
And for the Profs., when seen in state,
Care not a straw.

We'll mak' ye envied far and wide,
For in a carriage ye maun ride,
Wi' mounted horsemen by its side,
Swords shining bricht,
To ward awa' oppressions tide,
And guard the richt.

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Then haste, and to our wish agree,
That we again yersel' may see
Amidst your lovers fifty-three,
Wi' hearts sae true—
Lawyers, wizards, sailors, clowns they be,
A motley crew!