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With red-hot balls their, thunder freight.
and up one Frenchman blew in air!
The other ſtruck her colours now,
but, and too late his life to ſave,
For e'er the hoſtile flag was low,
a ſhot had mark'd him for the grave
BUXOM BONNY WILLIE.
When fragrant bloom of yellow broom
delights our lads and laſſes,
O'er yellow broom in beauty's bloom
my Will all lads' ſurpaſſes
Wi' Wallie then I'll o'er the braes,
I'll o'er the braes wi' Willie;
We Willie then I'll o'er the braes,
I'll o'er the braes wi' Willie,
From morn to eve I'll ſing the praiſe
of buxom bonny Willie
Willy, Willy, Willy
From morn to eve I'll ſing the praiſe
of buxom bonny Willy.
