Divider from 'The Black Bird', an undated Scottish chapbook with no printing information
The FOUR MISSES
To think on one's follies, sometimes, is but right,And reflection is good, tho' there's nothing got by't:How many ways mortals pursue after bliss,But still the genteelest is keeping a Miss;The prudent are constant to one, and no more;But I, like a blockhead, must dabble with four:I'll tell you their names, tho' you'll call me a rake,Miss-fortune, Miss-conduct, Miss-chance, & Miss-take.
Four jilts so destructive, four brimstones so bad,By Jove! were sufficient to drive a man mad:Though jealousy oft makes the fair disagreeYet these all united in kindness to me;In life's wanton paths they seduc'd me to stray,And seem'd to spread flow'rs of delight in the way.So Simple was I, I'd have dy'd for the sake,Of Miss-fortune, Miss-conduct, Miss-chance, and Miss-take.
At length fair Discretion, with Reason combin'd,Thus whisper'd advice, and it dwelt on my mind,"You've surely not got 'em, For better for worse;"Get at once into bus'ness, you'll get a devorce.I thought 'twas my duty to part with 'em too;Because they so long had detain'd me from you:And now, do but smile, and I'll ever forsake,Miss-fortune, Miss-conduct, Miss-chance, & Miss-take.
