Page:Bailie Nicol Jarvie's journey to Aberfoil.pdf/3

 Feint a bodle cared she for a magistrate's life,

My consciences slie was just gaun to drown me.

If again in her clutches I ever should pop,

Poor Matty may live to deplore me;

But were I at Glasgow, I'd stick by my shop,

Like my father, the deacon, before me.

Now to think o them hanging a bailie so high,

To be picked at by corbies and burdies;

Had I them at Glasgow, my conscience! I'd try

How their craigs stood the weight o' their hurdies.

But stop, Nicol, stop, man na, that maunna be

For if some ane to hame wad restore ye,

In the Saut-Market safe, ye'd forget and forgie,

Like your father, the deacon, before ye.

In favour o' Matty a word let me say,

Of Lunnun quean's she's worth a dozen;

Through the foul paths o' darkness she leads me the way,

Though of Limmerfield she's the Laird's cousin.

To match wi' my Matry I'm no that aboon,

And young Nicol I shall adore him,

If he to his friends but as gratefu' do prove

As his father, the bailie, before him.