Page:Burns' celebrated songs.pdf/11

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A Norlan’ laird neist trotted up,

Wi’ bassen'd nag, and filler whup,

Cry’d "Here’s my beast, lad haud the grup,

“ Or tie him to a tree ;

“ What’s goud to me ? I’ve wealth o' lan’,

“ Bestow on ane o’ worth your han’,

He thought to pay what he was awn,

Wi’ Jenny’s Bawbee.

A Lawyer neist wi’ blatherin’ gab,

Wi’ speeches wove like ony web;

In ilk anes corn he took a dab,

And a’ for a fee;

Accounts he owed thro’ a the town,

And tradesmens tongues nae mair could drown ;

But now he thought to clout his gown,

Wi’ Jenny’s Bawbee.

Quite spruce, just frae the washing tubs,

A fool came neist, but life has rubs,

Foul were the roads, and fu the dubs,

And fair besmear’d was he ;

He danc’d up, squinting thro’ a glass,

And grinn’d, “ I’ faith, a bonny lass,’’

He thought to win wi’ front o’ brass,

Jenny’s Bawbee.

She bade the laird gae kaim his wig,

The soldier not to strut sae big,

The lawyer not to be a prig,

The fool he cry’d “te hee,

‘ I ken’d that I could never fail,’

But, she prinn’d the dishclout to his tail,

And cool’d him wi’ a water-pail,

And kept her Bawbee.

Then Johnny cam’, a lad o’ sense,

Altho’ he hadna mony pence,

He took young Jenny to the spence,

Wi’ her to crack a wee :