Page:Canty carly, or, The raveled bridal of Auchronie.pdf/6

 6 I swear by d-l as well's by saint, I will go mad for Belly Grant, My heart it fails, I'm like to faint, For fear I lie my leen. Young men have little shift or thrift That sticks at wet, or win', or drift, To help a needfu' bride a lift, Wha coudna lie her leen. The Cook now cries, sit down an' dine, I'to gailie ower 'tween eight and nine, Gin ye get meat ye'll little tine, Thoʻ ye lie down your leen. Why mak you sic a reary, Tho' the night be dreary, Come eat and drink fu' cheery, And syne lie down your leen. Fat skinks to gar them lik their lips A liver and lungs like littlans' lips, A haggis 'ween her hands she grips, Well seasoned wi' spiee. Why mak you sic a reary, Altho' the night be dreary, Come eat and drink fu cheery, There's likewise milk and rice. They stap the windows up wi' cloute, The door wi strae, there is na doubts, A eog o'punch to heat their snoube, They'll hae at ony price. They makna now a reary, Altho the night be dreary, But drank about fu cheery, I wat they werena nice. The bride by now was well and warm, Kinmundy's fire had been her charm, I think, says she we'll get no harm,