Page:Duke of Gordon's daughters (2).pdf/7

 If she be true, sure of his heart,

she never need bewail her

For though a thousand leagues apart,

still constant is her sailor.

Tho' she be false. still he is kind,

and comes with smiles to hail her;

He trusting as he trusts the wind,

stilll faithless to her sailor.

A butcher can procure her prog;

three threads to drink a taylor,

What's that to biscuit and to grog,

procur'd her by her sailor.

She would such a mate refuse,

the devil sure must ail her.

Search round and if you're wise,

to wed an honest sailor, 



When I was a wee thing,

and just like an elf

All the meat that e'er I gat,

I lailaid [sic] upon a shelf.

The rottens and the mice

they fell into a strife.

They wadna let my meat alane,

Till I gat a wife,