Page:Elegy on the year eighty-eight.pdf/11

( 11 ) "Syne for daffin' wi' the maidens,

"Wha cou'd brag wi' Colin Clout?

"Now my dancing days are over,

"Nought am I but skin an' bane;

"Late an' ear, a luckless lover,

"I can only sigh an' grane!

"A' the night I toss an' tum'le;

"Never can I close an ee;

"A' the day I grane an' grum'le—

"Jenny, this is a' for thee.

"Ye'll ha'e nane but farmer Patie,

"'Cause the fallow's rich, I trow;

"Aiblins, tho' he shou'd na cheat ye,

"Jenny ye'll ha'e cause to rue.

"Tho' the coof wad fain be dashin',

"Wi' his bannet set a-jee,

"Cocket up in Highland fashin-

"Was he e'er sae tight as me?

"Auld, an' glee'd, an' crooket backet—

"Siller, bought at sic a price,

"Jenny, gin ye loot to tak it,

"Fouk will say ye're nae o'er nice!

"Jenny, Jenny, scornfu' hizzy!

"Will ye be poor Colin's death?—