Page:Five excellent songs (1).pdf/8

8 He drew his arms frae ’bout my neck,

As if he’d touch’d an adder!

“Weel, Bet!” says he, what brings you here

My troth, but you're a trimmer!

Gae, rise, an’ mend the kitchen fire,

You lewd lascivious limmer!”

“ Na, na, gudeman! do that yoursel’—

I’ll rise when I am ready;

I was your servant yesterday,

But now I am your lady!”

But wha could paint his waspish face,

As I the facts were telling!

His miser-moaus, his sil’er-shrieks,

Were like a cuddy’s yelling!

Wi’ rage, he fell upon the floor,

And gi’ed a roar like thun’er;

But matrimony’s chains are strong—

There’s few they’ll not keep un’er.

Now since his single woes are past,

An’ he has got a baby,

His looks hae quite anither cast,

His dress is never shabby.

An’ aye he blesses Bet his wife,

The night she nail’d him till her,

An’ wadna be a Batch again

For a' his lan’ an’ sil’er.