Page:Hawking wench, or, Gowf my logie.pdf/3



O gin ye be so trig lassie,
 * O gin ye be so trig.

The whalebone keeps their belly back,
 * and yet it may turn big.

With stamingers into their breasts,
 * their bubies they do crush man;

Which makes them jimp about the middle
 * and big where ye wad wish man.

O soon ye learn the trade lassie,
 * O soon ye learn the trade,

About fifteen you are so keen,
 * as venture to the bed.

With ribbons rare and other ware,
 * they're primped up sae nice man.

They loftily do cock their heads,
 * ev’n as their docks got spice man.

O well does thou incline, lassie,
 * O well does thou incline.

To dance the blanket-hornpipe,
 * as minnie did langsyne.

Our Ladies now we do not know,
 * tho' they busk ne’er so bra' man.

Our servant-maids does wear the fame,
 * we think they're Ladies a’ man:

O what needs a' this pride lassie,
 * O what needs a' this pride.

To wear your best clothes every day,
 * and what when you’re a bride?

They think their maidenheads will spoil,
 * before young men come near man;