Page:Jenny's bawbee.pdf/3

 Cry'd, ' here's my beast, lad had the grup,

"Or tiw him to a tree:

'What’s goud to me, I’ve wealthh o’ lan’

‘ Bestow on ane o' worth your han’

He thought to pay what he was awn,

Wi Jenny’s Bawbee.

A Lawyer neist wi’ blatherin gab,

Wi’ speeches wove like ony web;

In ilk anes corn he took a dab,

And a’ for a fee;

Accounts he owed through a’ the town,

And tradesmen’s tongues nae mair could drown;

But now he thought to clout his gown,

Wi’ Jenny’s Bawbee.

Quite spruce, just frae the washing tubs,

A fool came neist, but life has rubs,

Foul were the roads, and fu' the dubs,

And fair besmear’d was he;

He danc’d up squinting thro’ a glass,

And grinn’d, ‘ I faith a bonny lass;"

He thought to win wi’ front o’ brass.

Jenny’s Bawbee.