Page:Land of the thistle (2).pdf/4



I Derry Down Dale when I wanted a mate, I went with my daddy a courting to Kate, With my nosegay so fine and my holiday clothes My hands in my pockets, a courting I goes; The weather was cold and my bosom was hot, My heart in a gallop, my mare in a trot; Now I was so bashful and loving withal, My tongue stuck to my mouth and I said, no- thing at all. But fol de rol.

When I got to the door I look’d lumpish and glum, The knocker I held ’twixt my finger and thumb, Tap went the rapper, and Kate shew’d her chin, She chuckl’d and duckl’d I bow’d and went in. Now I was bashful as bashful could be, And Kitty poor soul was as bashful as me; So I bow’d, and she grinn’d and I let my hat fall, Then I smil’d scratch’d my head, and said no- thing at all. But fol de rol.

If bashful was I no less bashful the maid, She simper’d, and toy’d with her apron string play’d Till the old folks impatient to have the thing done,