Page:Merry msue (sic).pdf/24

24 As lang's there hearing in Loch I'll ne'er want kitchen when I dine, And henceforth bid, adieu to swine; O' nae sic gear the price I'll speer Not stan then and taunting jeer, That I frae neebours dree man.

SPOKEN-Faith, I'm who fit to stan't and the callans is the warst; odd, we see them, as a body gangs alang the street jinking in a close, and keeking out and crying, bey Tam Glev Tam Gibb! Tamd sharts yet sow? It's ill to hear the tasting jour, That I free neebours droe, man

THE RANTING DOG THE DADDIE O'T.

O wha my baby clouts will boy? Wha will tent when I cry, Wha will be the there I lie, The ranting dog the daddle o't.

Wha will own he did the fair, Wha will buy me groaning mair Who will tell me bow at The ranting dog the daddie o't

When I meant the creepie whair, Who will sit besitle me there, Gie me Rob, I work my mair The ranting, dug the daddie o't

Wha will crack to me my fane, Wha will make me pidgin turn, Wha will kiss me o'er again, The ranting dog the daddie o't