Page:New song in praise of Burns.pdf/5

5 That she would no husband get, And be forc’d to die a maid.

O mother I’ll have a man, If there be one to be had; For there lives Andrew Carr, A bonny backsome lad. He says he likes me well, And what can I say mair? O mother, if you think fit The priest will mak us a pair.

Begone, you muckle gowk, And a bonny pair you’ll be, For how do you think he can Maintain himself and thee? There’s naething between you twa. But the claes upon your back; And when you married are, There’s many a thing you lack.

O mother you are cross, As cross as you can be, For there lives Peggy Patch, She’s twa years younger than me. They had nae wealth of gear; We hae as muckle as them, And when they married were You never did them blame.

O how could I them blame,