Page:Old maid and widow, or, The widow the best wife.pdf/21

Rh In a’ their quarrels for the breeks,

The smile was dimplin’ in her cheeks;

Her gentle voice, an’ melting e’e,

Were sure to gar the lad agree;

Thus, while she ca’d him lord an’ master,

A kiss knit a’ his chains the faster!

About the haly days o’ Yule,

Ae night, her Johnny play’d the fool;

Into the change-house, o’er a bicker,

The lad took in his broe fu’ sicker;

He gaed to sell the humil cow,

An’ i’ the bargain soon gat fou’;

Play’d at the cartes, till cocks were crawin’,

Syne stackered hame, about the dawin’;

The blood was driblin’ o’er his chin,

Twa inch o’ bark peeled aff his shin;

His een, wi’ glaur, an’ gutters hod,

His bonnet, tint upo’ the road.

Such is the won’drous pith o’ maut;

That mornin’, a’ thing was a fau’t;

Rampagin’, thro’ the house he jumpit,

An’ chairs an’ stools on ither thumpit:

She clappit him, wi’ couthy smile,

An’ fleeched him up wi’ mony a wile;

Dight o’er his face-spread down the blanket

An’ him into her oxter clankit;