Page:Sailor's courtship (2).pdf/5

5 Tis no 'cause her cheeks are like roses,

Nor yet for her dark rollin' e'e;

'Tis no for her sweet comely features,

These charms are naething to me,

The storms o' life may soon blast them,

Or sickness make them fade away;

But virtue, when fix'd in the bosom,

Will flourish and never decay.

Nae langer I'll spend a' my siller,

Nae langer I'll now lie my lane;

Nae langer I'll hunt after hizzies,

I'll soon ha'e a wife o' my ain

For mony wild foot I ha'e wander'd,

And mony lang night spent in vain,

Wi' drinkin' an' dancin', and courtin',

But I'll soon ha'e a wife o' my ain.

Her mither's ay flytin' and roarin',

I rede you take tent o' that chiel;

He'll no be that canny to live wi',

He'll ne'er be like douse Geordy Steel

He's courted wi' o'er mony lasses,

To slight them he thinks it gude fun,

He'll mak' but a sober ha'f-marrow,

Ye'll best rue before ye be bosnd.