Page:Tale of three bonnets (NLS104185475).pdf/7

7 Canto I. THREE BONNETS.

O let me lie within your breaſt: And at your dainty table feaſt; Well do I like your gowd to finger, And fit to hear your - Singer; While on this ſun ſide o' the brae, Belongs to you, my limbs I'll lay. Rofie. I own, ſweet ſir, ye woo me frankly, But a' your courtſhip ſars ſae rankly Of ſelfiſh intereſt, that I'm fleed, My perſon leaſt employs your head. Joukum. What a diſtinction's this you're making When your poor lover's heart is breaking : With little logic I can ſhew, That every thing you have is you: Beſides the beauties of your perſon, Theſe beds of flowers you ſet your a- on, Your claiths, your lands, and lying pelf, Are every ane your very felf, And add freſh luſtre to thoſe graces, With which adorn'd your ſaul and face is, Roſie. Ye ſeem to have a loving flame For me, and hate your native hame; That gars me ergh to truſt you meikle, For fear ye ſhou'd prove fauſe and fickle. Joukum. In troth my rugged billy Briſtle, About his gentry makes ſic ſiftle, That, if a body contradict him, He's ready with a durk to ſtick him; That wearies me of hame, I vow, And fain would live and die with you. Bard. Obſerving Jouk a wee rate tipſy, Smirking reply'd the pauky gipſy. Rofie.