Page:Tamie Lamie's cure for a drunken wife.pdf/6

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To it's own Proper Tune.

F modeſt maids in ſimple weeds,

I've nothing for to ſay man,

But againſt the game of hawking wench,

I'll tell you and you'll ſtay man.

And ye buſk ſae bra' laſſie,

and ye buſk ſae bra',

The lads will crack your maidenhead,

and that's againſt the law.

I view them aft come to the church,

with meal upon their hair man;

Whom I have ſeen in former times,

with back and buttocks bare man.

O do not look ſo high laſſie,

O do not look ſo high,

You'll mind your mither was but poor

tho' now you drink your tea.

Thoſe dirty maids come to the church,

holding their mouths ſo mim man,

Like riddle rims their tails go round,

fine coats ſtript in the loom man.

O vow but ye be vogie laſſie,

O vow but ye be vogie,

You're proud to wear that whore like coat,

its name is gowf my logie.