Page:Three excellent new sons (sic).pdf/7

 An’ buckle yoursel’ to a man,

For kissing it’s now you are fit,

What tho’ you’ve silks for to dress you,

An’ plenty o’ baith roast an’ raw,

Yet you want a bit man for to kiss you,

An’ keep your cauld back frae the wa,

We’ll kiss, an’ cuddle, an’ a’,

Cuddle, an’ kiss, an' a’,

An ance we were buckl’d the gither

Our joys they sha’ nae be sma’l.

To hear how that ithers get marri’d,

An’ ye sit an’ rive at your tow,

I’m sure it’s of life you are weari’d,

Wish wheel an’ it a’ in a low!

The pain ye endure thro’ the night,

It makes you to tumble an’ gaunt,

But young Andrew is blyth an’ able,

An’ weel can supply your bit want,

We’ll kiss, &c;

At e’en when ye come wi’ your stocking,

You thought I was wond’rous slack,

Tho’ aften ay jeering an’ jocking,

An’ whiles your bit mou’ I did smack

As on the green grass we die tumble,

O how thy bit hears it did pant,