Page:Vocal miscellany.pdf/42



Cried, here’s my beast, lad, baud the grup,
 * Or tie him to a tree.

What’s gowd to me. I’ve walth o’ lan’— Bestow on ane o’ worth your han’. He thought to pay what he was awn
 * Wi’ Jenny’s bawbee.

A lawyer neist, wi’ bleth’rin gab, Wi’ speeches wove like ony wab; O ilk ane’s corn he took a dab,
 * And a’ for a fee:

Accounts he ow’d through a’ the town, And tradesmen’s tongues nae mair could drown; But now he thought to clout his gown
 * Wi’ Jenny’s bawbee.

Quite spruce, just frae the washin’ tubs, A fool cam’ neist, but life has rubs; Foul were the roads, and fu’ the dubs,
 * And sair besmear’d was he:

He danc’d up, squintin’ through a glass, And grinn’d, I’faith, a bonny lass, He thought to win, wi’ front o’ brass,
 * Jenny’s bawbee.

She bade the laird gae kaim his wig, The sodger not to strut sae big, The lawyer not to be a prig;
 * The fool he cried, "Tee-hee!