Page:Whole proceedings of Jockey and Maggy (4).pdf/36

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An Elegy on the Death of Jockey's Mother.

NOW a' body kens my Mither's dead, For weel a wat I bore her head, And in the grave I ſaw her laid, It was e'en right drole. For her to change a warm fire ſide, For a cauld kirk hole.

But every ane tell'ſt just like a fang, That yon's the gate we have to gang, For me to do it, I think nae lang, If I can do better, For I trow my mither thinks it nae ſang, What needs we clatter.

But thanks to death ay for the futer, That did not let her get the futer, For about her gear wad been a ſplutter, And fae had been, For he came ay ſnoaking about her, Late at een.

For our Maggy watch'd and ſaw, My mither's back was at the wa', But what was mair hach ha' hach ha', I winna tell, She to do yon ſtood little aw', Juſt like myſell:

But to get gear was a' her drift, And uſed many a pinging ſhift: About her ſpinning and her thrift, Was a' her care, She's gotten but little o't abune the lift, Wi' her to wear.

FINIS.