[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]
To its own Tune.
–
IN January last,
On munanday at morn,
As through the fields I past,
To view the winter corn,
I looked me behind,
And saw come o’er the know,
Ane glancing in her apron,
With a bony brent brow.
–
I said, good morrow, fair maid;
And she right courteously
Return’d a beck, and kindly said,
Good day sweet sir, to you.
I spear’d, my dear, how far awa
Do ye intend to gae.
Quoth she, I mean a mile or twa,
Out o’er yon broomy brae.
–
HE.
Fair maid, I’m thankfu’ to my fate,
To have sic company;
For I am ganging straight that gate,
Where ye intend to be.
When we had gane a mile or twain,
I said, to her my dow,
May we not lean us on this plain,
And kiss your bony mou.
–
SHE.
Kind Sir, ye are a wi mistane;
For I am nane of these,
I hope ye some mair breeding ken,
Than to ruffle woman’s claise:
For may be I have chosen ane,
And plighted him my vow,
Wha may do wi me what he likes,
And kiss my bony mou.
–
ΗΕ.
Na, if ye are contracted,
I hae nae mair to say:
Rather than be rejected,
I will gie o’er the play;
And chuse anither will respect
My love, and on me rew;
And let me clasp her round the neck,
And kiss her bony mou.
–
SHE.
O sir, ye are proud-hearted,
And laith to be said nay,
Else wad ne’er a started
For ought that I did say:
For women in their modesty
At first they winna bow;
But if we like your company,
We’ll prove as kind as you.
– Old Songs.
