MY Patie is a lover gay,
His mind is never muddy,
His breath is sweeter than new hay,
His face is fair and ruddy.
His shape is handsom, middle size;
He’s stately in his wawking;
The shining of his een surprise;
‘Tis heaven to hear him tawking.
Last night I met him on a bawk,
Where yellow corn was growing,
There mony a kindly word he spake,
That set my heart a glowing.
He kiss’d, and vow’d he wad be mine,
And loo’d me best of ony;
That gars me like to sing sinsyne,
O Corn riggs are bony.
Let maidens of a silly mind
Refuse what maist they’re wanting,
Since we for yielding are design’d,
We chastly should be granting;
Then I’ll comply and mary Pate,
And syne my cockernony
He’s free to touzle air or late,
Where corn riggs are bony.