[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]
A very auld Ballat.
–
ROB’s Jock came to woo our Jenny,
On ae feast-day when we were fou;
She brankit fast and made her bonny,
And said, Jock, come ye here to woo?
She burnist her baith breast and brou,
And made her cleer as ony clock;
Then spak her dame, and said, I trou
Ye come till woo our Jenny, Jock.
–
Jock said, forsuith, I yern fu’ fain,
To luk my head, and sit down by you:
Then spak her minny, and said again,
My bairn has tocher enough to gie you.
Tehie! qo Jenny, kick, kick, I see you:
Minny, you man maks but a mock.
Deil hae the liars – fu leis me o’ you,
I come to woo your Jenny, qo Jock.
–
My bairn has tocher of her awin;
A guse, a gryce, a cock and hen,
A stirk, a staig, and acre sawin,
Bakbread and a bannock-stane;
A pig, a pot, and a kirn there-ben,
A kame but and a kaming-stock;
With coags and luggies nine or ten:
Come ye to woo our Jenny, Jock?
–
A wecht, a peet-creel and a cradle,
A pair of clips, a graip, a flail,
An ark, an ambry, and a ladle,
A milsie, and sowen-pale,
A rousty whittle to sheer the kail,
And a timber-mell the bear to knock,
Twa shelfs made of an auld fir-dale:
Come ye to woo our Jenny, Jock?
–
A furm, a furlet, and a peck,
A rock, a reel, and a wheel-band,
A tub, a barrow, and a seck,
A spurtil-braid, and an elwand.
Then Jock took Jenny be the hand,
And cry’d, a feast! and flew a cock,
And made a brydal upo’ land.
Now I have got your Jenny, qo Jock.
–
Now dame, I have your doughter marri’d,
And tho’ ye mak it ne’er sae tough,
I let you wit she’s nae miscarried,
Its well kend I have gear enough:
Ane auld gawd gloyd fell owre a heugh,
A spade, a speet, a spur, a sock;
Withouten owsen I have a pleugh:
May that no ser your Jenny, qo Jock?
–
A treen truncher, a ram-horn spoon,
Twa buits of barkit blasint leather,
A’ graith that ganes to coble shoon,
And a thrawcruik to twyne a teather,
Twa croks that moup amang the heather,
A pair of branks, and a fetter lock,
A teugh purse made of a swine’s blather,
To had your tocher, Jenny, qo Jock.
–
Good elding for our winter fire,
A cod of caff wad fill a cradle,
A rake of iron to clat the bire,
A deuk about the dubs to padle,
The pannel of an auld led-sadle,
And Rob my eem hecht me a stock,
Twa lusty lips to lick a ladle.
May thir no gane your Jenny, qo Jock?
–
A pair of hames and brechom fine,
And without bitts a bridle-renzie,
A sark made of the linkome twine,
А gay green cloke that will not stenzie;
Mair yet in store – I needna senzie,
Five hundred flaes, a fendy flock;
And are not thae a wakrife menzie,
To gae to bed with Jenny and Jock?
–
Tak thir for my part of the feast,
It is well knawin I am weel bodin:
Ye need not say my part is least,
Wer they as meikle as they’r lodin.
The wife speerd gin the kail was sodin,
When we have done, tak hame the brok;
The rost was teugh as raploch hodin,
With which they feasted Jenny and Jock.
– Old Songs.
