[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]
To the Tune of, The Gallant Shoe-maker.
–
YOung Philander woo’d me lang,
But I was peevish, and forbad him,
I wadna tent his loving sang,
But now I wish, I wish I had him:
Ilk morning when I view my glass,
Then I perceive my beauty going;
And when the wrinkles seize the face,
Then we may bid adieu to wooing.
–
My beauty, anes so much admir’d,
I find it fading fast, and flying;
My cheeks, which coral like appear’d,
Grow pale, the broken blood decaying:
Ah! we may see our selves to be
Like summer fruit that is unshaken,
When ripe, they soon fall down and die,
And by corruption quickly taken.
–
Use then your time, ye virgins fair,
Employ your day before ‘tis evil;
Fifteen is a season rare,
But five and twenty is the devil.
Just when ripe, consent unto’t,
Hug nae mair your lanely pillow;
Women are like other fruit,
They lose their relish when too mellow.
–
If opportunity be lost,
You’ll find it hard to be regained;
Which now I may tell to my cost,
Tho’ but my sell nane can be blamed:
If then your fortune you respect,
Take the occasion when it offers;
Nor a true lover’s suit neglect,
Lest ye be scoff’d for being scoffers.
–
I, by his fond expressions, thought
That in his love he’d ne’er prove changing;
But now, alas! ‘tis turn’d to nought,
And, past my hope, he’s gane a ranging.
Dear maidens, then take my advice,
And let na coyness prove your ruin;
For if ye be o’er foolish nice,
Your suiters will give over wooing.
–
Then maidens auld you nam’d will be,
And in that fretfu’ rank be number’d,
As lang as life; and when ye die,
With leading apes be ever cumber’d:
A punishment, and hated brand,
With which nane of us are contented;
Then be not wise behind the hand,
That the mistake may be prevented.
