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To ſee gin ony young ſpark,
will light and venture but in,
But never a ane comes in,
though mony a ane gaes by,
Syne far ben the houſe I rin:
and a weary wight am I.
When I was at my firſt pray’rs,
I pray'd but anes i' the year,
I wiſh'd for a handſome young lad,
and a lad wi' muckle gear.
When I was at my neiſt pray'rs,
I pray'd but now and than,
I faſh'd na my head about gear,
if I gat a handſome young man.
Now when I was at my laſt pray’rs,
I pray'd on baith night and day,
And, O! if a beggar wad come,
with that ſame beggar I'd gae.
And O! and what'll come o' me!
and O! and what'll I do?
That ſic a braw laſſie as I
ſhou'd die for a woer I trow.
Tune—AULD LANG SYNE.
WHen flow’ry meadows deck the year,
and ſporting lambkins play,
When ſpangl'd fields renew'd appear,
and muſic wak'd the day;
