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DAFT WATTY’S RAMBLE TO CARLISLE.
If you ax me where I come frae, I say the fell syde.
Where fadder and mudder, and honest fwok beyde,
And my sweetheart, O bless her! she thought nyen like me,
For when she shuik’ hands, the tears gush’d frae her e’e,
Says I “I mun e’en get a spot if I can,
But whatever betide me, I’ll think o’ thee. Nan!”
Nan was a perfect beauty, wi’ twee cheeks like codlin blossoms; the verra sect on her made my mouth a’ water, “Fares-te-weel, Watty!” says she; “tou’s a wag amang lasses, and I’ll see thee nae mair!”—Nay, dunnet growl, Nan, says I—
“For, mappen, er lang, I’se be maister mysel’
Sae we buss’d, and I tuik a last luik at the fell;
On I whussl’d and wander’d: my bundle I flung
O’er my shoulder, when Cowley he after me sprung,
And howl’d, silly fellow! and fawn’d at my fit,
As if to say, Watty, we munnet part yet!
At Carel I stuid wi’ a strae i’ my mouth,
And they tuik me, nae doubt, for a promising youth;—
The weyves com round me in clusters—“What weage due te ax, canny lad?” says yen. “Wey,
