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A thousand beauties of deceit
before had scarce alarm'd me,
'Till this dear artless struck my heart,
and but designing charm'd me.
Hurry'd by love close to my breast
I grasp'd this fund of blisses:
Wha smil'd, and said, Without a priest,
sir, hope for nought but kisses.
I had nae heart to do her harm,
and yet I cou'dna want her,
What she demanded, ilka charm
of her's pled, I should grant her.
Since Heaven had dealt to me a rowth,
straight to the kirk I led her,
There plighted her my faith and trowth,
and a young lady made her.
A GOOD HINT.
A Fox may steal your hens, Sir,
A whore your health and pence, Sir,
Your daughter rob your chest, Sir,
Your wife may steal your rest, Sir,
A thief your goods and plate.
But this is all but picking,
With rest, pence, chest, and chicken:
It ever was decreed, Sir,
If lawyers's hand is seed, Sir,
He steels your whole estate
GLASGOW,
Printed by J. & M. Robertson, Saltmarket, 1802.
