( 7 )
Whan she began to crack her creed*[1],
I've seen our chafts maist like to screed;
In short at times a silly thread
Might e'en ha'e tied us;
An' wow how crouse she cock'd her head,
Whan set beside us!
The mair the pith o'barley shone,
The mair was heard Mirth's social tone,
An' sang, an' joke, an' toast gaed roun',
Wi' glee imprentit;
While bizzy Time still jogget on,
Unmark'd, untentit,
Till Night, her sable mantle dreepin',
Braught Luna o'er St Anthon's peepin',
An' dowie ghaists frae kirk-yards creepin',
Began to wauner,
Whan we, frae Lizzie's kindly keepin',
Wad hamewards dauner.
Och! wae's my heart! now whan she's gane,
How sad an' alter'd is the strain!
To Puddin' Feasts an' Rants fu' fain
Nae maır we pap in;
Our wames e’en to our riggin' bane
Like skate fish clappin'!
- ↑ •Our hostess was noted for her ready wit, and many satirical sayings; so much so, that few cared to engage with her, or they were sure of becoming the butt of the whole company.
