7
My master was an auld Batch,
Baith crabbed and uncivil:
Than kiss a lass, (except when fou’)
He'd sooner kiss the d———l.
An’ he had gowd and sil’er baith,
As meikle’s fill a barrel;
A gaudy house, an’ grand estate,
Might serve a duke or earl.
But woman’s ways he coudua thole—
The cause o’ a disasters;
He’d sneer, an’ jeer, an’ curse the sex,
And ca’ them downright wasters.
But then, again, when he was fu’,
His love was overbearing;
He’d kiss an’ slake about my mou’,
Nae wife nor sil’er fearing.
As I was growing auld mysel’,
And lovers growing scanty,
I thought upon my master’s house,
His gear an’ sil’er plenty.
So I got witnesses ae night,
When he was reeling rarely,
To hear his tender promises,
An’ see us bedded fairly.
He sought me to his chamber ha’,
And troth, I didna swither;
But gave a sweet complying smile,
An’ aff to bed thegither.
But oh! that morn when he awoke!
