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man his five shillings. Five shillings! quo' she, what pat that in your head? I dinna owe a farthing in the town; and I paid the man the last gill mysel', and didna leave a single babee. Says I, Come now Jenny, nane o' your nonsense,—rise and pay the man his five shillings. Ye ken ye have got the prize. Hae I got the prize?—Then fill in anither gill, and a bottle o' cap, and we'll sing
Hey the bonny, &c.
Doctor Monro.
'Dear Doctor, be clever, and fling off your beaver,Come, bleed me, and blister me, do not be slow;I'm sick, I'm exhausted, my schemes they are blastedAnd all driven heels-o'er-head, Doctor Monro.''Be patient, dear fellow, you foster your fever;Pray what's the misfortune that bothers you so?''O, doctor! I'm ruin'd! I'm ruin'd for ever!My lass has forsaken me, Doctor Monro.
'I meant to have married, and tasted the pleasures,The sweets, the enjoyments, from wedlock that flow;But she's ta'en another, and broken my measures.And fairly confounded me, Doctor Monro.''I'll bleed and I'll blister you, over and over!I'll master your malady ere that I go;But rise up your head from below the bed-cover,And give some attention to Doctor Monro.
'If Chirsty had wed you, she would have misled you,And laugh'd at your love with some handsome young beau:
