6
While I'm sailing over live herrings and sprats,
Mr Deputy Providence, that'll ne'er do,
So to him and old Nick I kick babies and you,
With my Jill, sing Jack, &c.
THE BRAW WOOER.
Ae day a braw wooer cam down the lang glen,
And sair wi' his love he did deave me-
I said there was naething I hated like men,
The deuce tak the lad to believe me, believe me.
The deuce tak the lad to believe me.
He spak o' the darts o' my bonny black een,
And vow'd for my love he was dying;
I said he might die when he liked, for Jean,
The Lord forgie me for lying, for lying,
The Lord forgie me for lying.
A weel-stocked maiden, himsel for the laird,
And marriage aff-hand was his proffer;
I never loot on that I ken'd it or car'd,
But thought I might get a waur offer, waur offer,
But thought I might get a waur offer.
But what do ye think, in a fortnight or less,
The deil tak his taste to gae near her!
