(6)
'Tis proof a-ſhot to birth or money,
But yields to what is ſweet and bonny,
Receive it then with a kiſs and a ſmily,
There’s my thumb it will ne'er beguile thee.
How tempting ſweet theſe lips of thine are?
Thy boſom white, and legs ſae fine are,
That when in pools, I ſee thee clean 'em;
They carry awa’ my heart between ’em.
I wiſh, and I wiſh when it gaes duntin,
O gin I had thee on a mountain,
Though kith and kin and a’ ſhould revile thee,
There’s my thumb I’ll ne’er beguile thee.
Alane through flow’ry hows I dander,
Tearing my flocks left they ſhould wander,
Gin thou'll gae alang, I’ll dawt thee gaylie,
And gi’e thee my thumb I’ll ne’er beguile thee.
O my dear laſſie, it is but daſſin,
To haud thy wooer up ay niff naſſin,
That na, na, na, I bate it moſt vilely,
O ſay, Yes, and I’ll ne’er beguile thee.
OXFORDSHIRE NANCY.
To its own proper Tune.
THO’ I’m ſlim, & am young, & was lively, and fair,
Could ſing a good ſong, and in others kill care,
Yet I’m ſurely bewitch’d, for I can’t drive away,
What makes me ſo reſtleſs by night and by day.
In vain I perplex my poor fancy,
To find out the grief,
But alas! no relief!
Heigh ho! what can be the matter with Nancy?
