Page:Song, on the grand illumination in Glasgow.pdf/5

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my passion no more tender;
I’ll leave the Bush aboon Traquire,
to lonely woods I’ll wander.

 

The PREVAILING FASHIONS.

Good people all I pray draw near,
in country and in town Sir,
The pride is got to such a pitch,
the world’s turn’d upside down Sir:
They are contriving every day,
their pretty shapes to spoil Sir.
Since short waisted gowns they all do wear,
their hump-backs for to hide Sir.
Chor. So Ladies of the fashion now,
adhere unto my censures,
I have short waisted gowns to sell,
and very pretty spencers.

The servant girls they imitate,
the pride in every piece Sir,
And if they wear a flow'red gown,
they’ll have it made short waist Sir,
They’d have it rumped all behind,
it hangs just like a wallet
With a scull-cap on their head,
just like a Scotchmans bonnnet

It was in London you shall hear,
upon a certain day Sir,
A lady she was dressed up,
and going to the play Sir
The blust’ring winds did blow so hard,
blew off her cap and wig Sir,
With muff and tippet round her neck,
she look’d like a hairy pig.