Then may not I, as well as he,
To cheat your Argus blinker,
And win your love like mighty Jove,
Thus hide me in a tinker?
Sir, ye appear a cunning man;
But this fine plot you'll fail in;
For there is neither pot nor pan,
Of mine, you'll drive a nail in.
Then bind your budget on your back,
And nails up in your apron;
For I've a tinker under tack,
That's used to clout my ca'dron.
The Lass's Wardrobe.
[Given in Chambers's Journal, No. 175, where it is said to have been written by an old unmarried lady, as a kind of burlesque of her own habits and history. It is sung to an air resembling that of "The Laird of Cockpen."]
A lass lived down by yon burn-braes,
And she was weel provided wi' claes;
She had three mutches a' but twa,
And nae bonnie lad wad tak' her awa'.
Take her awa', tak' her awa',
Nae bonnie lad wad tak' her awa';
She had three mutches, a' but twa,
And nae bonnie lad wad tak her awa'.
She had a gown, it was just at the making,
It wanted the forebreadth, it wanted the backing;
It wanted the sleeves, the lining and a',
And nae bonnie lad wad tak' her awa'.
Tak' her awa', &c.
She had twa stockings, they were at the knitting,
They wanted the legs, they wanted the fitting;
They wanted the heids, the heels, and a',
And nae bonnie lad wad tak' her awa'.
Tak' her awa', &c.
She had a shawl, it was just like a riddle,
It wadna been the waur o' the threid and the needle;
For the middle was holed, and the border awa',
And nae bonnie lad wad tak' her awa'.
Tak' her awa', &c.
She had a pouch to had her siller,
Wi' it she thocht to catch the miller;
But she tint the pouch, the siller, and a',
And nae bonnie lad wad tak' her awa'.
Tak' her awa', &c.
She had a kist to haud her claes,
It might ha'e ser'd her a' her days;
But, like a gowk, she gied it awa',
And nae bonnie lad wad tak' her awa'.
Tak' her awa', &c.
Sae now she lives in a wee bit garret,
Without ae friend but a cat and a parrot;
For her father is dead, and her mither, and a',
And nae bonnie lad has ta'en her awa'.
Ta'en her awa', &c.
And what can she do but live her lane,
Sin' a' her hopes o' marriage are gane;
For she's auld, she's bald, she's wrinkled, and a',
And nae bonnie lad will tak' her awa'.
Tak' her awa', &c.
Now listen, fair damsels, to my lays,
Ye wha are vain about your claes;
For if ye're no guid as weel as braw,
O nae bonnie lad will tak' ye awa'.
Tak' ye awa', tak' ye awa',
Nae bonnie lad will tak' ye awa',
If ye're no guid as well as braw,
O nae bonnie lad will tak' ye awa'.
Lass, gin ye wad lo'e.
[From Chambers's Journal, No. 196, where it appears with the initials "A. L."]
"Lass, gin ye wad lo'e me,
Lass, gin ye wad lo'e me,
Ye'se be ladye o' my ha',
Lass, gin ye wad lo'e me.
A cantie but, a cozie ben,
Weel plenish'd, ye may trow me,
A brisk, a blythe, a kind gudeman—
Lass, gin ye wad lo'e me!"
"Walth there's little doubt ye ha'e,
An' bidin' bein an' easy;
But brisk an' blythe ye canna be,
