Plowman's ditty/Smirky Nan

SMIRKY NAN.

Tune——My Nanny O.

Ah ! woes me ! poor Willie cried,
see how I'm wasted to a span!
My heart is lost, when first I spy'd
the charming lovely milk-maid Nan.

I'm grown so weak, a gentle breeze;
of the dusky winnowing fan.
Would blow me o'er yon beechy trees,
and all for thee my smirky Nan.

The Ale-wife misses me of late,
I used to take a hearty cann;
Rut now I neither drink nor eat,
unless ’tis brew’d and bak'd by Nan.

The baker bakes the best of bread,
the flour he takes and leaves the bran;
The bran is every other maid,
compar'd with thee, my smirky Nan.

But Dick o' the green, that nesty lown,
last Sunday to my mistress ran
He snatch’d a kiss, I knock’d him down,
which hugely pleas'd my smirky Nan.

But hark! the roaring rodger comes,
and rattles tantara tarran;
She leaves her cows for noisy drums,
woes me I’ve lost my smirky Nan.

FINIS.